Just the other day, I pondered on the topic of passion. It seems everyone has a passion or something that they're good at. And then it hit me how I don't exactly have something that I'm all too passionate about. It made me feel a little inferior in society. How can a person not know herself at all despite having lived for 18 years. It made me sad. Every time I get into a philosophical bout with myself, I get frustrated and annoyed. 

I started to question the very core of my being (yet once more) and again, I'm not satisfied with my own answers. I have too many aspirations for myself. Yet, I don't seem to adjust too well to certain developments. It's getting better I know, but the older I get; the more self-doubt arises. 

Art. That's one thing I know that I will always dabble in. It's my forevermore. Versus the prospect of touching science, anything that has to do with art is what I'm interested in. I've grown up sketching, drawing, writing and dreaming. It's nothing to brag about because I've never been exceptionally good at any of those. I just move with the flow - an on the spur moment - at the snap of my intuitions. 

And right now, it plagues me that I don't have a foreseen goal in mind. I grow old everyday. It's still a haunting subject. And when I reach a certain age, I will have to face the world alone. Regardless of having support from all sides - I would always have to be alone. At 18, I'd like to say I've been to many places, done many things - that I have. Not as much as I would have liked to have done, I'm disappointed. But I've got years to come. And all that matters is where I end up anyway. 

source: karenthomasphot

I'm yet at another phase in life. My train of philosophical thoughts have led me to a very uncomfortable position. I like where I am, yet I don't. It's complacency. I won't get anywhere if I don't move. I'm familiar, yet uncomfortable in my own home. Which doesn't make any sense. And right now, I just want to be surrounded by everything that belongs to me.