Words are real.

There are times when truly, there is nothing more I could want for in life than just to feel refreshed, to feel renewed and regenerated. To not wake every morning already drained from the expectations that are held. To become free from my own shortfalls and to approach everything with the unrelenting energy it deserves.

I sit and I type occasionally, pretending that the thoughts I manage to capture fleetingly add up to something more than the few pixels they take up on the screen, when instead they are nothing greater than a vanity project for my own sanity – though by accepting them as such, their existence is valid and their words are real.

When I was younger, I used to think that I would be able to change the world. Then it appeared too hard, so I set the boundary so low that my achievements could be measured easily against it. An easy win was better than no win at all. But now I realise the errors in that ethos, in the notion of manipulation in order to appear successful.

The goal post was simple: if I could change one person’s life for the better, then my purpose in life was fulfilled.

How ridiculous, and narcissistic, had I been in setting this ambition that was so passable that everyone I know, and even everyone I don’t, has completed this. Being nice to one person doesn’t make you a better person. The ambition to change the lives of others isn’t something to be capitalised on – we all seek to improve those around us in some way.

In the last few months, as evident on here as in my personal life, you will know that my mental health has been low, that I couldn’t continue, that there was literally nothing I could do to break free then to separate myself from the cause.

My depression and general anxiety is caused by an inability to see into the future and work towards something greater. I get bogged down in the details as if they are much more. As the adage goes; don’t swear the small stuff.

Today, I walked around a contemporary gallery. The artists carefully selected for the exhibition, with multiple practices represented on the clinical white walls. I could do this, I can create as well as this curation. Last week I attempted to read a book, but it was so terrible, that once more I know I can write better prose. On my way home I walked through Lambeth and thought about my ambition to help make a positive change to South London, and it dawned on me that I can.

So why then, do I feel like holding myself back. Is the fear of failure to grand to try and tackle? Or is it an anxiety of the unknown? Why can I not seem to through caution to the wind and just dive head first. When I’m broken and bruised, there will at least be a story to tell. Isn’t this how all legends begin?

I look forward, and I see new pastures. I see the change needed and the air to breathe and the water to cleanse and the friends to laugh, and the family to love and the wonderful city that I am so lucky to live in. After a few difficult months, I see colour and saturation and art and liberty and peace.

But looking back, there is an undoubtable truth – my life has been changed for the better by the individual I have spent so much of my time with. There are no words to begin to give thanks. There are no words to describe my admiration or gratitude for shaping me into who I am.

Whilst I’ve been worrying about changing others for the better, I had neglected to realise the change you’ve made to me.