a thing i wrote before my 22nd birthday

i’m almost 22
and it looks like time has smeared its face all across my window
forgetting who i might’ve been
who i might be now

all of my favourite people in one room
i am so full
stomach, heart, brain
all about to burst
so happy and yet so sad all at once
i don’t get it
it would be good for me if i stopped trying to

sometimes i feel matter crumbling away from me
and so i bend over to collect the pieces
and only my shadow is left behind
and i watch it in the space
how it fills it
and leaves it hollow
but it is hollow
so does it ever really fill it?

almost 22 and i feel so many things
things so hard to explain
expectation and standards and love and disappointment and questions
and never any answers and the deepest longing for a fucking break

i am busy
too busy
i don’t want to be anymore
but who am i if i’m not?