CETTE PARTIE

At this part of my life, I wouldn’t like to say that I’m depressed or miserable. I’ve just found the literal description of my state: I’m a jealous, disappointed, smart kid. I’ve spent my life not knowing what to call myself or how to explain how different I am... never really belonging anywhere. But then I realized where my passion was taking me, and I started calling myself things that actually had a title.

I thought this was where I would be driven into a lifestyle and career, and that knowing who I am would definitely be the way to achievement. Although I’m never wrong about my goals or mistaken about what I’m deeply obsessed with, I just can’t help overthinking and trying to figure out what’s missing.

Regardless of how I feel right now and my surroundings, I just wish I could read this a year from now, after I have finally figured out that there was nothing wrong with my intuition.

I wish life would take me somewhere far away, completely pulling me from my negative thoughts until I forget what they were like.
I wish that when I read this in a year, it would feel sorry enough for the current me.
And I wish I never had to go back to a crisis that’s full of nothingness.

I have to stay fair while speaking about my type of impasse. It took me a while to realize that I didn’t really exist during this whole period. Letting the clock pass in a slow pattern while completely isolating myself... sleeping every day for 16 hours straight, waking up only to take my meds and eat a meal I usually crave, and then starting a new sleep cycle, is completely not being alive. And again, this isn’t depression or death, but I’m pretty sure there will be a definition for it when I’m officially down or making history.