Words

  It's been two years since I've felt the need to write my thoughts down. My mind has been plagued with existential dread that I can't get out of my head. The grey hairs that begin to line my mother's hairline more and more, or the way my friends have stopped dressing like we are still in high school. The thought of growing up has continued to sicken me more and more. The older I get, the less I begin to know about myself. I thought when I was 18 that feelings were fleeting and that nothing lasts forever, but I realized that's true only of the good things. I know I sound dumb to complain about how good my life is, about all the blessings I have. My parents are still together and alive, my friends love me, and I love them back. I still do well in school, even though I lost the passion for it a long time ago. I know I'm lucky, but I think I will always feel undeserving of it. I wonder if it is because of that parochial school mindset that is engraved into my brain...