I feel it—
that quiet, creeping fear
in the corners of comfort.
Fear of losing the warmth of home,
the steady presence of my parents,
the easy laughter of being with my people
in the way things used to be.

I used to dream of eighteen—
freedom like fire,
nights humming with possibility,
suitcases and skylines,
living loudly
without permission.

But now that I’m here,
freedom feels fragile,
and the dreams are quieter
than the fear that found me.

I just turned eighteen—
and somehow,
the whole world shifted with me.