I considered titling this: **I want to be near a lake somewhere**

Here is a truth:

I’m reminiscent of my youth, and I’m 25.

It’s not such a strange concept, but it a strange feeling. I’m already mourning my youth. I think I gathered, I am no longer in my early-20s, but I have a feeling I never was.

Right now I am sitting in my boyfriend’s flat. He is, perhaps, the physical embodiment of this new life. 9 years older, always in a suit, away on business. In theory, that is exciting, in practice it’s quietly exhausting.

I’m surrounded by the things I always wanted. I’m bulk-cooking, I’m browsing for furniture, I’m preparing for a ski trip. I spent the last month pushing my startup uphill.

Something is shifting. My body feels heavy, and irritable. My hormones are doing things I don’t recognise. I’m tired in a way sleep won’t fix. 

I’ve started shopping compulsively, and I can’t seem to write anymore. Probably, apart from this. I have clothes I donated with the tags still on recently, and it brought me shame.

I’ve never done anything irrational and crazy.

I’ve never stayed out until 5am laughing with a group of friends. No lakes, no beaches, no boys. I was homeschooled, an entrepreneur at 18, always "keen," always working, always getting on with things.

Now, I just want to be in a field. I want to swim in a lake. I want to be reckless. I don’t want to think about reporting my taxes. I don’t want to save that particular bread for the tomato soup. I have to wash the sheets. I have to think of a menu for a friends visiting dinner. I’ve offered the guest room and I’m hoping anxiously that they do not accept.

I want to eat berries from a bush, walk barefoot, and spend ungodly hours in the sun. There is no conclusion to this post, but I felt compelled to share.

Mourning Youth At 25