VHS

At 22, I find myself missing life. 

“But Karli”, you could say, “You still have so much to do and see; you’re still young. How could you miss life?” 

To which I’d respond with the fact that you can still miss something you currently hold. It’s an odd concept surely, but one that you can find plaguing the minds of many. I miss taking breaths that aren’t weighted by fear. I miss completing tasks with a feeling of triumph, as opposed to one that cannot revel in completion, but instead grows heavy at the thought of the foreboding chores to come. I miss finding joy in the “now”, as I currently only experience the sensation looking forward, not in the mirror. I’m rarely content with where I stand, for how can one sunbathe in peace with the knowledge of the ever-changing tide that is to come?

I find that monotony is unavoidable in my present stage of life. Yet, this is something we all come to expect isn’t it—living life as an old VHS tape that we loved as kids. We’d finish the movie full of wonder and awe, only to jam our fingers in to rewind it; ready to experience the same exact scenarios with the same, unwavering excitement. It’s interesting how things change. 

I internally feel far too old to just be in the middle of my life. I can only imagine my mindset amplifying with age, and to me this sounds miserable. “Change your path then”, “change your habits or ways of living”, one could say. Sure, I easily could, but is there a point to rearrange your surroundings when the home inside your mind remains untouched?

“Well... change your way of thinking”. If only it were that simple.

I ask myself daily where I must have obtained my slightly pessimistic outlook from—I had and still have a highly privileged life, no one has instilled this thought process onto me, so where could it manifest? I start my day with a cup of black coffee, for I need it now only for the bodily recharge instead of enjoyment, so why waste my time with flavors? My mornings shine more light on the rest of my day than I realized.

Everyone misses childhood. Every person longs for the youthful innocence, the freedom from responsibilities, and the lack of weight that aging expects you to carry. I find that what I experience is so much more than this, however. I miss who I used to be. I miss waking up everyday with a vibrant enthrallment towards the next fifteen or so hours that I had yet to experience. The joys of my previous days appeared to be laid out like hidden gems that I strove to find while the minutes flowed by. Time ticks now, instead of drifts, and it does so much more slowly when I’m eager, or at an alarming rate when I want to slow down.

Life isn’t fair; we all know this, but I never understood the term fully until now. I miss 

what was but cope with what is. I am still here, but I miss me.