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It’s 9pm. Usually, I’d see my partner sign in to our instant messenger and we’d catch up.

We’ve had a week without communication; this would be a large session. We’d talk about his exams and then his results. About how he’s feeling about Cambodia. About my trip to Cornwall – my photography, the swallow nest I filmed and the progress of writing 25 pages of novel material. About how the poem I entered into a competition has been short-listed. About how afraid I am about getting my results and seeing the dentist on Tuesday [thank you, fates, for that double-blow].

However, he’s on a plane.

He’s far out of my reach for another month.

I keep reminding myself: What’s four more weeks when we’ve just endured ten?

We’ve never, not been online for more than 2 weeks, and that was at University, where we had people to talk to and things to occupy our minds. I’ve no games on this laptop – it’s only on loan to me. Barely a tenth of my music and I’ve now got an hour a day to fill with only conversations with myself.

So I guess I’ll dedicate this time, to novel-writing. I’ve got the first 1/5th planned at least. I have motivated characters and the odd scene in my mind. I’ll allow myself to describe the scenery in poetic detail.

Tomorrow, I’m meeting up with a friend – the lady who did her Reiki I and II courses with me. I’m hoping a connection with that energy will help kick-start the process of being alone, yet sovereign. It’s too easy for me to fall into the conditionality of being a child here- in this house with only my parents for company.

I’m working on keeping myself whole. I plan to stay present. To remember my Buddhist training. To connect with friends often. To dance it up!

And the parts of me that hurt will just have to infuse my pages, and become nothing more than a simulation of a story.

In Light,
Rose.

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