It's Late.

With a sigh I look up from my laptop blurry-eyed at the darkness beyond. It’s time for a break, I write.

As the cooler evening breeze blows, I hear the soft hum of traffic, the thoughts concealed behind my eyes hum too. In a way the darkness is soothing to me, it is quiet, lonely, the whispers of an evening coaxing me to rest. But I feel inspired.

December is lurking in the wings and the anticipation of the last month of the year is both exhilarating and exhausting. December is a month of juggling everything endlessly. When I want so desperately to make something happen, I have a tendency for tunnel vision. I work harder, and harder in the knowledge that it won’t be easy. And, as the weeks whir on, it is this feeling which excites me, which signals my drive, the risks I’m taking, that I’m going after my dreams. When I rest my head on the pillow at night, I know I gave that day my all. And I’m proud of that.

This year, I’ve learnt lessons, I’ve learnt what I’m capable of, I’ve learnt to change the narrative. That it’s all there for the taking.

And, although this year is drawing to a close, it feels like it’s just the beginning.