I’ve never been good on holidays.
There’s something about being loosed of the mechanical ways of a routine that provides opportunity for, essentially, a crises.
A deeply stereotypical teenage existential crises, in fact.
Finishing school has graced me with this opportunity.
Whilst the thought of lazing around all day, piles of books and stacks of notes out of sight, glistened in the midst of gruelling exams, there’s something to be said for the ease of routine.
In the fast-paced, comfortable and well-trodden path of daily routine, I was accustomed to the ability of overlooking nagging thoughts, till slowly they faded into the monotonous background of life, disappearing.
Not surprisingly, I’d assume many of us would wish that these sorts of thoughts could, in fact, permanently disappear.
Once again, holidays have, here, proved me wrong.
Slowing down has allowed what has been previously concealed to surface, urging me to consider what had once so easily been pushed aside.
Although it seems unappreciative to fail to sing praises about this transitional phase, to fill the void with a plethora of plans, there is difficulty in addressing questions you have chosen to ignore for so long, for you don’t know how to answer them, or would rather not even consider them in the first place.
However cliched, there is something worrying about this period of time allowing the freedom for me to reconsider a lot of what I thought I knew, or had just come to accept without question.
How do we even begin to attempt to answer larger, pressing questions? What foundations do we rely on, and how do we know when to uphold our preconceptions, or when to abandon them and voyage out on our own path, defining it as we go?
Going 150mph with scenery flashing past, quickly being forgotten and replaced, seems much less daunting than being forced to acknowledge our surroundings, good or bad, crawling down the road at a mere 20.