DARKNESS MY OLD FRIEND

In the past I have often had suspicions that I may have been allergic to change. Just the other day I found myself on my lonesome, slung against the chilled window of the 3:15pm train to the city, my sleepy eyes were blurred from the timid sun beaming in. With nothing but my busy mind to occupy me; I began to be overwhelmed by the amount of pending amendments that life is tossing my way. And as doubts began to kick in, I found myself asking questions I’m sure many others have asked themselves before; ‘What am I doing all this for?’ and ‘Will I fail?’ Goosebumps appeared on my anxious skin, as I gripped my hands tightly and decided to quit neglecting change and instead welcome it with two confident and open arms before these beautiful opportunities pass me by and ultimately grow to be ‘what if’s’ that will only float meaninglessly in my head. To help calm my uncertainties I revisited a memory of when I had conquered the evil and scary world of uncertainty and self doubt. It made me realise that change was in fact an old friend of mine. 

My friend change and I share a fond memory together. Having made the decision that travelling would help cure my broken heart after losing my father. I packed my bags and dove into the unknown; far far away from my loved ones who had nurtured and comforted me throughout my loss. Friendless and unsure, I soon found myself aching for home. My first few mornings were spent waking up amongst a frosty bed constantly making phone calls unfolding stories of my loneliness. Until one dear morning I woke up to the view of white pristine speckles falling out my window. It was the first time I had seen snowfall. And just like that, it also became the very first time in days I was able to stare at change straight in the eye and smile. As my passport became occupied by vibrant colours, new friends grew in numbers; friends who were other travelers whom I drank wine with and shared stories of what home also meant to them. Since then, it has been impossible for me to shake off my new found wanderlust. Thanks to change.

I remember the days where the future seemed like it was something that was millions of miles away from me, something that I needed not to worry about for some time to come. But change takes place and life sinks in and before you know it you are strained to find a fine line somewhere in between what it is you love to do and what it is that you have to do to earn your bread and butter.  Some time ago I gained the courage to write down on a piece of paper what it is I wanted to be and how I was going to get there. I aimed selfishly to be one of those rare few beings that get to do what they love to do for a living.  I figured some get there by luck, but I didn’t want to wait around to see if I was going to be one them. And so I dove into the sea of change. Head first. Since then change has provided me many sleepless nights where I craved for play rather than work and longed for luck rather than toil. But if I have learned anything, it is that change can be for the better. That visiting the dark hole of rejections and failures only makes achievements taste better. It can bring you that one step closer to some dreams you once labeled as unachievable. That if you dared to look at your future with a set of confident and optimistic eyes, life can sparkle.