And she held me while I cried in her arms. 

She spoke of the times when she used to shed tears in the balcony

When my father was fast asleep

Because she wasn’t happy with her life.

And so she told me to make the right choice

Because it just only mattered that I was happy.

But I have to be perfect;

I have to be good enough.

She told me that that’s what she thought

And she asked me to look where she is right now. 

“Where do you see yourself in twenty years?”

She said that by the same genetics

I was highly unlikely to have enough willpower

To spend it on hours of studying.

“Do something you love.

Where do you see yourself in twenty years?”

And maybe the problem is

Not where I see myself in twenty years

It’s the fact that I don’t.