Of course, it's all okay. Transitions and new beginnings are fables anyway. It is just the moments of wanting to flee - the crowd, the inexplicable notions running into each other and collapsing and the self - that make me want to pull the covers upto my chin and sleep in.
I cannot bear to think that the next nine months will not resolve everything. That the insecurities will not be dealt and put away on the shelf. I took it for granted that you just stop questioning yourself after a Master's degree. I cannot bear the thought of dealing with myself till am 85 - sitting on my rocking chair, knitting jumpers of self-doubts and undermined confidence.
You follow yourself everywhere. So where does the new beginning start?
I cant say no and I cannot speak up. Sentences interspersed with blah blah because the apparent coherent me upped it and left for Spain. Or maybe, she was never there.
London was where I came to do what I wanted to. When the hell did the ghosts of the obligatory past colonise the spaces for me?
The new me never shows up. Everyone around sheds their old skin effortlessly and metamorphises into the butterfly. I haven't even built my cocoon yet.
3 comments:
maybe you broke through your cocoon a long time back. when everyone else was still a caterpillar. or maybe you're not a butterfly at all. maybe you're a dolphin. or a chimpanzee.
Need I be worried?
are you who i think you are??
and no you needn't be worried anymore.
Post a Comment