It's funny how priorities change. A year ago I was panicking over how I would cope at uni again. Seven months ago I was wondering whether we would actually be able to pull off the play, and would the hastily constructed viewing platform collapse before or after someone forgot a crucial line? Five months ago I was living in the library and trying to cram as much Chinese grammar into my skull as humanly possible. A few weeks ago I just wanted to get the dissertation done. Now my main grievances are that I can't carry a cup of tea from one room to the other as I need both hands for my crutches, and exactly how am I going to fill my days? At the beginning of this week I was unhappy. B called me and I lay on the living room floor sobbing, and he didn't know what to say, as he was in the office, and I was lying crippled on a rug.
In what may be a fleeting moment, I feel okay. My leg hurts a lot. Yesterday I left the house for the first time and saw another person on crutches, so I waved at them. Things today seem less bleak than at the beginning of the week. Momentarily I don't care about trivial things that should never have bothered me in the first place - like overhearing a comment directed at you that you weren't meant to hear ("she's actually quite attractive", in a disbelieving voice). I want to read books and watch films and plan for what I'm going to do next, and write letters and email old friends.
Today the sun has come out and I'm sure that this sudden influx of light is not unconnected to my mood. If I'd written this twelve hours earlier I would have written something darker.
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