Ode to The Youths of The World

**Note: I wrote this when I was 18 — when my view of the world was simpler, and the meaning of life unclear.


I’ve always had big dreams but as age catches up with me, these dreams have started becoming delusions of grandeur.

I’m afraid of growing old because so many things can only be achieved with youth.

Youth is an asset, and I am squandering my youthful existence away. My dreams have taken a backseat to the realities of life; my heart is cold and tortured.

If only I could just go… Go right now to any far-flung corner of the world. Go dipping into the crystal clear oceans, swimming beside dolphins; go galloping through the desert at night on a camel’s back; go sit around a warm fire with a group of European warriors, roasting spitfire turkey while chugging down barrels of ale.

If only I could go explore the castles of Norway, meet a wicked witch there and become her apprentice.

Or if only I could become a rock star for just a day.

If only I could become a comic character, I would turn myself into Archie Andrews and end up at Riverdale High.

And if only I could be young forever, I would not spend another minute worrying that all my dreams are slowly passing me by.

Tick, tock, tick, tock… Time is passing by…

I’m supposed to be a woman, and I’m supposed to be sensible and practical. I’m supposed to do what the world thinks is right for a lady… but then I’ll never be me.

My dreams and fantasies are never going to come true in my lifetime. Why do I set such high hopes for myself? Why do I dream of dreams that I know will never come true?

Perhaps after all that has been said and done, I still believe that one day, something marvellous is going to happen in my life.

All these years, what am I waiting for?

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