A lifetime between us

We’re broken. No. I am broken. To a million pieces and nomatter how much I try to glue it all together it only leaves me with scarred hands. Bleeding. Trying hard. Too hard to stop the blood from gushing out like a mighty waterfall. Trying hard to blur the memories that become a little more clearer by the tick of the clock. The memories that crash me a little bit harder every time against the stone walls. Tall walls. Prison walls that trap me in thoughts that are in darkest shade of black. Darkness that I can feel take form. A form so thick with no heartbeat. A form with a foul smell so strong I can feel my head spinning. Slowing down. Breaking. Breaking a thousand different ways. Again. And again. And again.

The battles that count aren’t the ones for gold medals. The struggles within yourself – the invisible, inevitable battles inside all of us – that’s where it’s at ~ Jesse Owens

This was my first blog post ever. At twenty-three. Innocent about people. Innocent about love. Innocent about ambition. Pheeew. 

How much time has passed. How much life has been lived. How many fears have been faced. How many sunsets have been watched. How many friendships have faded. How many mistakes have been made. How many prayers have been whispered. How many heart breaks have been survived. How many punches have been taken. How many risks have been taken. How many chances have been missed. How many miracles have arrived. How many tears have been cried. How much growing has happened. How many dreams have changed shape. How much courage has been hidden inside. How much laughter has been laughed. How many versions of myself have I met and left behind?

I haven’t been writing as much as I used to. Not because I have nothing to say. If anything. I have  always had plenty to say. I am admittedly quite opinionated. I haven’t been writing as much as I used to. Maybe because if you put twenty-three year old me and twenty-nine year old me in the same room. They wouldn’t recognise each other. They would sit across from each other. Strangers carrying the same name. The younger one would arrive with certainty tucked beneath her arm. She would speak of dreams as though they were promises. She would look at me and wonder what happened. And I would look at her and wonder how to explain that life does not always take you where you planned but sometimes it takes you where you need to be. I haven’t been writing as much as I used to. Maybe because Lwandle was the way the younger version of me survived. Made sense of her world. Told her truth. Lwandle’s story has since come to an end. She was never meant to stay forever. I haven’t been writing as much as I used to. Maybe because I have been searching for the next story to tell. I haven’t been writing as much as I used to. Definitely because I have been gathering the courage to tell you mine. Allow me to begin again. A little older. A little wiser. A little softer. Allow me to reintroduce myself. 

Hi. I am Thomasina 🙂

I am less interested in writing stories than I am in living them. I have learned that life moves quickly. So this little corner of the internet will become a record of it all. The ordinary moments. The beautiful ones. The in between. I want to return here in ten years and meet this version of myself again. To remember what she feared. What she hoped for. What she prayed for. What she was still trying to become. I want to look back and see the fingerprints of God’s grace on every page. To see how far I have come. To see how much I have grown. To see all the ways life unfolded that I could never have imagined. So here I am. Documenting a life that is still being written.