It’s of those days when I’m consumed with longing for the good old times. I feel the summer slipping through my fingers and I’m panicked at the thought of another long winter in my bedroom. I want to be able to casually leave my house and go for a walk with someone and talk and laugh. I want to be able to go on a road trip, wind up floating down a river, wake up to coffee and good food, feeling relaxed and energised.
I want to reach back in time to that 25 year old and warn her of what is to come… tell her to treasure every animated conversation, every effortless moment and carefree movement. Tell her to neglect nothing: friends, sleep, openly giving love. I want to tell her that she has no idea just how short our time is and she can’t waste one more second being an over-analytical perfectionist or self-conscious and guarded or a workaholic.
To all of my dear friends: thank you so much for the good times. Each one is a beautiful, glimmering little gemstone that I take out of my bag of memories and hold lovingly, careful not to wear it down and dull its brilliance.