Perhaps my subconscious is letting Inception cause an effect (as I’ve finally seen the film), but lately I’m having trouble distinguishing between my dreams and my reality. I can’t seem to grasp what has been said to me, what I’ve dreamt, or what I’ve hoped for. Perhaps I’ll just chose to believe the sweetest options, and keep quiet of the rest.
Yesterday marked the 7 year anniversary of my family’s departure from England, to begin our new life in Australia. Looking back, I left England as a child and have grown up while I’ve been in Australia, but I think my adult life will lead me astray. I recently made a pact with a “friend” that we’ll hold each other to our grand ideals and plans of big adventures. For a time, there was nothing worse than disappointing him. For once I desire that consequence, if it will give me guts.
I’ve mentioned I want to make the most of my time left in Australia, but it doesn’t mean that I know how or who I will spend my time with. My problem is that I over-analyse, so I’m going to take a seat back and let life take its course for once. I feel like I’m standing in the aeroplane waiting to jump out. The giddiness of my future seems uncontrollable; the fear is there not from authenticity but from standards. Perhaps we fear because we expect to be scared. Perhaps we’re scared because we let fear tangle within our minds.
In saying that, I am going skydiving on Sunday. And I just know that the plummet, the whoosh, the feeling we’re forever striving to feel, will grab my fear and say: “fuck you.”
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