The Beginning.

Its 12.20a.m.

I am writing this on the day of my graduation. As of today, I am officially considered a new graduate physiotherapist. I am "licensed to touch" so to speak.

Its 12.23a.m.

Its late and my father is snoring. Mum is clipping her fingernails. Sis is conked out on the couch. I hear the washing machine spin through the door. My fingers run lightly over the keys as I type this. Its a small laptop and in some ways, I'm still getting used to the space.

Its 12.29a.m.

I am scared shit with the idea that I am going to graduate. I can't believe it. It's ironic beyond belief. I will be working as a real health professional doing things to people who are paying me money for my services. Am I really cut out for this?

12.31a.m.

I really should go to sleep. But I can't believe I'm going to graduate. My mum has to mention that I didn't study well for the last 3 years of my life, that I was continually distracted. Okay. Fine.

12.32a.m.

The light is yellow and I'm sitting at this wooden dining table writing out the beginning of my working professional life. Well, not so much beginning rather than the licence to begin a professional career. I kinda officially start work in a few weeks time. But yet....oh my. 

12.34a.m.

Parents are asking me to go to bed as I need to wake up tomorrow morning. They want me to go to sleep.

I still can't believe I closed on seafood tonight. I'm working hard labour for shit pay and I'm graduating tomorrow.

Yes, I'm getting all stuck up already because I'm going to be holding a degree. Pft. I know. Bad, right?

12.37a.m.

I've GOT to go to bed. Yeah, I know. 

Goodnight.