After plotting my dreams on paper, after all the planning, the organizers—I realized I’m still as lost as ever. After all the 'convincing of having it together's, I realized how instantly things could alter.
Tonight, as I breathe deeply and count from ten, I remind myself that it’s okay to drop the map and wander.
Ten. Not everything goes as planned. That doesn’t make you less of an adult.
Nine. You have to give up dreams. But you can always pick them back up when the time allows.
Eight. It’s not always rainbows and butterflies. But some days, you’ll still chance upon purple skies. So much of growing up is about living for those rare moments compressed within a series of dull ones.
Seven. Maybe it’s not about the destination. Not about the journey, too. Maybe it’s about the people who help you get through.
Six. Everyone’s carrying a handicap. Everyone’s weighed by the goals that they had to give up. We’re all lonely worlds crossing each other, but some way, somehow, we still manage to smile and encourage each other to walk for miles. How beautiful is that?
Five. They’re closing in again—the walls of my room. Sweaty palms. Clenched fists. But I catch a glimpse of the light of the moon. Right now, I’m sitting on a planet adrift. In a century, I will cease to exist. But these hands… these fists… how awfully real they feel. Maybe I’ll go make myself a sandwich.
Four. Today, I did nothing but lie in bed all day. Maybe productivity includes these necessary delays. We all need stopovers to have our energy regained.
Three. Is there a written guideline about being a grown-up? Yes, a couple, I guess. But a guide doesn’t guarantee a trip that’s fun and safe. Some days, you still have to figure out things yourself, no matter how much you prepared. Growing up is not textbook-based.
Two. My compass is broken. Can the stars be my guide? Maybe the Universe still listens to those who ask for its light.
One. I may not be born as a fighter, but I was born a wanderer. All my plans will crumble down, but as long as my feet are on the ground, as long as I hear the Universe’s silent sounds, I’ll keep on walking until I get to what I marked on the map. I’ll get there, even without a concrete guide.
I'll get there, no matter how awfully lost I am. I'll get there, no matter what.
But for now, it's okay to be lost, to wander for awhile, to not be found. As long as my feet are on the ground. As long as I could lift my head to see the stars above.