You know there’s this one thing I have long known, but never previously shared with anyone, neither in public nor in private...
Not that this is a particularly secretive nougat that should only be kept within the confines of my skull; I just suppose the opportunity never presented itself…
Twenty four months: that really, is the longest period of time I could spend at any given place or institution.
This is the duration long enough to be marked by epochs and cataclysms; for history to be written, new standards to be set, achievements to be celebrated and looked back upon in times to come, meaningful relationships to be made —and detrimental ones to be killed.
And perhaps most importantly: critical life lessons to be experienced, absorbed, and learnt.
Dragged on for longer, and the burden of memory and familiarity becomes unbearable; the weighty baggage of experience and contempt start to swell up into a pool of trauma.
Twenty four months is the longest amount of time before I pass from being too comfortable to being too sick, and before I get stunt from growing and get encapsulated by the very spheres I set over myself.
As the sliver of realisation falls, comes a reality that liberty and release looms ever closer beyond the horizon.
I now liken myself to a four-engine winged-tubed craft at one end of a runway, waiting for four green lights to signal at the other, before putting thrusters to full for the imminent pressure-differentials to do their aerodynamic witchcraft.
And then, freedom.
