I'm not really living

Everything feels so dull, without colors. I feel that any hobby I had was temporary and no longer fun for me. I think: I still have a lot of time to do the things I want to do. But the anxiety of unconsciously asking myself "how do I see myself in 1, 5, 10 years?" It makes a light of restlessness appear, a desire to move; but the fear of failing and that nothing will be as satisfying as I would like is stronger, or at least it seems that way. I have never been able to write a letter to my 'self' from the future, because I see my future as cloudy, I have never seen an illusion powerful enough to want to tell her something (tell me something).

In summary:

I am afraid of failure, but I have not tried and therefore I have not truly failed.

I am afraid of the future, but my future is blank, it is empty.

I'm afraid of myself. I am a complex of anxious mirages, who fear to touch the light, but secretly long for it. They dream so hard that they don't live. I'm not really living.

I'm dreaming my whole life, in an annoying nightmare kind of way.