my brain is a storage container of metaphors
So many good things are coming, trips overseas, musicals, parties, dance concerts, music camps, new schools, but I feel like someone's built this massive bridge between now and then, and that bridge is the exams. And you see, it isn't one of those nice bridges that you can walk, skip or run across, this one has a strictly enforced speed limit and a big sign that says "bridge under repairs, come back five or so days."
I feel bad every time I start to get excited for those things on the other side of the bridge, when I catch myself planning the clothes I'm going to wear on the plane or fretting about the size of my scarf for my dance solo, because I have to be using these extra hours to prepare myself for the painful journey across the bridge, and anyone, I can deal with those things on the other side when I get there, when they come.
Once the bridge is opened, and I can start battling my way across it, I'll be fine, I'll jump every hurdle, dodge every obstacle, and before I know it, I'll be enjoying all those lovely things on the opposite bank, which now are just teasing me, flashing in the summer sun.
But for now I sit in limbo, in a waiting room full of anxiety and Greek vocabulary, counting down the days until someone takes down the sign, and we can start this painful trek.
I feel bad every time I start to get excited for those things on the other side of the bridge, when I catch myself planning the clothes I'm going to wear on the plane or fretting about the size of my scarf for my dance solo, because I have to be using these extra hours to prepare myself for the painful journey across the bridge, and anyone, I can deal with those things on the other side when I get there, when they come.
Once the bridge is opened, and I can start battling my way across it, I'll be fine, I'll jump every hurdle, dodge every obstacle, and before I know it, I'll be enjoying all those lovely things on the opposite bank, which now are just teasing me, flashing in the summer sun.
But for now I sit in limbo, in a waiting room full of anxiety and Greek vocabulary, counting down the days until someone takes down the sign, and we can start this painful trek.