My mom called me a 19 year old kid today, which no doubt I am, but somehow it made me wonder. Am I still a kid? Or is 19 supposed to be grown up?
I sure behave like a grown up. Most of the times atleast.
I’m expected to take responsibilities. I do take them. I’m careless but not by choice, I just tend to forget things sometimes.
I can’t prioritize my list of people or things that I must do. I’m never on time for anything. I mix almost everything up.
I sometimes want to take to the streets. Hum out a song in the silence of deep slumber. I want to do many impossible things. Accomplish many dreams that are mostly foolhardy.
Have I become fake? Have I become another mutation in the cogwork of this great worldly machinery? Who am I?
What is my ailment?
Is this a condition? A dilemna? A disease?