There are moments that I yearn to escape from, to shed this skin that serves as a transient sanctuary. Yet, there are milestones where I find solace in my own presence, marveling at the distance my spirit has traversed. I strive to distill my days into simplicity, but I encounter souls, spaces, and objects that stir my core, inundating me with a torrent of emotions that remain an alien dialect to my speech.

I am youthful, at least in spirit, and it feels as though I have witnessed a treasure chest of bygone eras. The purpose of my existence is still an enigma to me, yet I feel besieged from all directions to carve out and define my identity. I am weary of the influence others exert on me. There are times when I long for the person I once was: aloof, stoic, and formidably impervious.

Now, I seem to be an open book, susceptible to the world… a state I simultaneously cherish and abhor. These are the musings of a soul caught in the twilight of self-discovery, the half-past-one blues of existence.

© Beatriz Esmer