Sitting on my lounge room floor, teaching myself the riff from Tomorrow by Silverchair while Season 4 of ‘Friends’ plays on the TV in the background is a recipe for nostalgia. Throw in a bad fringe that I cut myself that does not flatter my face shape and a cantaloupe scented LipSmackers lip gloss and I’m all the way back in Year 9.

I’ve been feeling nostalgic a lot lately. As I inch towards entering the final year of my twenties (yes, soon my apltly named blog will become my ironically named blog) I’ve become very aware of things that I no longer have. I miss my best friend, who I used to spend almost every afternoon and weekend with and now hardly get to see because of our mutually busy lives. I miss dedicating hours a day to practicing singing, playing guitar and writing songs because I didn’t have a bunch of ‘more important’ things to get done. I miss having a long-term partner and a dog, both of whom I could rely on for the kind of unconditional love that recharges your soul when you’re completely flat. I miss living in a crazy share house with seven other people and scraping together enough money for a $12 pub meal on a Thursday night and still miraculously having enough change left over for a few rounds of shots because it’s Uni Night. Most of all, I miss the feeling that my life was only just beginning, and that it could and would take me anywhere I wanted.

When I decided to leave my ex, it was because I had become aware that I was unhappy. I felt like I was being swept along in life like an insect clinging to a leaf in a river, just resigned to the fact that there was no getting off until the current eventually bumped me into the sticks and debris on the bank, never thinking to actually open my wings and fly. When I eventually made the decision to get off that little floating leaf, it felt good. I spread my wings for a while and really flew, all the while aware of the foaming current below me and that one false move could send me to a watery death. Then my wings got tired. I grabbed onto the foliage of an overhanging tree for a breather, and before I knew it I had floated right back down into that river.

I don’t know what I want, and I am so full of fear that I don’t even know how to think about getting it. But I am tired of pretending to be happy.

And I need to get off this god damned leaf before it sweeps me right out into the ocean.

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