I find it hard to describe the longing I feel when I think of what’s to come,
The feeling of space in my stomach, making room for future plans and goals.
Sometimes it’s exciting, the possibilities endless in their quest for satisfaction.
Sometimes it’s terrifying, the fear of wasting my ideas to a life of boredom and monotony.
There are so many things I want to do and so much time to do them, but what if I use the time unwisely and never get past writing a bucket list, what if my midnight dreams and sunrise hopes are only ever nice thoughts and the impractical mindset of the young?