After four days, I’m only beginning to embrace the fact that I just turned a year older. How could time fly by so fast?

Excuse the cliche but it does really feel it is only yesterday that I was filling up my college applications. I can recall my enthusiasm and thirst to step on to college and wanting to know everything and to try everything—every experience there is—at once. Now, here I am lying on the carpet inside my room, typing this as if my plate is already full. Although as a matter of fact, I’m still in my teenage years. But to put it more accurately, I’m in my last teenage year. Still, I couldn’t help but feel so old. True enough, you get more sensitive with your age as you get older and it feels like there is only so much left for you to do. It’s like lining up for death row. And to tell you the truth, I think I haven’t done most of what I really wanted to do. But that also doesn’t mean that I’m not enjoying what I’m doing. It’s just that things could have turned out better.

Youth is wasted on the young, they say. I couldn’t agree more to that. Even if I haven’t lived half my life yet (hopefully), I feel like I wasted too much of it already. Only to let that guilt feeling nagging at me and telling me that I could have done better which is a bit ironic actually as it only comes up aftereverything happens. If only the brain is capable of predicting the outcomes, then everything wouldn’t be this hard and puzzling and sickening and unfortunate.