It's About Time

Tick tock - here that? The countdown is officially on. Not only have we entered the home stretch, we are approaching the finish line with surprising speed.

I can't believe that six months ago I didn't think the clock could tick any slower. Now it feels like the minute hand is spinning around at warp speed. And the realisation is most profound - not only have the last two weeks of my time in Queensland sped past like a V8, but the last six months, not to mention the last five years.

That's right. I've been out of highschool for five years. Where exactly did that time go?

Oh that's right... into a HECS bill.

Time has always been an enemy of mine. Every corner of my life is ruled by time. Deadlines. From my profession right down to boiling the kettle to make a cup of tea. Everything is a matter of how long it will take to do something, how long I have to complete a task, how long I have to wait. I am a walking expiry date, terrified of going mouldy.

It's always been this way. When I was in Year 12, I knew the end of the year held this monstrous rite-of-passage where I would finally move out of Gympie and to the big smoke in Brisbane. Nothing and no one was going to prevent me from doing so. I didn't want any excuse to stay in Gympie. So in those final months I stayed well away from boys and any ties they might bring.

It was the same when I moved to Sydney. Once I made that decision, I didn't want to have to leave anyone behind. Finding myself a boyfriend so close to moving away would only further complicate my ambition, so I denied myself and moved into my new digs in New South Wales as a single gal.

And literally like clockwork, I'm now back in the same place. Leaving again and not wanting any further reason to make it hard on myself. The deadline of going away is difficult enough without the addition of a broken heart.

So I'm a walking expiry date. Always have been. And maybe that means I haven't had as much (well, let's be honest Mr. Abbott) any experience when it comes to working in the romance department. Maybe that means I am an emotional cripple, a commitment-phobe, and the poor boy who eventually decides to love me is going to have an interesting time dealing with my fear of settling down, but whatever. At least I am not mouldy. My plan had cause. I am free to do whatever I like, with who ever I like, where ever I like without anyone or any boy to tell me otherwise.

But the plan isn't flawless. I may not have a boy to leave behind, but there's always someone. Or somebodies. And being back in Brisbane for these last few days has reminded me of that. It may be easier not growing mouldy and always being the one who leaves, but you can never escape the sting of leaving somebody behind.

I guess I thought I didn't have that much to lose by going overseas. Brisbane seemed like an eternity ago, I had a small circle of friends in Sydney and had spent the last year busting my butt in job which was a daily struggle for survival. All the stars seemed aligned for ditching it all to go overseas. But being back in Brisvegas with my friends has totally thrown me. I am reminded of everyone I love and who loves me and who have continued loving me despite all my galivanting around. And who will love me when I leave. And who will love me when I get back. And who will love me when I eventually leave again. Friends like that are hard to find and mine must be awfully forgiving, for all the whiplash I put them through.

So this post is dedicated to those people - Brisbane and Sydney alike - friends who have welcomed me into their lives even though I so frequently leave. Friends who keep up with me as I run ahead of my deadlines and who I know will never, ever let me grow mouldy.

Ciao for now. xo