When I was little

I miss how innocent I was when it comes to how the real world works. I miss how I could playfully risk things without overanalyzing the consequences. The times I wasn’t afraid of what’s slipping away. I miss how passionate I was to invent new hobbies and abandon it when my attention deviated into something new and interesting. I miss the times I wasn’t afraid to make mistakes or worried about wasting my time — the busy days where I felt more alive and productive, or lazy and forgetful. I miss how I wasn’t terrified to lose myself in between the lines of past and present.

I miss how gentle the world used to be when you’re young — or perhaps, it was just my age that convinced me it’s less harsh when you’re not yet opening the doors and letting reality take a seat in your life. Now, my fears of investing in something temporary numb me. The thought of clinging to something that’s here only for a while felt like the greatest gamble I do not have enough courage to jeopardize. I became very picky with whom to give love and when I did, I always give too much just to make people stay because I am now troubled to begin with new ones again. I miss my once happy-go-lucky self. I miss waking up in the morning without really pressuring myself to have an answer about what’s my real purpose.

Now, I just feel tired of trying to be at my best. I just feel drained trying to do something for a living. I keep walking ahead but the haze never ceases. My passion and energy to do something priceless kept disintegrating. All I ever did was chase opportunities that weren’t made for me. All I ever did was belittle myself when forcibly placed in a crowd of glimmering success and comparison.

All I ever want for now is to survive even if that would mean I’ll survive miserably.

Written by Mica Meñez