Mingled fears

I’m sorting things out. I’m going through files and books, not simply book-by-book or file-by-file, but leaf-by-leaf. I can’t take it all with me. And some of it, I wouldn’t even want to take with me. School GCSE and A Level revision notes. Essays. Third year project rough draft. Some things are easy to get rid of. Some things I never realised still existed. Other things I’d forgotten existed. My juggling balls. Cue minutes lost as I remember how to juggle, one-handed.

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As composed by me, aged 9 years.

I am moving, in a few weeks’ time. The situation where I am has become too unsafe, too uncertain. My housemate has been attacked. When it comes to it, the courts will publish this address as the place where they did their raiding, to prevent a witch hunt for a wrong person with the same name as my housemate. They don’t seem to get the irony of that action. I am better off leaving as soon as I can.

Some things are harder to sort through. I’ve never gotten this far into sorting before. The last time I attempted it, it was because I planned to die. I soon gave up, hopelessly lost in stuff. This time, I am sorting because I want to be more alive.

The letters were hard. Years upon years of correspondence. Correspondence from people who bullied me when we were at school, pretend friends so I would help with homework; from people who disappeared completely upon getting married, never to be heard from again. And from true friends. There were more intimate letters, too. More than kisses, letters mingle souls. I loved writing letters. I loved receiving them even more.

Childhood things. Things I gave up on sorting in despair because there was too much, when I cleared my room in my parents’ house. Dolls. I never liked dolls. I didn’t see the point in dressing and re-dressing them ad infinitum, taking them on walks. They weren’t real. They were babies, not companions. Imaginary friends were better. You could get lost in whole other worlds with them.

Today is Easter Sunday. Time to remember that we are risen with Christ. Time for new life. I am trying to keep focused on looking ahead. Life ahead with supportive housemates, and friends, and good things, and without the sheer weight of the past, as I unburden, learn to live differently, at TC. Not a perfect life. There will still be hurdles and heartache. But I will be more able to cope. I won’t be afraid of myself anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

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