A Question for the People Who've Achieved Feeling Alive

As a little girl, I was always told that when I got older I would want life to slow down. The older I become, the more I wonder when exactly life will actually start.

I am a very busy person, yet I never feel as if I am doing anything that will benefit my life. Days go by, weeks, months, and I think, "Maybe tomorrow something world-shaking will happen and my happiness will wake up from it's dormant state, roaring into a symphony of unwavering joy that will play on throughout the course of my beautiful path." Then I wake up the next morning, and it's all the same. I don't think that's living. The trouble is, I don't know what to accomplish in order for my living to begin.

I don't remember a time where I was truly blissful, but then again, I am a very cynical person. If I were to resolve to only look at the positives in life, then would my life begin? Still, there are little happy moments that I think back on, moments I had thought would kick off that symphony, only to be crushed with the evident naivety of my past hopes. This seems gloomy, doesn't it? Just a result of another reality crash.

There are so many things I desire to achieve, that in my heart I know will never be. At least, I think it's my heart talking. It's hard to tell on days like this. If I were to desire to achieve the "right" things, is that when my life would start? Or if I achieved the things I'm longing for?

All of my aspirations seem like such a farfetched child's dreams I'm still holding on to in hopes one day they'll come true—if I wish hard enough. Maybe the problem is I'm not working hard enough for them? If I began to work harder, is that when my life begins? Like I said, I'm a very busy person. Am I busy doing the wrong things? As an 18-year-old, I don't know the answer to that question. It seems all of the 18-year-olds around me have it pretty figured out, though.

It's as if I'm stuck in a continuous cycle of wanting better for myself, feeling a bit better, and then crashing down into despair, only to want better for myself even more. I never achieve better. I simply yearn for it. And maybe that's how everybody feels. Maybe I'm simply going through the cycles of humanity. If that's the case, however, I ask you: When does my life truly start? When does the cycle blossom into a symphony? When do the blessings outweigh the pain? When does it feel as if I've accomplished something worth living for? When does life truly start?