a message to my young self.

dear young me,

I hope you're fine while reading this.

I know how you feel right now, about life and the people around you,

and I hope you're not as anxious as I remember.

you're probably having fun and laughing like everybody else, but I know you're always doubting your joy and the reasons behind it.

it's tiring, isn't it?

all of these silly doubts engulfing your happiness as you overthink every single feeling.

I feel bad for you, for you had never let go of such asinine assumptions, 

maybe that made you forget everything you once knew about pure euphoria, 

or maybe it had just distorted the image of some moments that were meant to be ecstatic.

joy was indeed temporary, but it was just like waves; it always came and went, and you'd never know unless you stepped foot in the water.

I just wish you had known better,

I wish you knew that special moments were bound to come to an end, yet I wish you had believed that much better times were definitely coming.

I wish you had looked forward to seeing tomorrow's sun, rather than dwelling on the past's dull moon.

I hope you had learnt how to bask in the sunlight on warm mornings, instead of worrying about an awful tan you would never get anyway.

happiness lays between your palms, but you were too burdened with the weight on your shoulders.