There are now 3 days left until the envelope with my 2nd year results arrives. The waiting is unbearable… I’m dreading opening that envelope… dreading that expectation will not have been met; that failure will be its contents
I have just spent the last few hours with a friend, and now my creativity is buzzing and swirling frantically like a bumblebee trying to escape a rolled up newspaper. Her company always seems to have that effect on me… like I start believing in my words again.
I now have coffee, roll-ups, paper and pen, and the mind set to is ready to confront the blank page or the first draft that needs tweaking. I write because the ideas are within me, because I am my writing, and no amount of self-doubt can destroy that part of me. I must listen to writing. I must live writing. And most importantly I must continue to write. Despite the obstacles of everyday life I must find the time for it to express itself…
…And that is exactly what I am going to do now. I am going to transform the first draft, fill the blankness with markings, and do the one thing that gives purpose to my existence.
My Tumblarity is -6 since yesterday… It’s just a number but it hurts. Something is being subtracted, something is being lost, and I wonder what it will eventually equal…
I am vanishing and I’m scared of disappearing
By this time next week it will all be over. The waiting will have ceased, the postman will no longer be anticipated, the envelope will be ripped rather than sealed, and I will be…
I don’t know what I’ll be? It depends upon the contents. It depends upon the percentage. It depends upon the calculated grade. I maybe slumped on the floor still sobbing from the arrival of the morning’s post… Or maybe, just maybe, there might be a light that shines into my life, and makes me believe and see once more.
I know I should not judge my achievements or my worth by an academic grade, but it is hard not to. This degree means the difference between now and later. It is my future and it is my proof… my evidence to myself that I am more than my past. I am more than the dangerous decisions I have made. I am more than the labels that I have acquired. And my life is more than even I expected it might be.
I just hope that my present and intense self-doubt is proved wrong
