Staring at the ceiling, I’m left thinking

as the clock strikes in another hour,

thinking, thinking, thinking,

my mind is a flurry of thoughts in a vicious snowstorm.

Endlessly questioning who I am,

or better yet, who I should be.

Interests and hobbies come and go

quicker than I’m ready to admit.

Self-criticism is my best skill, 

and comparing myself to others is my favorite pastime.

I find myself impatiently waiting for the time to pass,

all the while longingly reminiscing the times of my past.

As the nostalgic taste of sugar is soon drowned out

by the bitter taste of coffee.

I find the whole situation ironic really;

How my childish mindset of endless possibilities,

quickly grew into a strict outlook of practical realities;

How I’m forced to choose the decisions that will determine 

the rest of my life, yet I’m being treated

 as if I’m unable to make the right ones.

Watching myself as the years melt off my body,

I am all but an onlooker gazing at the mirror,

wondering, what kind of reflection will be left

to look back at me? 

It’s all murky:

expectations and aspirations clash,

emotions I can’t quite understand, 

anxiety and apathy both rule my mind.

The clock strikes, 

and as the morning comes,

I’m left staring at my ceiling, thinking,

God, when will I grow up.

God, I wish I could go back.