REMEMBER ME

Three minutes. Three minutes after midnight. The new year is here.

I can hear my neighbours celebrate. Fun times.

At least for the once sociable enough.

In my case there is just me and my laptop, a classic messy bun and a wide jumper.

Being in my own thoughts, while fireworks fill the background with loud noises.

My first novel. How mad.

It makes me think so much that I nearly miss the vibration of my phone next to me.

“Jiliaaaaan”, the voice of my flatmate Keisha sings at the other end of the phone.

She is in Barcelona, probably drunk.

“Hey K', happy new year”, I say to her as friendly as I can.

But she knows me enough to know that I am not nearly as happy as I should be.

“Baby! This is going to be your year! Believe in yourself!”

Oh yes – she is definitely drunk.

“Yeah well I am writing at the moment.”

She won't like that.

“Honey why? Go at least to our new neighbour and say hello!”

The new neighbour won't fix my problems.

“Maybe. I'll call you once you are sober.”

I hang up and let her be.

Back staring at my laptop I get hit by reality and the fact that I spend my last

two hours, looking at a blank space.

What is wrong with me?

But looking in the mirror and listening to myself, there is only one answer:

I am scared. Scared of everything that lays ahead of me, whether it is good or bad.

All I want is a spark – the final idea that makes me write and just let go.

But how can someone let go, when writing is everything that someone has?

I have never known anything else in my life.

Maybe an acting class here, a singing course there.

But nothing could ever satisfy me as writing did.

And if I don't manage to finally become the person I always wanted to be -

an author, out in the world, read by many, heard by some and understood by few,

what was the point of trying and living?

What would my younger self say if it could see me wasting my time?

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

I shut my laptop and get up from my bed.

It has only been a few more minutes, fireworks are still glowing outside.

It is a beautiful view from the apartment in Greenwich, London.

And somewhere between the sparks of the new year and my fear of failing,

I also find hope.

Hope for all the things that are yet to come.

Hope for all the people that I have met and will meet.

Hope for new beginnings.

And that's when I knew:

This was just the beginning of something, that would change me

and my way of writing.

Between Hope and Fear.

14.01.2020 - LC HAMILTON