In the beginning…

I had to delete several old posts on this blog in order to start afresh. I do this too often – backtrack on old, failed projects, and wipe the slate clean so that I can feel that excitement of the beginning again.

I was always like this – I was one of those strange children who liked September, who liked the possibilities of change that a new school year heralded. I was usually disappointed, of course. Change tends to happen when you least expect it, either a bolt from the blue or a drastic action born of desperation. Real change for me tends to happen in the winding down of the year; in the dark of December, or the final few months of a school or college year when the evenings are drawing longer and everything has a misleading air of finality about it.

I have to hope that it will be the same this year. Starting a masters seemed like just the catalyst I needed, but it turned out not to be so, as usual. I don’t handle disappointment well and I am extremely impatient, so you can imagine how this went down. Now I find myself feeling trapped, lost. Lonely.

It’s always about cliff tops, for me. The freedom of leaping off; the terror of falling; the devastation when you hit the ground. The courage to make that leap in the faith that you will survive it. I feel now as though I am trying to jump; I have my arms raised to the sky, my face screwed up in resolution – but my feet are going nowhere. I move into an apartment, I start a new university course, I meet new people, I fall in love with the wrong man. And still I am standing at the edge of the cliff and nothing has changed. I am still me, and I don’t like it.

Maybe I need to create my own catalyst – that is what I tell myself now. I am trapped in my own life, but maybe if I recreate some of my old identity I won’t mind this so much. I am sick of passing through years with the expectation of reaching something better, soon. Maybe next year.

At the end of the day, this is what I have. So I might as well use it.

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