Months unaccounted for
Flashing forward, four months unaccounted for…
By digital standards this gap would be easily considered as a crippling shift between then and now; a black smudge on the page of a writer’s collective works which has devalued the time leading up to the present. It’s not so much a case of ‘time well spent’ but more ‘time unrecognised’. Similar to a recovering amnesia patient, I must recall my past experiences in the hope that I find something worthwhile within it.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid of the readership, it’s been a long time. I’m scared I’m going to fuck things up: I’m scared I’ll realise something terrible, that my creativity and my ability to express a thought in words is gone, and all that’s left behind is a bitter notion of what could have been as opposed to what really is: I’m afraid that I’m going to bombard you with so much literary pretense that you’ll find me laughable. Perhaps upon a quick scan you’ll confirm my latent uncertainty, as you regret choosing an anonymous note over an extra minute with your coffee. It’s probably gone cold, my condolences.
Certain events have led to a change of circumstances in my life. For instance, I’m typing this post in a library located in Värmlands, Sweden. For the next nine months I will be a full-time student of Karlstad Universitet, as a part of the ERASMUS exchange programme.
But more about that later, I need to decide whether I backtrack or start fresh, the latter is somewhat appealing.
But seeing as I no longer reside in Coventry, this domain may be somewhat problematic. I’ll get back to you with a decision later.
It’s good to be back.