I've been working a lot – not shown above! – and whilst I don't think one should work all hours, I'm happy. I'm happy in what I do, who I do it with, who I do it for, and what I'm achieving. I'm happy and also tired. And tired gets me all nostalgic.
Many moons ago I thought I had a split personality attached to my writing. Turns out that is pretty common; it's actually a thing. You're not the same in every language you speak because each of those languages has its own set of emotions and learning to you, or something to that effect. This was a pretty cool thing to find out because it explains my non-split-personality after all.
Whilst I 'feel' the exact same – I am the me I know after all (and not a glorious version of myself!) – and don't seem to notice much difference with the chatting side of things, in the writing I could really tell the difference. Until now.
Partly because I'm tired, partly because life is not fair, I've been feeling like I need to write away my emotions so I can make sense of life. Ah, to know oneself and what heals us.
A former colleague of mine, a sweet girl in the prime of her youth (not to mention her life), has been diagnosed with incurable cancer. She wrote a blog post about it on Macmillan; an account of the last couple of months for her and her family which was as pragmatic as it was poignant. And I was left feeling void whilst knowing damn well that this emptiness I'm feeling is nothing compared to what she's feeling.
So I did what I do best when the floor gets swept away from under my feet – I wrote about nothing and stared at those words that said nothing and let them hug me. But they were not enough, not this time. I would need to write myself a full blanket of words to feel warm inside right now. Yet I don't know how – how to make these words more than the nothing that they are today? For words are not enough, not now, not when nothing you say can make life better, if better were to mean good.
As I emailed her my love and pragmatic thoughts on being in Oxford and the power of medical research – for I work with people who save lives – the only warmth I felt came from the tears running freely, for her, her family, and all the nostalgia I carry inside.