I am an island. An island made up of a million tiny particles of sand, particles that represent the experiences I’ve had in my life. I used to know all the particles intimately. I could recount how each one landed on my shore. But now it seems like there are too many particles to reference and the significance of each one has become diluted. I question whether I feel like myself or someone who has been swept up by the current of life and is now haphazardly floating about.
This is probably typical of a 25 year old (also typical of a 16 year old; perhaps 25 is the new 16?). I suppose the particles will slowly float down from the whirlwind and land upon my head, reminding me where I’ve been and where I should go. And perhaps the winds of change will blow me from my island, towards new adventures which lay waiting.
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