i can't remember when was it that i unconsciously became afraid of numbers. 'people fear what they do not understand' is one of the things i often times tell myself. yet i find it ironic how in my awareness of my fear, i not abated but am more engulfed by it. 24. 16. 23. 25..
i am turning year short of a quarter a centery old in 17 days. and i guess, most people would find my agitation unnerving. but i am certain that my internal clamor has nothing to do with vanity - given that i have so little of it. my main concern, the thing that makes me fumble in my confidence the most and the utter source of my quake is the fact that i have come so little. that i've only come this far. that i have proven to myself that 24 years of existence is not enough to be truly alive.
no i am not disturbed, nor am i lacking in affection. i am neither depressed nor suicidal. i guess the term that best suits my emotions is that i am hovering in-the-betweens of a dream coil and reality. i am watching myself sleep and yearning to awaken at the same time.
give me consciousness. give me time. give me space. give me all the aromas this barren earth could muster. give me flight. give me tranquility. give me truth. give me a moment to be truly alive.