At the Edge of Twenty-Two

Days blurred into seasons, and somehow… I reached twenty-two. No pride. No sense of arrival. Only a weight in my chest that won’t lift. I look back for meaning— for anything that says I lived. But I find nothing. Time moves. I don’t. They become. I remain. I chose a path they warned me about— a dark forest I thought I could cross. But the light left a long time ago. And every step only takes me deeper. I was meant to become something… instead, I’m searching for what’s left of me. Time slips. I sink. And somewhere along the way, I became a burden— on them… and on myself. Now, at twenty-two, I wonder… was there ever a way out, or was I just getting lost all along?

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