Twenty-five.

Where are you?

Here I am, in the midst of my twenties, quarter –life crisis, they said.
In the midst of everything, thinking to leave out to live, or to live in for life, the better, they said.
Not knowing what to pursue, career, life, or even nothing.
I can barely see my future, yet I’m still holding on, to what exactly?
The cloudy mornings, or the rainy evening, who else can forecast, if it is not myself.

Where are you?
Here I am, exactly right behind you. Not knowing if I’m hiding or what else, if that matters.
Setting my ears into every word you say, about living out loud. Yes, I can hear you, loud and clear
Not knowing who else I should listen to, about my stupid life, which you always say it’s mine
I’m looking forward for a better future, which never will be about you, even an inch of it.
But yet, I am still here, tuning into your words.

Where are you?
Here I am, in the midst of my parents carefully hugging me.
Getting lost in the thought of leaving them for making my own life, or staying home for them.
Not knowing which path should I choose, for myself or for them, exactly?
They said you always have a home here, anytime, and they said you should make it outside
Could I make it outside without leaving home?

Where are you?
Exactly right here, in front of you, bending my knees, looking up to you.
Making a face you can’t ever resist, holding a hand I will never lose, and a handful of love we share.
I am ready, aren’t I? Have I lived my life outwardly, giving all of me to them before leaving with you?
Have I made it outside as my parents always say, or have I found a home in you?

Here I am, standing perfectly still.
I am ready to live out, and soon to live in.
I am ready to listen to myself.
I am ready to make it outside to make it home
To you.