The older I get, the more I realize how finite everything is, how many less roads there seem to be. It’s just a mind trick I know. But I’ll be 21 in about a month from now. In July, it’ll be 9 years since my mother was incarcerated. When I first heard what her sentence was, I thought I would never get through it, never understand what 16 years felt like to hold in your hands. Now I realize that I’ve been hoping for the clock to speed up all this time, hoping I get older faster. But the older I get, the more I wish I could hold on to each passing moment just a little longer.
Quicker than I can realize, I’ll be getting married, having kids, taking care of myself. My elders will pass on and ill replace them as my children step up to take the plate. That inertia that propelled me into my newfound adulthood keeps pushing whether you want it to or not.
It’s hard to imagine a single lifetime. For some reason it only just occurred to me I would be living once. Reincarnation or not, my conscious mind will only exist in this lifetime once. And that alone makes me so afraid, so anxious. I hope I don’t make too many mistakes, miss out on too many memories.