The last letter I've written was from my bed in London, this time I'm trying to sit comfortably on the one in Muscat. I got so used to sleeping on a double bed that my king size bed now feels too big for my thin body. I'm grateful for my sister who is currently too lazy to move to her own room and is sharing it with me.
A lot has happened and nothing has changed since I started writing these letters 2 years back. I still dwell in my insecurities. I've become more anxious and worried about things that matter and others that don't. I find myself constantly trying to pause the present because I'm too scared to face the future and what it has for me. I still hate uncertainties and still try to organise and label and categorise everything that comes my way. I still hide behind 500 paged books, swallow black coffee that understands my bitterness and eat less as the days pass. Before I know it I'll be back to 50 kilos (if not less), and I'm hoping for at least my thoughts to get lighter with it. I'm probably a coward, but I'm satisfied with the present and rather not lose it.
But that's not fair, I'm always my harshest critic. I'm now more focused I feel, more determined and more sure about certain topics. I have a tiny bit of self confidence back and I share things much easier than before. I've become goal oriented more than ever before and I think it's doing me good. I passed my MSc with Merit and while that might be a sign of failing to meet expectations I'm kinda satisfied with it, I just have to remind myself not to compare. I have a little bit more knowledge up my sleeve and that's always a good thing. And most importantly, I as a person changed and change is healthy.
The other day I was thinking I might want to start my PhD by the time I reach you. We'll see how things will go.
The confused 24 year old