How do I know that this will ever be enough? I can’t picture myself settling. I want to meet new people, laugh under the dim lights of someone's first apartment, watch as the sunset casts rosy-orange lines on my hand through the shutters. I want to feel what I’ve never felt, everything that is possible to feel.
I want to run through a field, slippery from last night's dew and feel the frost on my cheeks against the warmth of my body. I want to watch the stars out my bedroom window, somewhere secluded, away from society, and sob and ache in all the right ways. I want to go to another country by myself, and struggle through that language barrier until it feels as if I have ascended, reached another plane of existence. I want to sit in the passenger seat of someone's car with my arm out the window and my hand on the aux, and savor those first tastes of freedom on my lips.
Deep down, some part of me is terrified that this will never be enough.
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