“amazing still it seems, i’ll be 23
i won’t always love what i’ll never have
i won’t always live with my regrets
you’ll sit alone forever if you wait for the right time
what are you hoping for?“
– from “23” by jimmy eat world
for some strange reason, 23 sounds far more adult than 22. it makes me think twice before i cry, as if tears are a mark of childhood. i chide myself for getting upset at things, as if adulthood means everything should be dealt with in a cold, unfeeling, “mature” manner.
well, in front of people at least.
i want to cry.
i wanted the right place, the right time, the right people. i had it all within my grasp and now it’s gone. i’m sitting alone again, as if that’s the order of the universe, how things are meant to be. i’m always hoping for the better things to come which never come, not when i hope it will or need it to anyway.
this is not the end of the world, of course. it makes me feel lonely and isolated and a downright idiot, but i still believe things will work out, no matter how much i feel like i’m being punished just for believing in that.
i still believe things will work out. i still believe things will work out.