I Don't Think I'm Ready

This week has been emotional for me, though in a rather internalised sense. My friends probably haven't noticed, and I think a handy (and on some occasions, not-so handy) skill I've learnt from writing is being able to submerge myself, but not bottle up my feelings until they explode. I like to think of it like wrapping your arms around somebody hysterical who tries to lash out, so tightly that they can't escape, until they eventually calm down once more. That's how I deal with things in a nutshell.

The issue right now is the idea of leaving. Leaving home, leaving friends, basically leaving every smidgeon of normalcy in my life and starting afresh. My singing teacher wants me to write a song and perform it solo (yikes!) at the Easter service, when our year leave. In all honesty, the idea of singing in front of five hundred people doesn't frighten me. I won't know most of the audience, and I won't need to be around them any longer if they do decide to judge me. However, it's the sixty or so people standing behind me that I really care about. My year, the girls I grew up with, and suddenly having to express how I feel about them so openly feels like the greatest challenge. All of a sudden, I'm letting go of that hysterical ball of emotion and trying to coax it out, but to no avail. No matter what I write, I feel as if it's corny, and just when I think I'm getting somewhere, it seems like nobody can understand what I'm trying to say.

Which is this. I love each and every one of them. I love them because they made me laugh until I cried, when they made me laugh to stop me from crying, and when they just plain old made me cry, so I learnt how to fight back. Even if they hate me, it's okay because they've taught me that I can be myself and be alright with not everybody liking me. They've taught me not to care, and to care so much that it aches, that I don't have to smile when I'm sad and feel like I have to. There's so much, and it's so easy to write down here. Yet somehow, matching it up to song is the most difficult thing.

I suppose because writing it here, nobody can see me say it, they can't judge whether I mean it, or if I pull stupid faces when I say it. They're faceless words and they're easy for me, but trying to tell everybody what they've done for me whilst trying to look confident, sing well, be sincere, it's a big hurdle for me.

And I only have nineteen weeks to practise jumping.

The End

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