The Freedom of Truth

You would think I’d have had enough. All of the assignments, the lectures, the stress. Yet, I have spent all day waiting for 5pm. Not for the rest or the break away from work, but for writing.

The relief of knowing I no longer have restrictions placed on my writing to be academic, to be reflective. I can write to enjoy it, write to unwind. The joy of it, the satisfaction of the words coming together and all of it making sense in the end… I have missed it.

Life has taken over and it has taken ‘writing for pleasure’ away from me. Instead, all I have had is writing to meet the domains, to tick boxes on that ever-growing list of things that University ask of us.

I have missed this. I have missed my laptop, missed choosing the font that I want and not the font that University insists we use. All of the little things that make up the bigger ones.

I have missed the freedom of my own truth, my own words, my own self.

I welcome writing back into my life with open arms.

Until the next time.   

What Was Already Known

The music is loud and the crowd even louder. Voices everywhere, an irritating mumble of everyone’s words blending into one monotone sound and yet she still hears every single word as if they were surrounded by silence.

            “Who would have ever thought it!”

The conversation had been a positive one, one where she had bragged and taken credit for her achievements and how far she has come. The conversation, was worth more than that response. She was worth more than that response. Those eyes in front of her, so full of jealousy and that bitter smirk only proved to cement what she already knew – ‘I don’t want her around me’.

 

Yeah

Blondie’s voice rises above the nearby chatter, “Just lick it off.”

She tilts her head, smiles shyly, “I’d rather just wash my hands, thanks.”

The table of people watches her go with amused, frustrated smiles on their faces.

“Some people just don’t like it. It’s like an OCD kind of thing… Is she OCD?” Asks the brunette.

“She’s never liked it.”

Heads turn sharply to where the voice drifted over from. The woman continues on, collecting their empty glasses as she speaks, “As a kid, she couldn’t stand it. The slightest thing on her fingers and she had to be taken to wash her hands. Everything would have to stop until her hands were clean… like she couldn’t focus on anything other than that.”

The elder speaks, “I didn’t realise you’d known her that long… or that you knew her at all, really…”

A smile, small and troubled flashes briefly before she leaves with the empties, a quiet, “Yeah” can only just be heard as she turns her back.

Hands now clean, she makes her way back to her chair, noticing everyone at the table is eyeing her.

The brunette asks, “Didn’t realise you knew Caroline..?”

She looks up, making brief eye contact. Her previous smile turning sad and troubled, “Yeah.”

 

~JustMe~