I’m searching for something- reaching for it, but I know not what it is. I sense it is somewhere, but where? There’s always a longing for this thing, but I can never find what it is.

Temporary comfort is found in trivial things, but they cannot satisfy me. I still search for what I am missing, and feel as if it is always near me, but will never come to me.

Sometimes, I feel that it is far away and other times it is on my fingertips, almost within reach, but then goes away again. What is it that I search for? What is it that I want? I feel incomplete and empty.

Sometimes, I look at those around me and see their paths already chosen and their minds set. They know what is to come and what they want, leaving me far behind. They say I’m formidable and amazing, but I still feel empty. What is it that I’m missing? Why must I make a choice?

Choice? What about a choice? What does that have to do with what I am missing? I look to those around me, and feel that I am far too different from them, and fear that one day I will be discovered, and yet at the same time anticipate that day with much eagerness.

Some days, I feel the tightness of this cage called a body more than other days, and wish to escape it dearly, but cannot. Other days, I appreciate this body and enjoy my time in it, thankful for this container. I know not myself and neither do others.

One day, I am studious and mature; the next I am childish and find school boring. What is it that I truly reach for? Sometimes I question this, other times I tell myself to destroy that thought if I am to survive in this world. For this world is unfavourable should one be left behind in life, or so they tell me.

What is it that I want to do? One day, I may have to make a choice, but for now, perhaps I’ll enjoy this paradox I live in.