I realised this morning that I came to live in York exactly 8 years ago this week as a fresh faced student, ready to start her first term as a fully fledged “adult” away from home.
I don’t know where the time has gone. I still feel like the girl who sobbed inconsolably alone in her room, with every fibre of her being, as her parents drove away. Leaving her in a scary new place, surrounded by new people and new possibilities.
I swear I'm still 19, even now, it’s the body that doesn’t fit the mind.
Time is so slippery and the older I get, the more I feel the pressure to cling on to every moment that falls through the cracks.
I want to take every second up to my mouth and taste it, consume it, wrap it up as a securely bonded part of myself.
I suppose that's why I started writing all those years ago, because I wanted to solidify my life through capturing it.
Writing allows you to revisit yourself, you get to tumble experiences through your mind again as you extract memory and meaning.
I don't write as much as I used to. I'm too busy out there collecting experiences, or too lazy/scared to revisit past ones. It's hard to tell which.
So I've set myself a bit of a challenge - to write a new post on this blog every day in October. They can be about anything and of any length - the content doesn't really matter.
I just want to make a space again to revisit my life before it flies past without a second thought.
It’s too easy to be too preoccupied with the business of living.