A Beautiful Kind of Uncertainty

23 years old… my whole life ahead of me. Beautiful, young, and lost. Such a short time in this world, yet so many thoughts, emotions, memories. Everything blends into one great uncertainty. A bittersweet past. Moments of carefree, almost childish foolishness mixed with heavy experiences, deep feelings, and extreme emotions. Do other people have it easier? Do they not feel so deeply? Do they not drown in their melancholic reflections?

There are moments of grounding, of joy in simple, earthly pleasures, and then comes detachment. Questioning the meaning of life, wondering what the future will bring. I often imagine myself at, say, 70 years old. What will I feel then? Acceptance of passing time? Fulfillment? Peace? Or maybe fear of the end? Or regret that I didn’t fully live my life? I can feel all of these scenarios. That feeling that everything that was meant to happen has already happened, that nothing is waiting for me anymore. And if there is reincarnation, then of course—another life. But the person I am now will never return. In a few generations, nothing will remain of her, not even someone’s memory. It seems sad and beautiful at the same time.

The future feels like such a strange construct. I remember when I was a child and sometimes wondered what it would be like when I grew up, how I would manage. It seemed so distant, like a fairy tale. I don’t feel like an adult. I feel like an alien trying to imitate people to blend into the crowd. Doing what others do so no one notices who I really am. I wish I could stop time, so I could grow up without rushing. Because I grew up quickly. I was in such a hurry. I moved out at 17 and started working. I didn’t even want to go to university, because I wanted to be an adult and work, not sit in a classroom. I wanted to have children and a husband by 25 at the latest. I felt like I knew what I wanted—to live in nature, to have a loving family, a beautiful home… to live simply and peacefully.

Now I don’t know what I want anymore. I was in a relationship for four years. He left me in December. I thought he was my future husband, that we would grow old together. I have never felt such emotional pain—not even when my father died by suicide when I was 13.

I felt so safe in that relationship. Of course, there were difficult moments and things I didn’t like. But I always felt certainty, immense love, and a deep bond. Now I think I’m going through some kind of identity crisis. After the breakup, I turned to spirituality and lost interest in the material world and everyday matters. I was searching for meaning, for answers, for signs. But eventually, I got tired of it.

Two months after the breakup, I downloaded a dating app. I talked to a few guys. I met one of them. We’ve been seeing each other for two months now, and technically we’re in a relationship. But I feel really strange. It happened so easily—we clicked right away. It’s hard to believe that after just one day on that app, I found someone, especially while I was such a mess for those two months… It helped me a lot, because I didn’t feel that loneliness. But maybe it was too soon, because I still sometimes cry and miss my ex. It’s not the same. It makes me sad that it will never come back.

I’m grateful, because I felt terrible before—I didn’t want to live. And now, especially with spring coming and the sun coming out, I often feel joy and inspiration. But those nostalgic thoughts don’t always leave me alone. And I feel like I experience a strange kind of pleasure in them. Sometimes I like to sink into them. But in this new relationship, I don’t feel that same connection… It seems to me that he doesn’t understand how deeply I experience everything, that he can’t appreciate that depth. I’m such a hopeless romantic, and he’s an analyst.

I feel like I need someone I can talk to on that level, someone who is also lost and sensitive. But I don’t have such a person, not even a friend like that. My ex was like that, and so was his friend. We often met as a group of three and talked all night long. That will never come back. I don’t know… I hope that one day I’ll feel that kind of understanding and connection with someone again. But for now, I just wanted to share this with anyone. I don’t need advice—I just didn’t know where to write it, and this was the only place that came to mind. I write a lot in my journal every day, but it’s not the same. Because no one will read it.

Sorry for such a long entry.

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A Beautiful Kind of Uncertainty