7:34am - 06.02.25

I woke up early this morning. I had slept with my window open so the air of my room wore a dewy British cold that shrunk me into a foetal position while I slept. It was left that way the evening before because my OCD nagged me to believe something bad would happen if I closed it. As much as I try to live against that voice, sometimes I just need to put my fingertips to my temples and listen. I can’t be expected to retaliate every time, although maybe still I give in too much. By the time I sleep again this evening, I will be back in my university city. I’ve been enjoying the comforts of my home town in the country, even if I am only here out of a necessity to be looked after. The song of this area is smooth, rolling, built up of layers of birdsong and faraway traffic and a breeze ruffling the trees. The wide space between everything softens the sounds so that they bleed into each other like watercolour. I can appreciate the city noise, too - there is an energy to the jutting car horns and heavy-rhythmed music spilling out shop fronts and the speakers of men on the promenade. There is a constant sense of conversation. But, a city stands too close, breathes down your neck and sweats even in winter. At a time where every other piece of my life seems to be doing the same, I can really get comfortable in the placid attitude of my home town.