On the path of life, I stop at a fork with three different paths. One is as pretty as heaven, one is dark and terrifying, one has a rainbow that slopes upward into the clouds.

I'm exhausted. I'm scared. And I'm full of vim and vigor.

The world expects me to grow up, and I actually have no control over it. I grow up, with all the memories that I treasure and hate. I grow up learning the treacherous truths about growing up. I grow up among other ambitious competitors that are ten times more brilliant than I am. I'm lost, determined, and don't know which road to choose.

Time doesn't wait for anyone. If anything, time is catching up to us, and soon it will drown us, like the ocean during a storm, like the tsunami over the city, like the sun far away from the Earth that will eventually explode into endless stars. I rush into decisions, like any other impetuous teenager does. I try and fail and try and fail, and they tell me that I'm not valuable enough, that I will eventually vanish and my presence won't even matter.

And so on a sunny night I live. On a blue day I live, whether for life or for death, whether for love or for rue. My youth, like a black rose, blossoms in its velvety magic, covered with charcoal. My youth, like a willow tree, droops over in languish, its trunk stands in an obnoxious way. My youth, like the scent of lilacs, drowned in a sea of poisonous gases and polluted cities.

Criticism, support, love, hate. In my own humble opinion, those are the things that shape a person as they grow up. One needs support whenever they fall, or else their wound will never stop bleeding. The fall will then scar them more significantly than anything else, and one will lose oneself after that fall, after picking up the broken pieces by themself. No one will ever be able to control a situation all on their own. No one will stay sane while not being loved, because humans are selfish, we want all the love and attention to ourselves. And when the selfishness goes out of hands, we're stuck in hateful love. The kind of love that rots a person and deteriorates their brain, their logic, and their perception of the world. And what's left is ignorance, stupidity, arrogance, and too much of self-importance.

As a youth, the question of who and how I am at the moment is outweighed by the other question that's constantly tossed around, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I want to be happy. I want to be content with whatever I have. I want to be proud of my accomplishments. I want to always be youthful. "No, what job."

At the youth of life, people put too much pressure on education and overlook their lifestyle. Somehow homework is prioritized over meals, and projects are prioritized over sleep, and no matter how efficiently one plans their day out, twenty-four hours are just not enough.

When faced with questions thrown by life, a youth stops and hesitates because society always expects that the inexperienced make the right choice, and the naive one be wise. But you see, even the wisest man makes mistakes, so why put so much weight on the tenderfeet? The question is yet to be resolved.

I'm sorry. Maybe this is not the beautifully luscious youth everyone wants to read about, but this is my youth. The youth that is mine and unique and characterized by my decisions, my dreams, and my goals. The youth that is trying to balance so many different aspects that it possesses, and actually endeavors to show the world why it's worth their faith. The youth that is only aiming for what it believes in, and for what it craves.