It is a release. A single breath of air which previously choked and tore at your lungs suddenly is released, a gentle explosion of energy which tugs and drives and manoeuvres you into a state of calmly ecstatic freedom, wildness, saturnalia.
I look back at my first year of University, at the seven months and one day of writing this blog, and I think, where did all that time go? All those experiences, those moments of fear, intense pressure, anxiety, frustration, just dissipated, evaporated into a vacantly distant dream that is so intangible, I wonder if it ever even seeped into my subconscious. Yet, simultaneously, i feel useless, used up, disused. I’ve experienced death this year. Failure, fatigue, joy, friendship, laughter. I’m sitting in a converted attic whilst the rain that should’ve fallen in April is pelting a dormer window, trying desperately to alleviate this tiny island from the drought which is ‘ravaging’ its parched soil, and i’m writing. Tapping black keys against a silver board whilst Kurt Elling seduces my aural faculties, and I dip into a state of quasi-peaceful anxiety.
Because we have to do it all over again. We have to confront those barriers that seemed so high, and which we can no longer even remember. We have to remember to keep living. Keep doing things. Without the pressure of essays, of tea cups, of early morning outings and posting flapjacks into pidgeon holes, we have to regain a purpose, a reason for living and being. Whilst preparing ourselves for the next term.
So many events flicker before our retinas. Events of note which should be transcribed immediately – yet I miss the moment and it escapes me completely.
To find a purpose for living, once the elixir of a summer Saturnalia consumes its last dregs, devours its final moments of ecstatic freedom, and I’m left bereft, and purposeless.
Play on Kurt.