I have nine days left of this life, and then I leave. I’m not dying – it’s nothing so dramatic as that – but I’m moving away.
The keyboard that has been an emotional outlet so many times? I’m leaving it behind. And my books – my collection of hundreds of stories and beautiful words – they’re staying too.
My cases are heavy, and not heavy enough.
I am excited, though. University is one of those things: a fresh start, a clean slate, and a dive out of your comfort zone. It’s a chance to swim in new waters and be refreshed, a way to test everything you’ve learned so far in your first move towards ‘real life’. It’s a place to figure out what’s really important to you, and what you can let go.
It’s the waiting that’s hard. It’s watching your friends trickle away into their own adventures, while you’re left treading water in limbo. Waiting.
There’s time to do what I want; time to prepare and pack and catch up with people I can’t take with me. Everything is overshadowed by the looming presence of what is to come, of the inevitable. And I wait.
I am the spaces between the lines, I am floating and drifting in empty time.