Starting Over

I'm lying in bed, staring at the orange red glow hitting the beam on the ceiling emitted from my salt lamp. The idea of sleep is appealing, in preparation for the busy day to come, yet sleep evades me like an illusive shadow and the heat of this endless summer night continues to reign, relentless and unforgiving, in my hotbox of a bedroom. An occasional stream of cool air beckons from the gap in my curtains, tantalising and teasing as if to say: "We could offer you relief or we might not. It's fun to keep you guessing." As I lie in bed, left vulnerable to my worries and fears, I am left with no choice but to confront my swirling thoughts one by one. A thought floats by seperate from the rest and I smile: "That's right. I don't have to do this on my own..."

Tomorrow is the first day of a new semester and the day that I go back to university to start a brand new degree. When I was younger, adult life seemed like everything was so much better, proper, easier in the sense of knowing what to do in life. It's not. Those pesky butterflies still visit your ema and anxious thoughts like: "Will my classmates like me?" & "Will I be able to make any friends?", are still valid.

My computer is very very broken and I cannot even comprehend how I'll be able to make it through the semester without one. (I'm writing this on my phone).

And it seems with those three questions my spell of sleeplessness has been broken. My head longs for the embrace of my pillow and my fingers feel heavy. 

Time for sleep and maybe I'll write some more tomorrow. 

Till next time. 

Maisy