Waiting

Nine days.

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.

Waiting.

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.

Nine days.

I’m waiting.

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Invictus

For those of you who don’t know, I spent the last two weeks in South Africa! It was an amazing experience, and a big part of this was learning about some of the history of the country. We visited the Apartheid Museum in Johannesburg, and one thing that really stood out to me was a¬†quote from the William Ernest Henley poem that Nelson Mandela read during his jail time.

It’s a testament to the power of language; words strengthen the spirit. Here’s an excerpt of the famous poem:

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.