Ever since spring started to bloom, I’ve felt strange.
At first, I felt the pleasant optimism that a season like spring promises—the familiar, universal sentiment of a fresh new start. Opportunity and hope bursting forth in every blossoming flower bud; the clarity of a cloudless, blue sky, lush grass, and trees luminescent in the sun. Just as the daylight starts stretching a little further, I, too, believe I can go on a little longer, reach a little farther.
But the strange feeling interfering with this… I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is, but it’s the same feeling that wakes me up at 3 am and has kept me awake since. It’s like this every day. Fear or anxiety, perhaps. What’s there to fear about spring? I should write this in my journal, but the speed of my handwriting can never match the pace of my thoughts at such an hour... I opened my laptop, and the screen is blinding, a far cry from the dazzling spring sunlight. It should be rising soon… It’s dark and quiet in this room. Aside from the sound of the keys as I type, to my right, a clock ticks away, diligently and relentlessly…
The early morning anxiety is probably my body’s way of expressing its fear of… wasting the potential of spring. I have plenty to look forward to this season— travelling to a place I’ve never been, meeting friends and new people. New opportunities and new experiences…. I’m waking up in fear of squandering those opportunities. I think. I can’t say for sure what will happen in the coming weeks, but my brain seems to think it’ll be… less than satisfactory, maybe even downright terrible. What does waking up three hours after falling asleep do to solve that? Perhaps my anxiety is following this logic: waking up early gives you more time to “seize the day” or at least be up early enough to try and catch it as it comes around. Have I ever been awake early enough to watch the sun rise and catch the start of a morning? I have missed plenty of important sunrises. Maybe all sunrises are important, and I’ve just fallen asleep while waiting. Maybe I’ve just slept through them all. “Make use of every hour, no matter how sleep-deprived you are. Even if you feel like you don’t have a purpose. Just wake up and do something, please. Please, find that purpose”. Everyone and everything seems to have a clear purpose.
Spring has such a purpose among the four seasons. Spring always knows what she must do. Gathering the tired remains of Winter’s work, she lays her hands on the cold, dormant earth, willing it to life. “Get ready, the sun is coming”. Creatures and critters, great and small, come forth to heed her call, each with their own purpose; their collective duty to restore the Earth to its once-abundant state. Flowers and trees stretch out proudly, warming the cold scenes with their vibrant performance. Blades of grass come up from the damp soil, gasping for air and freshening our own. Birds perch at the ready on branches, warming their throats ahead of the dawn chorus. The wind blows, and a sound that can only be described as “nature” is carried along. A song with an irreplicable melody, but we all know how it goes. That sweet song that lingers just as Summer waltzes in. All created by that one composer we call Spring. If only I could be more like Spring…
A blue tinge is starting to spread across the walls of my room now. I guess the day is already passing by. I don’t want to be left behind.