i care a lot.

the highway was wider than it used to be. the houses on the side of the road were gone. there are more neighbors now than before. concrete houses erected on what was once a green field. establishments on the way to be finished. few parks repainted. trees cut down but some new ones grew. and most people unrecognizable.

three summers have gone by. i spend wandering around trying to tame my fate in these trying times. i opened new pages, listened to the latest songs, travelled to different places, met new people, ate strange foods, watched rumors fly, heard people died, and i don’t know, witness myself become weary?

growing up is so old. and i’m stuck with it. with things like, i should gain more weight, or be more friendly, or talk more to people, or open myself to others, or go out often, or grow your hair longer. and with things like ‘look after yourself’, or ‘never be indecisive’, or ‘save better’, or ‘spend wiser’, or ‘eat healthier’ or ‘be careful with love’, or even ‘just don’t have a boyfriend yet.’

when i was loud, they told me i was so loud. when i was quiet, they said i was failing. when i spoke again, they confirmed i was loud.

i think the greatest paradox that i possess is how i hate people tell me what to do while i do things they say i should do.

and in this corner three summers after, i am here – at a place where i feel home but unwelcome. some of my classmates had gone married, some have children, some are obscured in my memory, others i still don’t know the name.

after all of the things that i have been served with on my table, i am still the same. dreaming of being carefree, acting to be careful, but is always careless.

now that i have not changed the way you expected me to, what now?

am i offended?

affected?

do i take it personally?

or will i just be a prisoner again to expectations i cannot live by?

but why am i like this?

i think.

i just think that i was so used to approval and recognition that i think that was everything i have to hold so people will take notice of me. like a person on a deserted island waving a red flag but it’s actually a golden color when you look closer.

i think that maybe i shouldn’t stop caring about myself and stop caring about other people’s opinions on me. it brings me clouds of grey and a rainfall of tears brought about by seasonal depression.

now that am i here, and most of you are unrecognizable, why would i care?