Three years ago, I arrived in Canada–ready for a new start, adventure, purpose.
Three years prior to that, I arrived in London–ready to show the first draft of my novel to fellow students, writers and teachers.
Three years prior to that, I graduated with my BA degree and returned to Germany from England–ready to give my home country another chance and made great friends.
Three years prior to that, I completed high school in northern England and looked forward to going to university.
Three years prior to that, I was close to finishing high school in Germany and didn’t know what to do with myself.
Three years prior to that, John Lydon’s autobiography changed my life by teaching me how to think for myself.
Three years prior to that, my parents insisted I went to grammar school, although I was recommended to go to a less challenging school.
Three years prior to that, I was standing outside in the schoolyard on my own every day (Years in Primary School).
Three years prior to that, my family and I were celebrating my sister’s first birthday.
Three years prior to that, my parents bought me a wooden rocking horse.
Three years prior to that, my mother moved to Germany to marry my dad.
I was a planned honeymoon baby born in the year of the rat–made in autumn and then first saw the light in the summer. I don’t know why, all of a sudden, I began looking so far back. Suppose I’m just looking for meaning as usual. There must be a reason why my beautiful mum and dorky dad met. I’m still trying to understand the result of it all.
Bouncing between determinism and indeterminism is an existential crisis that I can’t share or talk about. I’ve become aware of the major changes that have taken place in my life and how they have shaped me, but certain traits are inborn–you can’t explain them.
Also, nothing is constant or everlasting, and it suddenly saddens me. I used to be good at seizing the day and being who I am. As of now, I forgot how it works. Either that or my awareness has me paranoid as I’m growing older. It’s scaring the shit out of me. But I have to bite through it.
Three years from now, I will hopefully be proud of myself for whatever I will do next.