My parents wanted me to become a lawyer or a doctor - “reliable”, “prestigious”, “future”, and I kept asking: “What if I don’t want to?” After school I didn’t apply anywhere. Not because of laziness - I just didn’t want to jump into the water without knowing if there was a bottom. I tried online courses on photography - I liked it, but I didn’t have the courage to show someone my pictures. I worked in a flower shop - I loved the smell of earth and roses, I loved how people smiled when they received bouquets, but I understood: this is not my calling, it’s just a job

I'm afraid that time is running out, but I'm even more afraid of living a life in which there will be no sincerity. I dream of finding something that will burn inside me - maybe it’s writing, maybe it’s filming, maybe it’s helping people just to listen to them. I want to one day board a train without a destination, go to a place where no one knows my name, where I can be anyone - an actress, a poet, a wanderer, just breathe different air. A diary helps me, in which I write at night, when the whole house is asleep, two friends help me, with whom we meet in a vintage cafe and talk about everything - about love, about fears, about films that shocked us. And, yes, I go to a psychologist - not because I’m “broken,” but because I want to understand what is hidden behind my silence, behind my “everything is fine.”

My name is Molly, I'm 18 years old - the age when everyone expects you to have already chosen the path: university, career, plan for ten years ahead, but I'm still standing at the crossroads, looking in different directions and don't know where to go, and it's probably normal to be lost until you stop pretending that everything is clear. At school, I was the one who is remembered when an answer is needed in literature or music, but not the one who is chosen as captain or presenter at a concert. I loved reading - especially books about girls who left small towns and found themselves somewhere under a strange sky. I dreamed about the same thing - but didn’t know where to start.

Now I walk a lot - especially in the evening, when the city becomes soft and the streetlights look like a movie. There are hundreds of voice notes on the phone: lines of poetry, ideas for short films, dreams out loud. Sometimes I record how the wind breathes outside the window. I listen to music that makes my chest ache - folk, synthpop, something in French that I don’t understand, but I feel. I am tormented by the question: why does someone find their business at the age of 15, and at 18 I still cannot answer what I want to do? What is “I” - profession, hobby, style? Or is it something deeper - a feeling that you've finally stopped pretending?

If you also feel like you are floating without shores, know that you are not alone. To be in search is not weakness, it is courage. Because you don't sell yourself for convenience. Perhaps I will find myself tomorrow, or maybe in years, but I am not standing still. I am Molly , 18 years old. I don't know who I am yet. But I can hear myself. And this is probably already the beginning.