I'm sitting here with 10 minutes left to French lesson, and I realise that everything in life is but temporary.
I used to spend minutes, hours and days just reading about the lives of other people. Fantastic lives, eventful and impactful journeys, defined by the moments that make life living. And I would look back at my own life, so utterly devoid of excitement, filled with the drudgery of schoolwork, the banality of taking the bus from school and home, and other mundane things.
I would sit and wonder why I didn't have the life I wanted to lead. Then I realise that everyone has their own life to lead, and every journey is important because of the landmarks along the way. If I were to spend my life looking over my shoulder, I would never realise what I had in front of me, until it had passed me by.
And one day when I sit around wondering what had been, I would realise that I had a whale of a time, only that when I did, I never realised it, never treasured it, and never took the experience by my own two hands and lived in it.
I might not enjoy school, but the experiences I've had as a result of studying here, some of them are wonderfully unique. In strange ways, I find myself looking back upon them and smiling. It's not always a bed of roses in a garden scented with lavender, but a life based on a singular cachet of certifiably great ways to live would quickly lose all semblance of meaning, meaning that comes with having lived through a variety of experiences, both the extraordinary and seemingly mundane.
We go through lows so we appreciate the highs more. Okay, I'm ready for another difficult French lesson.