Last weekend we traveled up into the hills for a Birthday lunch to celebrate my lovely friend, Luce. It rained and poured the whole way there, and while we ate, and when we came home completely fatigued from good food (the best kind of fatigue.) The rest of the week, it continued to rain and my mood dampened. Decisions to be made were looming and everything felt darker than it really was. In the midst of my notorious sleeplessness, I woke one night and wrote and wrote and wrote. I figured that if i didn't have the ability to look forward clearly, I would look back with clarity. I wrote all about what has been and what is now. At the end of it all, I could see how effortlessly one decision lead to the next and the calming affirmation that even through the chaos, it all turned out okay. In the middle of the night, it had me thinking, it will again. It ain't all bad, no it ain't all bad at all. There has been so much good, and I'll try and try to remember this. Below is the writing from the middle of the night.
A letter to yourself, five years ago.
You're fourteen. Your parents are separating for the final time and there is a lot of sadness for a long while. You move into a new house, with a big room and lots of space but it won't ever feel quite like home. In the same year, you'll work your first job and hate it passionately. Give it three months and you'll quit, and you'll start a job you'll spend the rest of your life missing. It's a bakery job with your friends and a boss who makes work not feel like work. He'll teach you about baking goods, and give you other life tips. You'll value it all. (Thanks Sean.) The following year you ask Mum for a camera. You want to start trying to take photos like the ones you see on the pretty blogs that take your mind off things. The music and the pictures and the lives painted prettily, leave you wanting to create the same. So you start, you take photos everyday, all the time and post them to a place you thought nobody was viewing. Someone hires you to take photos for them and you don't understand, you charge them nothing. It happens again. And then again. You meet with agencies and fashion labels, and attend all of the meetings wearing your school uniform in between free breaks. For a little while you work for an agency, and find yourself feeling young and naive and used. You'll learn a lot and then you'll hold exhibitions, and work with your camera more and more. School will end and you'll take a year off. You don't know what you want anymore. Many nights you'll cry about it and feel scared. Photography takes a chunk out of your life and you wonder if that's what you want. You're accepted into a photography college in Santa Barbara, California and offered an internship in Los Angeles. But you're only seventeen and can't imagine yourself alone, on the other side of the world just yet. In a last minute decision you'll apply for Law in Adelaide. You make it in, and accept your offer drunkenly in Summer of last year. You'll spend the next six months wondering everyday whether you made the right choices. And sitting here right now, at 2am, you'll hope that the answer will come to you soon. You'll wait for a time, five years from now, when you can sit down again and write. You'll be 24 with a blank page, to be filled with answers.