darling, so it goes

I think at that point I was tired of talking about things but not ever doing them. It was so much like back at Hailsham, the elaborate fantasies we constructed but knew we'd never get to live. But the thing is, I could live in Darrow. I could be so many things I couldn't be before. I don't know what was holding me back, but at some point I just thought enough is enough and decided I was going to become something more.

And it's not that my job as a volunteer at the hospital didn't satisfy me. It really did. I guess, and maybe this is silly looking back, I just wanted something that said I was worth a little more than that. A certificate or a letter after my name or something that said I was more than someone who gave and never got back. That I was more than a donor. That I deserved something in return.

So I went to Darrow's community college and found myself some forms. I never even considered something other than nursing. I'd always thought I was a good carer - not to boast, of course, but I truly believed I was - and figured this came close. I figured it would be better, even, having patients that had a future that wasn't the abrupt ending of their lives.

I was shaking as I took the forms, carried them back with me to a coffeehouse where I ordered tea and sat. I pored over them like they held the secrets to all of life's mysteries, even let myself smile at the pictures of nurses doing duties on the front and back. I know how ridiculous that sounds. I know that they were only models meant to lure me into the degree. I'm not that naive. But they made me happy nonetheless. They allowed me to picture moving forward.