in the end it comes to this (deuxmoulins) wrote,
in the end it comes to this
deuxmoulins

this morning, walking to the library in crisp winter air with coffee and a savoury muffin, sipping and nibbling as i went... i couldn't stop smiling. not huge smiles like the kind you have when something amazing has happened and you can't hide it, but little ones like the kind you have when you think of all manner of little things about life that delight you but that you usually overlook. those kind.

i find out about the job today. it's strange that the end is so palpably close. i almost don't want to know. almost. i mean, if i were to get it, i would become a something. all of that is frighteningly identity-shaping. i am happy as a student, a friend, a flatmate right now. i don't feel like i need to be a ___________ [a hairdresser/a writer/a politician/a dancer etc]. of course i eventually want to be something. and maybe this is just me clinging onto shreds of my youth. and of course i eventually want to be this thing. if i get it [and i could easily not], i will start next year. so perhaps that's enough in between time for farewelling student days.

[Edit: 2:50pm]
i won't find out today anymore. a delay of a few days and i am filled up on caffeine with a too-fast heart. hushed conversations in toilets with hopeful girls fill the void, this unknowing emptiness. i fucking want to know now.
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