2015 · 2015/10 · NaJoWriMo · NaJoWriMo 2015/10

NaJoWriMo 05/10/2015: Ten Burning Questions

  1. What would it feel like to go to sleep in the arms of another? To not worry about the smearing of my not quite fully washed off mascara under my eyes. To not care that my heels are rougher than I’d like them. To feel a solid warmth, a warm solidness, by my side, all night. To wake up and snuggle closer, to sleep in, to wake up wrinkled, sore and smiley. To stay in bed until the bedsheets turn against us.

  2. Where is the next chapter of my life taking me? I imagine sitting in an office, shuffling files, trying to get Excel into my head, the phone growing to my ears. I imagine getting lost in statistics, filling my expensive notebooks with ideas and future plans, one question leading to another. I imagine working with similar nutcases as I am now, maybe, hopefully, in a different capacity. I imagine adding the elusive D and r in front of my name in a couple of years’ time. Somewhere, I would have hoped for a mini me…

  3. When is it time to grow up, to take control, to stop being trampled on? I know, each time it happens, a voice in my head nudges me and says, you know, this is the part where you should stand up for yourself… When you assert yourself, when you stop being a push over, when you carve yourself a space. Wish I would listen.

  4. Who is it going to be?

  5. Why has it / does it take so damn long?

  6. How does it feel not to constantly undermine me?

  7. What is a girl to do with a heart that just want to love? To love someone unconditionally, irrationally, inexplicably, unending, unyielding, unquestioning. To be allowed to live for another, knowing that the other will live for her, making it all right. A fragile balance, a tight rope act, a steady arm and certain steps.

  8. Where is home? I know it’s not where I am… and it’s not where parts of my family are. It is not over there, or up there, or back there either… I imagine it’s any four walls that encompass the right persons… But I have yet to find that mixture. I thought, think, hope, that some ingredients are stashed away in a basement. But maybe I should look at the attic.

  9. When will I ever feel content, relaxed, happy? There has always been a drive, a purpose, and aim, a flag to post, a mountain to tackle, an ocean to cross. The dread of purposelessness fills me with trepidation, and panic tries to climb through the window, seeping in through the cracks of my brick armour. I play the charade, the mask in place, that I can do this, that uncertainty doesn’t faze me, that I can wing it. At the same time, various lists appear and I try ticking one thing after the other, just to feel accomplished. There’s a method in my madness of throwing away nothing.

  10. Who am I going to become?
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