Breathing for 19 years
It took me awhile to write this post. Another turning point of my life has bloomed yet words spoken or not fail to escape my mouth. I’m afraid. Afraid that even after another year of knowing things, I still not know enough to make sense of what this year has been all about. I am scared that I have not changed a bit, that I have not made the move to make reality out of this phantasm. I want to place you in the spot on how my 19 th year on earth unfolded. I cannot guarantee that it had been remarkable , for I do not allow myself to feel things that belong to the extremes. But this is not about if I was happy or gloomy, not also about if it was worth remembering or not. It’s about a step to the maturational loss that has finally caught up with me. I woke up with the sound of Taylor Swift’s “” We are never ever getting back together””, playing in the background. I like the old Taylor, country and all, this song is redirecting her to a new genre. Risks what makes life exciting and I wish I could just risk everything for something. I’m old, was the voice I heard as my eyelids slowly entertained the first light of my 19th year. First light, if I snoozed back to sleep would It make a difference? If I snoozed back would It delay my impending age? The first move I took was to look at the mirror across the room. The figure that stared back seemed exactly the same as the day before, on my last day as an 18 year-old. I still had the same depressing hair that I cut short out of a sudden urge to steer away from my safe side. My head touched the same air and my body still occupied the same space. There’s got to be something different, this too shall pass. When I was satisfied that the impending change may come later, I opened the computer to accomplish the task that I thought would make this day universal. I’m a fan girl, I’m not a proud of it but It’s something that I cant help myself to be. People crave what they cant have and it’s a guilty pleasure of mine since I realized what my soul desires. I sent them a message requesting for a greeting. The expectation to the unexpected is so narrowly defined that choosing what to expect or what not to expect just all together had a deteriorating effect. The them I’m referring to is this alternative rock band called FranKo that I’ve been living for, for the past few weeks. My chance of seeing them perform live is almost extinct due to the distance that interferes with my desire to be contained in the same room that they occupy, to inhale the same oxygen and exhale the same carbon dioxide, to see a history being played out, to be in one moment in that life time and many more endless stalker-ish idea. I went to school, with a lurking idea of fun since this held a promise of excitement because we just had to perform an activity instead of a written exam for our finals in P.I. It involved water in bottles. The activity was suppose to tell us whether or not to preserve history. That little by little the past is too rapidly forgotten that we neglect that it’s eminent. I asked myself do I preserve history ? Do I have to? Somebody else can do it right? I don’t have the answers yet, someone told me something about this bonded words , no answer is wrong there are just wrong questions. Then we had a mini play on Humanities, and I am glad that I found the right place for my foot, the backstage. I know a lot of people might think that it’s depressing. That it’s a station for losers who possess fears unknown by many but I breathe it, it’s my sanctuary. Lao Tzu’s theory of action through inaction. I didn’t need to speak, other says it for me and it is delivered beyond, It has penetrated walls while my mouth stayed shut.
In the afternoon I visited a new bookstore. My Utopia has found me and I am ready as hell to dominate it. Books are my secret friends, my hidden family , my delusional companions and we all thrive in a private community. I went there with a mate who is also turning 19 in a week. Our eyes catches the same things and at that time we realized we have this common pursuit for thrill. We might have done what needed to be done. We headed home with laughter’s and secret we vowed never to tell. Does it make me a detached member of a family if I say I don’t really fancy eating out with my folks? Because that is how this day ended, I‘m the youngest and their conversations isolated me. Old people possess the wisdom that the young may never come to understand, but I guess that is the framework of life, we may learn the same things but we understand it differently. And that is why the young and the old don’t always meet. That is why we don’t like something every time. That is why we are unstable. If we were, we are so stuck.
It took me awhile to write this post. Another turning point of my life has bloomed yet words spoken or not fail to escape my mouth. I’m afraid. Afraid that even after another year of knowing things, I still not know enough to make sense of what this year has been all about. I am scared that I have not changed a bit, that I have not made the move to make reality out of this phantasm. I want to place you in the spot on how my 19 th year on earth unfolded. I cannot guarantee that it had been remarkable , for I do not allow myself to feel things that belong to the extremes. But this is not about if I was happy or gloomy, not also about if it was worth remembering or not. It’s about a step to the maturational loss that has finally caught up with me. I woke up with the sound of Taylor Swift’s “” We are never ever getting back together””, playing in the background. I like the old Taylor, country and all, this song is redirecting her to a new genre. Risks what makes life exciting and I wish I could just risk everything for something. I’m old, was the voice I heard as my eyelids slowly entertained the first light of my 19th year. First light, if I snoozed back to sleep would It make a difference? If I snoozed back would It delay my impending age? The first move I took was to look at the mirror across the room. The figure that stared back seemed exactly the same as the day before, on my last day as an 18 year-old. I still had the same depressing hair that I cut short out of a sudden urge to steer away from my safe side. My head touched the same air and my body still occupied the same space. There’s got to be something different, this too shall pass. When I was satisfied that the impending change may come later, I opened the computer to accomplish the task that I thought would make this day universal. I’m a fan girl, I’m not a proud of it but It’s something that I cant help myself to be. People crave what they cant have and it’s a guilty pleasure of mine since I realized what my soul desires. I sent them a message requesting for a greeting. The expectation to the unexpected is so narrowly defined that choosing what to expect or what not to expect just all together had a deteriorating effect. The them I’m referring to is this alternative rock band called FranKo that I’ve been living for, for the past few weeks. My chance of seeing them perform live is almost extinct due to the distance that interferes with my desire to be contained in the same room that they occupy, to inhale the same oxygen and exhale the same carbon dioxide, to see a history being played out, to be in one moment in that life time and many more endless stalker-ish idea. I went to school, with a lurking idea of fun since this held a promise of excitement because we just had to perform an activity instead of a written exam for our finals in P.I. It involved water in bottles. The activity was suppose to tell us whether or not to preserve history. That little by little the past is too rapidly forgotten that we neglect that it’s eminent. I asked myself do I preserve history ? Do I have to? Somebody else can do it right? I don’t have the answers yet, someone told me something about this bonded words , no answer is wrong there are just wrong questions. Then we had a mini play on Humanities, and I am glad that I found the right place for my foot, the backstage. I know a lot of people might think that it’s depressing. That it’s a station for losers who possess fears unknown by many but I breathe it, it’s my sanctuary. Lao Tzu’s theory of action through inaction. I didn’t need to speak, other says it for me and it is delivered beyond, It has penetrated walls while my mouth stayed shut. 
In the afternoon I visited a new bookstore. My Utopia has found me and I am ready as hell to dominate it. Books are my secret friends, my hidden family , my delusional companions and we all thrive in a private community. I went there with a mate who is also turning 19 in a week. Our eyes catches the same things and at that time we realized we have this common pursuit for thrill. We might have done what needed to be done. We headed home with laughter’s and secret we vowed never to tell. Does it make me a detached member of a family if I say I don’t really fancy eating out with my folks? Because that is how this day ended, I‘m the youngest and their conversations isolated me. Old people possess the wisdom that the young may never come to understand, but I guess that is the framework of life, we may learn the same things but we understand it differently. And that is why the young and the old don’t always meet. That is why we don’t like something every time. That is why we are unstable. If we were, we are so stuck. 
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