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.   

The Illusion of More

Wednesday 22nd January 2020

She walks through the door, eyes hopeful as she surveys the room. Her eyes, immediately lose their hope and turn into dark pits of disappointment. The room is cluttered and dirty. She expected more, nothing extraordinary, but more than this. The photographs had made it look as though it was more, an illusion of all the things she wanted. The bed frame, which is the centre piece of the entire room, takes up too much space. The window, however, held up to be exactly as she had wanted and imagined it to be. Not enough to hold her interest, but perfectly right. On on side of the bed, she spots a small desk which is in use by the current tenant, the other side of the bed is the ‘kitchen’. The door to the bottom of the bed leads down to a small bathroom – shower and toilet contained within. The hard stone steps leading down to it is off-putting.

“How much?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to check back at the office and then email you.”

Never mind.

Moving on.