It's been more than two years since I stepped outside my comfort zone and embraced the world outside Padre Faura. Two years. Imagine, only two years. And yet, it feels like eons of years had passed. I feel old. I am withering.
Two years ago, I can pull off a triathlon consisting of drinking all night long, taking an exam the next day, and drinking after the exam. Without feeling tired. Without getting sick. Now, I can't even knock down a bottle of beer without feeling tipsy. I sleep at least 8 hours a day, but I always feel tired.
Once I tried to bring back the old times. Convinced that I can still get back the vigor I had for drinking and rock and roll, I spent three consecutive days drinking non-stop. Two days after, my immune system dropped significantly. I got sick. I am wasting away. But this I refuse to accept or to even acknowledge. I am only 22, how can that happen?
Two years ago, I can still manage to get my shit together. Despite the lack of sleep and resources, I can make anything happen. My optimism was beyond me. I believed in myself, in my idealism, in my dreams. At the time, everything was possible. But now, all that's left of me are memories--memories I can never re-create, memories I can never live again. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I try to search the person that I was two years ago. I try to look further: beyond my bloodshot eyes, beyond the blemishes in my skin. I try to find that 20-year old girl who thought she could be anything she wanted, but I cannot. She's gone.
I feel old and tired and sick. I can hear my soul creaking, slowly tearing apart inside this frail human body. I am tired. And I am too young to feel this tired.
Two years ago, I can pull off a triathlon consisting of drinking all night long, taking an exam the next day, and drinking after the exam. Without feeling tired. Without getting sick. Now, I can't even knock down a bottle of beer without feeling tipsy. I sleep at least 8 hours a day, but I always feel tired.
Once I tried to bring back the old times. Convinced that I can still get back the vigor I had for drinking and rock and roll, I spent three consecutive days drinking non-stop. Two days after, my immune system dropped significantly. I got sick. I am wasting away. But this I refuse to accept or to even acknowledge. I am only 22, how can that happen?
Two years ago, I can still manage to get my shit together. Despite the lack of sleep and resources, I can make anything happen. My optimism was beyond me. I believed in myself, in my idealism, in my dreams. At the time, everything was possible. But now, all that's left of me are memories--memories I can never re-create, memories I can never live again. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I try to search the person that I was two years ago. I try to look further: beyond my bloodshot eyes, beyond the blemishes in my skin. I try to find that 20-year old girl who thought she could be anything she wanted, but I cannot. She's gone.
I feel old and tired and sick. I can hear my soul creaking, slowly tearing apart inside this frail human body. I am tired. And I am too young to feel this tired.
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