“Your future’s abroad,” she stated, after hearing for the gazillionth time my ever ambitious but ill achieved goals.
This made me chuckle and ponder as to why she said that. Does she truly believe that my life will begin (again) as soon as I leave? There’s a part of her that’ll be sad if I go, much like when my brother left a couple of weeks ago to start a job abroad. I’m starting to realise and succumb to certain fears of life, not the silly type of fears associated to eight-legged creatures, but that of being an old man and looking back on What Could Have Been. It’s a difficult notion leaving the prowess that is my mother; a singular entity wholly misunderstood by peers of blood who should be accepting. Sometimes, it feels as though I’m the only one to understand her, largely due to the fact that I feel or position myself as a bit of an outcast too. Somebody a little wild, a step away from what’s deemed ordinary.
This year feels so good, feels like a step forward, which is in complete contrast to last year and the self-destruction of which I put off stopping until tomorrow.
Yeah, the future seems bright. I have a chance to make myself and my mother proud, the latter of which is an achievable dream and on that’ll make life’s progression that little bit more white.