I wrote this piece when I was 22; a naive, disillusioned girl who dreamt of something big but never had a chance to realize it.
Feeling nostalgic, I cleaned out some of the boxes housing manuscripts and quickly scribbled nothings in napkins and torn pieces of paper. It was nestled between two stickers that melded together, its adhesive just melted over time.
It was one of the poems I wrote when everything seemed to be crashing down, a reminder that an idealistic fool thought she could rule the world, but the world was too big for her even to navigate through.
At sixteen, many realizes that they’re on top of the world. Well, at least I thought I was. And when reality comes knocking, it does knock… and boy, does the realization reality bit me hard. Continue reading At Sixteen