Oh it’s happening now, 18 is

im stealing some time out of my non-stop schedule of a student to write this.

i was talking to a friend today in school about the coolest & the shallowest thing that happened in my life during the week. im so ashamed of myself for actually wanting to be one of them who have something to talk about. and not just any something. i have no doubt this is just another phrase of my life that i seem to enjoy the attention of but it will slip away into the depths of past and join the other memories in their shadowy cave where it will never see the light of the day ever again.

it has been a busy week. as i am sitting here, my thoughts are a mess. so is my hair and my room. i am so tired, all i want is to have a good sleep. but there’s so much in my hands, things to do, things to remember, things to study for. if i were this 16 year old kid i was back then, i would have simply dropped everything without a moment’s notice and run away. running away is the only thing i was really good at. i just didnt care.

then i turned eighteen.

the day i turned eighteen, i knew that i can never ever afford running away from things i dislike doing or people i loathe communicating if i had to do it, had to talk to them again. i was fished out of this comfortable tank of sweet smelling garden with soft pillows and hot chocolate, into the busy, wet street of the world, with musky smelling taverns and dark dirty alleys. being eighteen also mean i have the responsibilities to not let down people who look up to me & regard me highly, not disappoint myself & my own bigass ego.

i started to pick up after myself. i knew how much responsibilities mean to one’s reputation. i saw by how just being happy, following your dreams and wanting to relive all those fairy-tales cannot happen in the 21st century. to survive, it’s necessary to walk along the lanes of reality, sweet-talk and hard work behind closed doors.

im really new at this. eighteen is so burdened, so stressed. im tired to the max, i cant sleep because the time spent on sleeping can be used to finishing so much more work. i cant stop and breathe, i cant do anything right when everything needs to be without a crease.

spm is coming out im suffocating, my mid-term exam is just around the corner, i have my own personal problems to mend and sew back. my back’s breaking and im trying to sit up right and glance over my notes just one more time before i sleep. and then one more time spreads into more and more of those and i dont sleep.

my friends told me i look like a drug addict with the heavy dark circles below my eyes, & the veins in them. one of them merely said, “sleep early, rest well, drink more water.” & that was when i felt like bursting into tears.

there you go, eighteen.