I had so many images that popped in to my head what I saw the daily prompt.
Clinically speaking, a cusp is a pointed end, or where two curves meet.
To be on the cusp of something, however is to be on the precipice; to sit on the edge of something big, the verge of a development.
I feel like I’m sitting on all kinds of cusps at the moment.
No prizes for guessing which one is at the forefront of my mind.
Zac and I had a disagreement yesterday, and the loneliness I’ve been feeling here bubbled over and seeped in, lacing the vicious text I sent him, challenging him to call me selfish one more time when I was doing all this for him, I was here because of him, I was lonely and friendless, wet and cold, because of him.
I didn’t mean it.
I did, but I didn’t mean the vindiction which with I said it.
What I meant was, I’m on the cusp of the most incredible adventure of my life, I want to jump in to it with you and I’m sad you can’t be here, holding my hand while we wait to fall.
At work, I’m on the cusp of greatness.
I’ve settled in to the role, I feel like I’m doing really well, I’m quietly confident I’m smashing it, but at the same time, there’s always that worry that it’s not enough.
I want to know everything, and my confidence means that when I don’t know something, it feels like a greater fall, a bigger mistake.
The visa has felt like it’s been on the cusp of being granted since we lodged it and got my fingerprints scanned in Phnom Penh.
The waiting made worse by concerned family and friends, always asking, always worrying, always exasperated as how long it’s taking.
I thought things were on pause before, but I’m living life in slow motion.
Trying to save, trying to eat right, trying to get a routine, go to the gym and be a boss bitch.
But it seems fleeting, temporary and insignificant.
I spend my weeks counting down the days until Zac’s here next.
And then counting down the days…
Counting down to an indeterminate date.
And I realise how irresponsible it is, wishing my year away.
I won’t get this time back and I don’t want to look back on New Zealand and wish I’d done more, seen more, ate more brunches.
2017 has been wonderful to be so far, really, but I still can’t wait for it to be over.
Or at least these parts.
I want these parts to go quicker. I want the waiting to whizz by, I want to dangle my feet over this cusp with a coffee in my hand and be tipped over before it’s had time to cool.
I keep dreaming of sauntering back in to my Melbourne life, of my morning routine, of our house, wherever that is, of our puppy or our kitten – whichever we decide to love first.
I’m sick of making my own coffee in the morning.
I miss cuddles in bed.
We’re on the cusp of a new era.
It’s terrifying, and exciting, and infuriating.
And I wouldn’t change it for the world.