One Night...

In the middle of November halfway through the Island that holds England and Scotland together lies a small city called Durham hosting people from around the country treating them with beautiful lights. Lumiere they call it, created a magical atmosphere making me feel like I stepped out from my lecture hall straight into the pages of Alice in Wonderland. 

Lately, I have a lot to be thankful for. For parents that understand and willingly put in more hours to see their children be happy. For a sister that knows me skin and bones right down to the core, sometimes even better than I do. For a brother who's growing taller than I am and who at the age of 14 still considers me cool enough to leave at least a sentence or two. I am thankful for my family who knows me at my worst but still stick by me holding my hand tightly shielding me away from reality.

I am thankful for finally feeling like I have found people who understand me, for being in a state of friendship that I enjoy rather than a place. I am thankful for the opportunities that I have and the magic I have felt. 

A lot of times my gratefulness slip by because I tend to forge ahead without thinking about what I already have in my side pockets. I forget the gems that I have collected as they are left ignored and neglected. 

I am almost at the halfway point of my second year and the pressure is truly beginning to reach its boiling point. I can feel my nerves breaking one strand at a time as I continuously distort my sleeping pattern in a manner that is way outside a healthy recommendation forming eye bags that are starting to look permanent. As much as I tell myself I can't do this, deep down there's a little whisper pushing me on telling me that I can, and I will.

I found myself chasing the bus once again earlier today. Is it a sin to not want to spend extra time in the cold wind waiting for the bus? My walking shoes would undoubtedly die down if I continue this bad habit if mine. The hour long ride provided me much time to reminiscence about easier times and after spending a great evening at a friend's house, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of homesickness as I look out the foggy dark night.

I wish I can be constantly caught up in the magical atmosphere that Lumiere brought upon Durham, like a sheer veil gently folding all the people under its influence intoxicating us with sweet lies and silent prayers. I wish I didn't know the realities of the world and that it doesn't stare me in the eye while I figure out what's next. I wish I can just be home sitting on my infamous couch strumming the guitar with good old friends who have seen me through all my awkward stages and know nothing but the worst of me, and still continue to sing along with me. I miss love, in its truest and simplest form.