My name is Roxy and I live in a small town where every day is the same, but I dream of the big world. I'm eighteen, and at this age I feel hungry for real adventures. My days are spent at school, where I teach Psychology, but everywhere I see only ghostly horizons that beckon. I write poetry, filling my notebooks with dreams of distant lands and people I have never met. Every evening, sitting on the roof of a house with a magazine, I watch the sunset, trying to find the meaning of life in its colors. City roads seem narrow to me, and fate seems like a cruel game where I am only part of a large mechanism. But among all these gray nuances, I find friends with whom I share smiles and secrets. We discuss dreams about the future, we strive for freedom outside our little world. In my heart I know: if not now, then when? I want to see the world, experience feelings that will fill me with new light.
I love the feeling of freedom when the wind blows through my hair and the sun lightly touches my skin. At such moments I feel alive, as if the world has opened up before me, ready to offer its secrets. I love walking along the streets of my city, where every house keeps its own history, and every tree seems like an old friend.
My friends and I often gather in the park, laughter fills the air, a
I don't like it when people judge by appearance. Sometimes I see how someone pays attention only to clothes or hairstyle, without noticing that behind this shell hides the depth and richness of the inner world. Unfortunately, this has become the norm in our society. I don't like it because I experience bias myself.
Another thing that worries me is the falseness in communication. I'm tired of fa
