Baskadia

I’m almost 30, and I still feel lost. Not in a dramatic, falling-apart way—but in a quiet, heavy way that follows me through everyday routines. I wake up, do what needs to be done, and wonder when life is supposed to start feeling like more than just getting through the day.

Some days it feels like I’m barely living, just surviving on autopilot. Watching others move forward makes me question my pace, my choices, and whether I missed some invisible deadline everyone else seemed to catch. It’s exhausting carrying expectations that don’t fit anymore.

Still, I’m here. Trying to be honest with myself, even when it’s uncomfortable. Maybe being lost doesn’t mean I’m failing—maybe it means I’m standing at the beginning of something I haven’t named yet.