At Twenty Two

At 22
Written April 10 2010

I’ve been attempting to make sense out of the blur. But it’s just never easy, you know, having to answer to your very own queries which tend to multiply in heaps and stay stuck somewhere in the hypothalamus. Can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t motivate the self to keep going. Is this mid-life crisis which came way too early for me? Could it be PMS? I am simply here, in this spot, with this status, immobile. And quite frankly, my head digests too many things that my body, and the spirit, cannot act upon. I am nothing but jello, a weakling, a softie, a whiny, a person with no bones to support her humongous ego.

Why is it that everyone else seems to know exactly what they want and where they’re headed for? Why are they so definite at plans and goals? Am I the only one congealed and stumped in uncertainty? At 22, should I have found my life’s meaning and purpose and all that self-help stuff others talked about? Why am I so lost here, when there should really be no point? A profession well-earned and loved, friends who stand by you and shout at you if they must, awesome parents and siblings, these and more… Why am I still torn?

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