Growing up is harder than I thought...

As I grow older, I find myself yearning for improvements in my life. I want to embrace adulthood, to become a professional, to build a career, and to lead a small circle of people—creating a life filled with meaningful memories, celebrations, and moments.

But, as often happens, reality hits hard. Yes, things are beginning to fall into place. I'm becoming more professional in certain areas of my life, but somewhere along the way, I’ve lost the pure happiness I once had. Stress weighs heavier on me now, but this time it’s not just stress; it’s the kind that comes with real challenges. I cry more often now—not from fleeting moments, but from the deep mental breakdowns that seem to hit out of nowhere. I lose my grip, regain it, shake, recover, fall, rise again—constantly searching for balance, but never quite finding it.

There’s a sense of longing that’s hard to put into words. I miss so many things—the simplicity, the joy of things I once took for granted. I miss the people, but it’s worse because I’ve grown distant, and the connections are not what they once were. I miss my home, but it's not just the place; it’s the feeling of being there, when it was still my home, with me in it. It’s not easy to explain, but it’s like a piece of me is missing.

I used to have dreams—dreams that I’ve achieved. I wanted the job, the life, the success. But now that I’m here, I find that the next chapter is a territory I never really considered. I’m in uncharted waters, trying to navigate through a path I never foresaw. Some things didn’t go as planned, and yes, some parts of my journey have been nothing short of disasters that have shaped me in ways I never anticipated.

So, what can I do? I’ve learned to move on. I’ve learned to face my fears, to practice gratitude, and to be more cautious. But one thing I haven’t figured out how to do is to reclaim that innocence, that carefree happiness I had as a child. I’ve lost the answer to that part of me. I buried it deep in my mind, covered it with thousands of tiny seeds, hoping that one day, as they grow, I’ll be able to unearth the answers and, maybe, rediscover the person I once was—the one who knew joy without fear.