In the short and fleeting years of my life, I have lived many lifetimes.
When I was young,
I climbed the roof of my home,
Searching for something more exciting
To see or hear or do,
Only to realise there isn’t much.
Yet, I continued to search
And climbed trees as high as the sky
While watching beautiful landscapes
Change as my worldview grew.
When I was seventeen,
I found myself in a state of existentialism,
Wondering, what was the point of living,
When heaven is our home.
I found a friend on a weekend away
Who understood my laments and reminded me,
That the world isn’t just broken—
Everything was made beautiful in its time.
When I was twenty-one,
I was confined inside the same four walls,
Trapped inside the same bed
For what felt like more than a lifetime.
I find it hard to get out of bed when tomorrow only awaits the same fate.
Sometimes I think I would starve if not for my mother.
It is hard to believe I had ever lived when freedom runs further and further away.
It no longer feels like I am living at all.
水 