Yet that night, as my head hit the pillow, I felt a little more relaxed. Truth be told, I fell asleep on reaching page 15 of the textbook, having unwisely chosen my bed as my place of study. They have your head melted.”Īdmittedly, I had watched three adaptions of the film in the run up to the holidays, but I assured her that the Dickens novel was not at fault.Īnd so, that morn…afternoon, I went for a brisk walk, and studied for…well…one hour. “Those three ghosts going on about the past, present and future. On calling a friend and explaining how I felt, she suggested that I had been watching too much of Charles Dickens ‘A Christmas Carol.’ And most disturbingly, whether those logs at the bottom of the stairs had killed Alfie Moon on impact in the previous night’s Eastenders episode. Not even the sight of Meghan Markle in a pin striped skirt could stop me from ruminating about the passing of time, the list of achievements I had yet to accomplish, the fate that would await me, one of an unhealthy mind and body, filled with frustration and disappointment within myself, if nothing changed. In fact, as the minutes ticked by, I began to feel more on edge. I discarded my cereal bowl (unwashed-standard) in the sink and turned on Netflix, hoping an episode of SUITS would dilute that same sense of urgency that I had felt the night before. It is getting to the end of life, only to realise that you never truly lived.” “It is not death most people are afraid of. Yet, while eating breakfast at midday, Prince Ea’s words of wisdom made themselves heard once again above the snap crackle and pop of my Rice Krispies. There was a moment of bleary-eyed confusion, before I unplugged the device at its source, the warmth of my bed far more appealing than a cold kitchen. I was thirty years of age, carrying almost two stone extra in weight, badly in need of locking down further industry certs in my chosen career and single with not a penny saved.īut it was 1am, the Christmas trifle had been demolished, Tinder was kindly reiterating that there wasn’t a sinner to be seen in my area, the credit union was closed for business and I was far too sleepy to open one of the academic textbooks I had purchased the year previous.Īnd so, I did the only thing I could think to do in that moment to alleviate the impending sense of panic – I set my alarm clock for 7am.Īfter what felt like an hour at most, my radio began to blast Ariana Grande’s ‘Thank You, Next’ (very apt considering what happened in the moments thereafter), waking me with a start. On finishing the clip, I felt a terrible sense of urgency. Throughout the duration of his short film, Williams eloquently spoke about regret, how it was the most commonly felt emotion at the end of life and pressed the importance of getting after our dreams while still able to do so. It was released by Richard Williams, a.k.a ‘Prince Ea’, an American spoken word artist, poet and filmmaker.
(I know, the irony wasn’t lost on me either.)
In December of last year, I clicked on a motivational video while lazily scanning my Facebook feed.
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