My mind has been tumbling around like a washing machine lately. What an image, huh? I’ve just realised that things around me, things that mean a lot to me, and even the year are all coming to a close. Everything in my life at the moment seems to be coming to some sort of ending and I’ve noticed that it’s left me feeling, above all, really afraid.
I started keeping a journal on the 9th of July 2014 and this year, 2015, I finished it on the 15th of December. Suddenly something that had started out as a negative place, as a more forced task than an actual want, something that I thought I would never get to the end of was…completed. Along the way it started to mean a lot more to me. It’s nice to know you have a place completely of your own to write whatever you want. I write about good days, bad days, moments, lists, little drawings, poems. I stick in movie tickets from movies I loved, photos I’ve taken or found, Polaroids. There’s also a pouch in the back that I slip in random pieces of paper I’ve either scribbled on, been given, or have accumulated.
The first entries into that journal were so sad. They were so sad and I can barely bring myself to go back and read them. But it finished so positively. The last entry was practically shinning out, covered all over in real happiness. As I was writing that last entry I got half way and felt myself begin to cry. But not just normal crying. I was sobbing; loud and uncontrollably. My heart was crying. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so emotionally attached to something before – apart from family and friends of course and Red Beach. But an inanimate object that stumbled into my life, basically as a last resort, has now become my most prized possession. I’ve grown to love having a journal and I really don’t know what I would do without it. I take it with me everywhere. It’s incredible to see the journey I went through, reflected in my little journal. I think that’s why I was so apprehensive to close it for good. I didn’t want it to end, I didn’t want to leave that journey. I’ve started another but it doesn’t feel exactly right yet. A new chapter, literally. Which is scary, but exhilarating too. I can’t wait to fill it with memories.
Also the year is coming to an end. I’ll have to get used to writing 2016 instead of 2015 soon. It looks so odd, but I guess it always does. I’m still not used to writing ’12’ for the month. It’s funny to think how fast time really does work. I can remember starting out in year 11. I was absolutely terrified. And as this year draws to a close that also means my birthday fast approaches. In January I will be sixteen. A lot of my friends and people around me have already turned sixteen, but none seem to be as scared or unwanting of it as me – or so I can tell. The age sixteen to me looks daunting to write, daunting to say, daunting to be. It feels finally like, hey, you’re kinda pretty old now; time to grow up. There is something about nearly being sixteen that stabs me right in my core. I feel uneasy, sick. I still dance in the rain on the street, stick my head and hands out the window of the car on a sunny day, hold my mums hand. I’m not ashamed of it either. People my age and even younger – which is the scary part – are trying so desperately to be older and I just think to myself whenever I see that, hey, slow down kiddo. What’s the rush? Your childhood will come to an end one day and you won’t even realise till years later because you spent the whole of it trying to be a completely different age, instead of cherishing it.
I’m scared for this year to finish. I can’t believe that it’s Christmas in three days! THREE DAYS?! I think it’s because I had such a good year. Of course there were the not so good moments, but every life, every day is made up of both the good and bad. There was just a lot more good this year compared to last year and bad moments that weren’t as drenched in sadness as they were last year. I’ve still got a long way to go, but this has been the year, I think, when I’ve really grown into myself. I know who I am and I can’t wait to find out more about who Brecon really is and will become.
There was something my best friend, Michaela, (well sister…otherwise she’ll get angry at me), said to me when I told her I had just finished my journal and I was upset. She sent me a text saying, I know it’s scary, but sometimes, a new chapter is good. You can’t just keep living the same chapter over and over. New chapters are scary, but also very rewarding. And it has stuck with me. However after that she did say man, I’m wise, so take it with a pinch of salt. I’m kidding, she’s right. I am so afraid. I’ll admit that. I’m scared. But hey, what would we be if we never got scared or had no fears. You can’t relive the same chapter over and over. You have to start a new one. Flip over to the next page and simply start from where you left off, or start completely anew. I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas and New Year. And remember. Be scared, afraid, unsure. Be aware of endings. But, also don’t close you’re eyes for a second; you might just miss the beginning of something extraordinary.
Lots and lots of love from Brecon
Stay Gracious (and safe over the holidays) xxxx