I recently turned 24. It shocks me to think in less than a year I will be a quarter of a century. And in all this birthday confusion, ponderings have bubbled to the surface. What am I doing? Why am I here? Why am I so damn scared to leave yet petrified to stay? Ya know, all those quarter-life crisis questions that haunt you in the middle of the night and force your exhausted self to count jumping mermaids which slowly start to lose solid form like "The Persistence of Memory" as sleep covers you causing bizarre and startling dreams.
I worry and wait and sit, confounded by what I think I want to do and what I am actually doing.
I long for something I'm not quite sure of yet.
I want to break away from society.
I want to run.
I want to see mermaids playing on the shore and follow their laughter into the future.
