There’s a funny feeling in my gut
when I think about turning 23
Feeling like I’m in the same rut
as the eighteen year old me
The feeling of dread persists
as I ponder what the future holds
but can’t deny the excitement that consists
when I think about my story untold
Each new day is a page
that’s ready to be written
Each chapter an age
Making it memorable an ambition
How can I follow a predestined journey
when I love life’s obscurity
and replace it with a life without worry
with certain security
Constantly giving myself permission
to enjoy the life I’m living
but when it is no one else’s vision
the look of judgement is unforgiving
I can hold myself from leaping
because I know it’s safer on the cliff
but if I don’t jump I’ll be sleeping
on this experience I’ll definitely miss
About the Creator
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Guess the whiskey was more important to you in the end, wasn’t it? It was more than the well-being of your friends; more vital than showing up to the places you promised you would and could come to; more critical of a matter than fulfilling your damn responsibilities and getting the press off your back.
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