Dearest Reader,

Rummaging through what can only be described as an organised chaos – my room, I was struck by a moment of pure reflective delight. As I sorted through many inanimate objects like CDs, old papers, computer parts, and other ‘fun’ things – as I once described them, I realised that these things, which once had some significant value, had lost their worth. I looked at them individually, searching through my memories to find exactly the moment where they did have value. And it was interesting. These things which were now worthless to me served a vital purpose during their time. They enabled me to achieve, to learn, and to excel, and without them, I couldn’t be where I am today. I was very thankful for the, now, worthless objects.

Reflecting on how this impacts me today, I was struck with this important truth. Everything has their purpose and their design. Sometimes things, much like the objects I was sifting through, was meant only to serve you at one precise moment and then become obsolete. It doesn’t mean that that object is no lesser important than the ones which serve a longer purpose, no, it just means that its design and use is different to that of the other object.

What scares me, though, is this: this doesn’t apply to only things, it also applies to everything – people. Some people are only there for a brief moment, but what they achieve and how they enable another person is part of their design. I don’t mean to make people seem disposable, but rather I want to accept that not everyone will be there at the end. People are ultimately that: people. They aren’t inanimate objects which often gets left on a tabletop. They are living, breathing, human beings who are also trying to live a life worth living.

In the end, as I finished rummaging through the stuff in my room, I realised that I am happy for everyone. I am thankful for the people who have bought into my life and for the people who were passing by. Both are equally important, as it is not necessarily only the people who stay with you who push you to your limits, sometimes it’s the people who don’t who do.



Falling Leaf.

Dearest Reader,

Have you ever wondered about how many individual moments happen as a single leaf float down from the tree it came from? Millions – no, billions – of people walk, hug, kiss and live as that single leaf float through the air. I wondered about this today. I wondered, as the person who I desired to care for walked away from me on the green hillside of my university, how many individual moments occurred in that same little amount of time. I was left with an emotion that is all too familiar that it felt ordinary, and was left essentially breathless. She asked me if I was okay, but what could I say apart from the all-too-typical “of course” as I felt emotionally torn. It’s been one hell of a morning.

Why am I writing about this experience? It’s quite simple. Before ‘her’ I told myself that this would be the last time I pursue a girl until I finished my studies. It would be a voluntary restriction on myself for two years, to focus, to endeavour, and to achieve. And so it is. As she walked away from me, and as I stared blankly at her vague direction I understood that within that momentary brokenness I knew what that meant and I knew what I had to do.

Many things in life don’t work in the way that you hope for, and that’s okay. I know better than to sulk in defeat. My head is raised high; I’ve stood up, and am walking. I don’t quite know where this road of life is heading… but that’s, I guess, part of the fun.