So i’ve been away for a while. a holiday, perhaps. new things, old things, heartbreaking things.
But as I sit here, on the woven coloured rug that I’m inexplicably fond of and grow more so every day – I realise that change is good. It’s good. Great, even. Sure, things will hurt, and I’ll cry and tear the figurative hangings off the figurative four-poster, but I’m human. Hurt and pain are inevitable things in life. And I don’t say that as though I’m resigned to it. There’s a big difference between resignation and acceptance; in my case, it is most definitely the latter.
I have a job now. It’s nothing fancy, it’s nothing career-propelling, but it’s a job nonetheless. Something to fill those aimless hours that I used to spend wandering the ever-strange recesses of my thoughts. And I enjoy it, I really do. It’s nice to be surrounded by lovely people, engage with friendly customers who don’t mind if my left hand shakes when I carry things for them or if I take a little longer to do things because I’m still learning on the job. (Of course, it helps that I get paid and I can finally stop fretting about paying university living fees. But that doesn’t really need to be mentioned.) My colleagues are a godsend, and not one of them seems to think any less of me for being a little less physically able than they are.
That, and I’m about to head into my last year of my undergraduate degree. Is it frightening? Yes. Is it exhilarating? Of course. Do I think I’ll fail it? Possibly.
Will I fail it?
Not a bloody chance.