I'll Keep My Eyes on the Prize

BFF smacked me right across the ego and said that my leaving should be a happy and exciting thing. Considering how I made a pact with life not too long ago to "get me to London or else"... my leaving should at the very least, be a satisfying outcome. So I was forced, rather painfully, to reflect on my perpetual expression of doom.

I think it is the weight of unfinished business that I find difficult to bear. An absence counted in years doesn't make the heart grow fonder, I'm sure, and the taut strings of threadbare relations threaten now more than ever.

Packing brings the uneasy decision of defining this trip as a "stay" or "live" in London. The only certain detail of this trip is that I will be at least 22 when I return. It is a large chasm, widened further by the vast potential promised by these prime years of my life. And all the things I've wanted to do here, with the people here, are starting to call out to me. It kills me that the other thing that grows more certain is that I'm running out of time. And opportunities.

I looked at my dad this morning and realised he was old. I've walked alongside him for the last 19 years, but I don't know how he got to this greying stage, with a crook in his back and an ache in his leg. Over the next three years, I wonder how much I'll notice with my occassional appearances in the form of video calls and bills.

Perhaps now I am atoning for the largely selfish reason of broadening the mind I used to apply overseas - or maybe this is the exact lesson I was craving for: a good jolt to broaden my mind.

But I am not all sad. This leaving is the price for the reality of my romantic dream. I have paid my dues, and now, I'll keep my eyes on the prize.