Trepidation

Puzzled by big matters, I started questioning my existence in an early age.

Counting my days as if my days were counted.

A distinct feeling of time running out of my hands made me believe I wouldn’t be here to live my life as an adult.

To this day, time remains ineffable .

As a kid I tried to picture myself an old lady, but the notion of me having lived a whole life seemed unreal and illusory.

Big matters calls for big feelings, and that is exactly what I am. Constantly reflecting on what is happening. Adulthood scares me. Time scares me.

My fingers have eagerly longed for the noisy keyboard, the familiar sound of my fingers touching letters creating a still unknown result. Sentences elegantly constructed in the back of my head making their way to my fingers to be placed next to another. It is in the back of my head doodles are drawn and words connect. As the doodles start drawing outside the lines the words come to life. The remaining thing left I let be with no precaution what so ever.

The illusion of eternal youth, the notion of Peter Pans "never growing up"fractures with the realisation that I have been a grown-up for a while. My existence have never been simple, the complex thoughts that haunts my inner doesn't easily control. Uncontrollably they overpower me and I let them. Ever since I was a kid the emotions have been strong and grand. My temper was defining for my person. I never had a traumatic or bad childhood, I've had loving parents but I've just always been too much. Thoughts occur without a beginning but are thought to an end before being said. The written word express what I don't have the guts to say, what my lips refuse to put sound to. A filterless mind. Drawn towards melancholy and big existential questions, music and poetry have remained my escape. Music in which I let go, beautiful hymnes with lyrics capturing what I do not say. Because I am coward.

On screen I own my words, I feel them. However, saying them out loud occurs only on the nights I surrender to my rhapsodies of melancholy.

My unbalance is not chemically related, no, it is bound by something much greater and much stronger - me.

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