"Will I be something?
Am I something?
And the answer comes:
You already are.
You always were.
And you still have time to be."
— Anis Mojgani
When I was 9, I wanted to be an astronaut. When I was 13, I wanted to be an artist. Now that I'm finally almost 20 in a span of 17 days, the gap between the dreaming-to-become phase of my life suddenly shifts closer to the executing-the-dream phase. The anxiety that I haven't let myself grow into full bloom yet is building up, and I find myself rapidly stitching every picture with every available thread to fill that gnawing gap inside.
Have I learned enough? Have I met enough people in my life? Have I grown? Have I become something I wanted to be? It feels like a countdown to my own funeral, when it's the complete opposite. Apparently, discomfort and growth only come as a package deal. Here's to the remaining days that I have to endure/appreciate!