The Trouble With Transience
There is something reassuring in the fact that my hair still flicks to the right when untouched by heat appliances, just as it did when I was thirteen.
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I realised this in the bathroom of a bar, a bizarre Alice In Wonderland themed place in which I sipped cocktails from conical flasks, one that I had frequented with my best friend; a woman who knew me all those years ago. Perhaps it was the decor, or the company, or the magical atmosphere in which we found ourselves, but it tipped me into a rabbit hole of memories.
So much seems to change these days. Friends, countries, carpets in my childhood home: the list of items that become transient seems to grow and grow. It is my fault or, if we remove the blame, it is my choice based on the lifestyle I have thrown myself into, and yet I crave the stability that I see in others. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, it is after all only a year until I graduate and move into the big wide world where life choices could result in me being (gasp) in the same place for more months than I can count on two hands. The last time that happened I was a dark brunette who could barely drink legally.
I'm not complaining. Each new adventure brings memories and moments with new friends and old, but in being home, and by home I mean England, I feel the need to fight through the curiously unstable emotions that must I always must work through whenever I transition. Because no matter how much excitement I feel for the next step, there is a lingering grief for the loss of the old, and this mix of emotion confuses me. It bubbles away until it erupts in anxiety, crying, and/or confused irritation. The only way I can unravel this is how I work through everything: to write.
There are costs to every choice, and mine become clearest in these moment. I spent a wonderful day and night in Oxford with my best friend, a place rooted in history where things can remain unchanged for hundreds of years. That's not how I would like my life to be, but sometimes we all need an anchor and last night she was mine.
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So if you've had to help me through an outburst, thank you, and if you've ever felt the same way please tell me. I find one of the positives of publishing my rambling thoughts on the internet is that I can find people who have felt the same, and as someone who often fights loneliness that is a gift that I don't want to give up.