Life at 19 is fun, with dreams, wishes and probably some crush for your english teacher, young and naive you call it hope.
At 20, you try to have yourself composed for life. To get the balance that never seems to come, only to find yourself unable to cope with the pressure from outside and within.
Those days you are dreamy. Always waiting to pounce on the next opportunity that comes your way. A little bit hopeful, you will trust your heart out to somebody, often they do as they wish. You have to inculcate the value of patience and perseverance probably taught at your in Sunday Schools.
After sometime, you give another shot, you find new heart, probably broken like you.
Depending on fate, maybe you go some separate ways, and before you cross over to 21, you will have had enough. You decided to hold the pieces, but not for long before those pieces get out of hand and before you realize, the pieces have found pleasure in other things and other people.
While focusing is not easy you learn to allow , never forcing things, you are okay with almost anything that happens, and rarely ask questions. In between, some pieces blossom like the rose flower and get attached, others just don’t change, while the rest crumble from the pressure.
At 22, you are almost always a runaway, running from the attachment of your pieces. Grumbling about what would have been or have been not. You probably want to get every girl you meet pregnant and then kangaroo, while at it you notice you got enough power to take charge of how you want life to be. But the power is flick, it cannot be channelled to what you want, so you gather the pieces, decide what you want and focus. That’s deciding, you still got the world to proof yourself.
At 23, you are a bit settled, you take charge, now a little more experienced, you promise to make what really matters to matter, you get back your balance, your focus your dreams. You promise to defend what you believe in. They don’t define you. You define you. The world starts seeing you as you are, or what you can do. You summon up your deamon, to go get it.
At 24, Your focus is to first extinguish poverty, hopefully for forever. See poor people believe in witchcraft, but poverty is the real witch. The real evil. It starves you of hope and vision. It diminishes you. Reduces you. Makes you define yourself based on what you cannot do, cannot be or cannot have. And you don’t like that, do you?