The Calm Before the Storm

It is a severe understatement to say that I am nervous about studying abroad.

I have a hundred questions on my mind, but, most of all, I am so excited. I'm awaiting hear back whether or not I've been accepted for the financial aid or something like that. It's a terrifying and wonderful thing to think of going to another country.

On another note, this week is a particularly painful one.

Four years ago this Sunday, my best friend died.

I can't help but remember her at this time of year. I swear some days that I'd be okay with the month of February dropping off of the calendar altogether.

I miss Jessie. She was such a warm and loving person. It is so unfair that she's gone.

I want to write more on the subject, but maybe now isn't the time.

I'm late on writing this post, but it's only 12:18 am, Saturday. I think I'll let myself slide on this one. I've felt really stuck lately. There's this strange need to do absolutely nothing that keeps trying to envelope my mind. I just want to curl up in my bed and do nothing, which would be disastrous.

I've avoided sending myself into a full-blown meltdown about my lack of interest in life. I just keep remembering to breathe deeply.

"This too shall pass"

I want to get it tattooed on my body. Well, that and one hundred other things. I want a tattoo in England. I want words from Sylvia Plath, J.K. Rowling, a mermaid and an astronaut, and a faceless pocket watch.

I want to paint again. I can feel this overflow of creative energy. Once the world quiets, my mind awakens. Which is strange, because I'm typically an early morning writer. Who needs sleep? Carpe Noctem!

Ahhhhh. There's the feeling I was looking for. The glow. I feel like I can breathe again, knowing that I'm creating something.

"That's why you're a writer." "This isn't permanent." "You go hard everyday, give yourself some time to rest." "Try to forget English, try to learn the language like a child." "it's always ourselves we find in the sea."

I've received some very good advice in the last week.

I'm very thankful for the people in my life. They keep me going when the storm dumps down it's furious rain and thunder and lightning. I just have to remember the magic of words. I just have to breathe. I just have to move.

I've had a lot of writing due this week and I've noticed my need for poetry slipping into it. It's such a pleasing thing to see these lines. To feel their crisp cut lines and balance in my mind. e.e. cummings has kept me in good company this week. It's time to read again. It's time to write again. It's time to live again.

This is messy writing. I'm okay with that. I might come back and edit this later. I might not.