100 Stories / Temporary4.3.16
Lately I’ve been struggling with the concept of things being temporary. Temporary places, temporary feelings, temporary moments. I think it’s quite an unhealthy thing to overthink. The thing with deciding to move abroad for a year was that I’d already set myself a time ‘limit’ or ‘target’ from the very start. Loose promises and haphazard dates carelessly slung around as I even more haphazardly zipped bags, locked suitcases and flounced to my departure gate. “It’s okay, it’ll only be for a year,” turned to “don’t do that, this is only for a year”. Metaphorical expiration dates were placed on almost everything. I’d find myself scrolling through my lists of places to see, things to eat and people to see, worrying that I simply wouldn’t have time before time ran out.
Just a moment ago, I found myself doing that again. “I must try this place before time runs out,” before remembering that right now, right before, and for always, I have as much time as I give myself. I suppose I rush myself to do everything all at once and immediately, it’s that millennial mindset of having it all, or something like that.
Somewhere around October, I realised that I have no security in anything much except from in my friends and family. Temporary feelings, of sadness, relief, excitement, adoration, longing and others, that can change in the blink of an eye at the turn of another’s hand. Temporary moments, knowing that you’ll never experience the very present in the exact manner again. Temporary phenomena are the ideal, right? Never getting bored of your surroundings because they change all the time, right? As much as I adore travelling and seeing beautiful new horizons and knowing that things can and will change and get better, I realised that the idea of things being temporary is scary and confusing and full of hope and promise and futures and relief.
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- 2. The Beauty of Coffee Houses
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