16:08. Listening to Stray Kids’s Question.
June’s sky is too blue, too bright, but at the same time, it’s never clear enough. There are always too many clouds, even during the night. It took me quite a time to figure out that the starless sky is less about the constant electricity in my village and more about those big, wide clouds covering any star presents.
Moon and stars used to be a daily occurrence during my childhood and teenage years. When I stood in the frontyard of my house, they were easily seen. Nowadays, I sleep earlier. Even when I don’t, the sky is often cloudy. During the three-minutes trip from my house to my grandmother’s house (I spend at least three or four nights a week there), I will look up and try to find the stars. Most of the time, I can’t find them. It feels lonely, like a piece of myself has disappeared into the darkness and while I was hoping I would find her, I couldn’t.
As I grow up, there are more questions circulating inside my mind. More than half of them has no right answer. Yesterday, I had been pondering about what I should do after graduating from college. I was restless because I no longer had specific dream. The future seemed vague, not because I didn’t know what would happen but because I didn’t know what I wanted to happen. As I grow up, I become more and more afraid to dream. It used to be easy when I was a kid. I wanted to be a teacher, I wanted to be astronaut, I wanted to be a writer, I wanted to work in the embassy–it used to be so easy in a way that everything seemed possible. And everything is possible–though now I am more afraid of failure and effort than I am supposed to. If there is anything I miss from being a child, it’s that limitless optimism. I want to be able to tell myself that everything is possible and that I can be anything I want.