#20somethingthoughts

[scribblesofa20something]

I look in the mirror at myself,

My skin is clearer,

The lines aren't super defined yet,

My hair hasn't presented any greys.

I'm still young.

But I don't always feel that,

Another trip around the sun has come,

I've done so much in that time,

Yet I feel I have achieved nothing too.

But I'm still young.

I'm not someone's one and only,

My hips haven't bore children,

My bank account is screaming,

The roof above me is not my own.

Breathe, I'm still young.

It will all come together,

Time carries on and I grow too,

Love will come right?

My funds will replenish right?

Chill, you're still young.

It will all fall into place

Because I'm still young.

[zizileamaso]

I’m scared

Life is so weird, I’m in a place where everyone around me is going through a big change in their journey.

I’m trying to remain centred in myself and asking God and the universe to smile upon me, it’s not always easy manoeuvring how you’re managing your emotions when you constantly are on the sidelines.

I’m getting to a point in my life, where I am considering redefining my goals and where the goalposts exist.

is it really all about the big house, beautiful family and accolades? Can it not be about the experiences, the people and the places I’ve been. ?

I’m so scared.

[zizileamaso]

I’ve been in a mental slump, part of me wants to call it a decline … the worst part is I usually like to fix things and fast too and maybe it feels worse because I’m truly struggling too.

I do tend to withdraw and find comfort in myself. This time around I’m struggling. It’s time to turn to a therapist cause I know realise this is beyond me.

[zizileamaso]

Word to the wise:

A lost love doesn’t mean you are unworthy or undeserving.

Be careful of confusing unrequited love for vulnerability when someone fixates on your beauty.

Tears are necessary, they remind us the importance of expressing emotions: they will hurt, they demand to be felt mentally, emotionally and physically.

Dreams will come true so long as you keep actively believing in them, and yourself.

Worry is a true killer of joy. Protect your peace and happiness at all cost life is fragile. Intention is a gift.

[zizileamaso]

I used to sit quietly and daydream about what my next move would be. I’ve sort of learned to let all that go. To appreciate what’s in front of me, to consume all I can while life remains so unpredictable and precious

I am not a fan of not having control, I remember praying to God asking for him to grant me the ability to be more patient.

Being forced to be patient hasn’t set well with me. But it has taught that what is for me will find me and not to try speed up the process. Nature takes it’s sweet time

Wait your turn, walk your path, some wins will feel like losses keep that faith up.

[lovesongsandrainynights]

Sense and Sensibility

Hey Miss, what does it mean, to be sensible? To make sense? 

Are all adults sensible? Do all sensible people make sense?

I wanna be an adult too.

So how do you become sensible?

Do you accept that a job is a job is a job?

Do you accept that a job is money and money is a life, and a life is a life is a life?

To be sensible, do you have to accept that oh, children are naive! Children are oblivious to the harsh realities of the real world!

They think a dream is a dream is not just a dream, but oh, you can forgive them because silly kids. They're young!

Adults are older aren't they?

Does that mean they have have to accept that a dream is a dream and nothing more?

But of course there's no room for dreaming, adults are all too busy making a life! And a life is a life as long as there are numbers to your name and photos to your Facebook, never mind the fact that such a life is built out of the expectations of others! 

No, dear child that is what being sensible is all about.

In that case Miss, I'd rather not become sensible.

It certainly doesn't make sense to me.

[lovesongsandrainynights]

Sometimes

Sometimes I wonder if it's wrong to still think of you with such fondness. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever recall these half-forgotten memories without fondness, without a small smile involuntarily creeping across my dimples and without the breath hitching in my throat.

Sometimes I fear, that I never will. That I’ll simply go on living day by day filled with regret until regret is in my ears and nostrils and tear ducts. Until all I hear is your voice in the breeze, all I smell is your musk on my sheets, all I cry are your tears from my past.