Blank World

I know it's late on a school night, and I'm tired, but I can't help being introspective. I can't help but to look at the cache of memories I have of life, of experiences ... of everything.

What exactly have I done with my life? What have I experienced? What can I show at the end of my life that I have lived? What is missing?

I'm a girl who has never ran through a sprinkler or screamed speeding through a slip-and-slide. I have never rode a bike through a trail (hey, I barely remember how to ride a bike!), never swam in a lake, river ocean or any other body of water that doesn't contain chlorine (yeah, and I barely remember how to swim as well), never had a "real" pet (ok, I had a snail and 13 mice, and that's another story for another time). I have never participated in organized sports. I have only rode a horse once -- for 3 minutes while the horse stood still. I have never sat and watch the sunrise, and neither have I watched the sunset over the horizon.

(Try me. I am sure you can come up with more.)

But, hell, did I read! I read and learned, read and learned, read and learned. But still, here I am, without much of a childhood to speak of, with no stories to tell, with still so many blanks waiting to be filled with stuff that I don't know about before my end.

How much time do I have left?

Show me the world ....

Show me the world now before I have to go.