I’m 17, still at the day stage of my life as the elders would say. I haven’t reached the peak. I’ve experienced a lot, some I already forgot, and some I tend to repeatedly reminisce and relive every single time.
I’m 17. Seventeen years of my existence have been grounded by a single question, “What’s my purpose?” Too early to jump into conclusions, too fragile to realize.
I’m 17. I’ve been through partly the course of life’s turns and downs. Rejection, embarrassment, selfish demeanor, depression and anxiety.
I repeat, I’m 17.
I’m 17. I’ve been through partly the course of life’s dulcet beauty. Achievement, fulfillment, fantasies, dreams and love.
Again, I repeat, I’m 17.
17. A number. It would remain as a number. Yes, just a number and not a limitation.