Caribbean Sun and Russian Winters

I don't know how to live in the now.

All I've been doing is just a series of continuous monotonous activities that would ensure the security of my place in the future and my happiness that entails. My sweet host mum practically begged me to have fun. "You're still young," she said, "It's okay for you to have fun." But what if my version of fun isn't having it now, rather being happy with myself alone in the future. I suppose I could argue with her logic, if she retorted something along the line of pointing the fact that I am just still in my almost-twenty, by saying that I can actually have fun; but I cannot rest and have fun if I can't secure my place in the future. Because I don't know what to do if I were to fail everything that I've fought for, that I am done dying for. Perhaps I would wither like a small flower that failed to bloom in the midsummer night.

I promise you, however, I am living. I am living for my past and for my future.

My past, because she deserves a good journey. A great adventure that she had always dreamed of when she was forced to stuck in her own little mind place. She deserves to gaze at the stars where the pollution and night lights don't spoil the majestic twinkles. She deserves a full year living under the Caribbean sun, finally getting her skin tanned the way she always wanted to have. She deserves getting lost in a crowd of dancing mosh pit. She deserves wearing layers upon layers of thick clothing in order to keep her from the Russian winter. She deserves great conversations with strangers in hipster cafes. She deserves happiness.

And my future, for keeping me alive.