They tell me this is cheaper than therapy. As a student that’s rather appealing. So I’m giving it a go...
I can’t say I know how to start one of these things. You know the saying, “write what you know,” well… my knowledge consists mainly of “Friends" quotes and mediocre culinary skills, of which I have mastered the perfect milk to cereal proportion (and the delicate technique of over pouring the milk if you’re gunning for a second bowl). I have many friends who write these kinds of things. They share quirky hobbies and body positive posts, or they sell vintage clothes online and make a fortune off Depop. Where as I am unapologetically ranting at 3am over random thoughts that cross my mind. Could I BE anymore cliche? (Hardcore Friends fans - you know)
Last Summer, I moved to London, out of my childhood home and into the full responsibilities of adulthood. It was incredibly daunting, I spent half my time at college and the other half writing music in my bedroom. I think subconsciously I was too afraid to use the tube for the first few months, briskly walking to and from college. It became apparent to me that there were many things I didn’t know about, skills I should have acquired by now and small things you take for granted at home. Things like your National Insurance number. How do I get one? Do I already have one? Or simply how to contact the bank and order a new bank card when you sat on your own and bent it? Or even make a simple decision on whether you can justify buying a £25 dress? There may not be one item in your kitchen cupboard but you still stand in Topshop contemplating for thirty minutes.
I have a tendency to get overwhelmed by the stresses of growing up, being only the mere delicate age of 18. Unashamedly, when something goes wrong I tend to sulk in my bed and blame Trump for all my problems (a completely mature response in my opinion). I find myself getting stressed over the stupidest things and sometimes think that I can often be so alone in my thoughts, fears and emotions. This is when lack of sleep and delusion kicked in. I’ve come to realise that we all often share similar experiences and difficulties. My friends and I will often complain about how much money we have in our banks, we kick ourselves over the drunk texts we sent the night before and even rant about that time we queued in Lidl for over an hour, only because we can’t afford to do a food shop at Sainsbury’s. And it’s not only students, but I know full grown women who still put red socks in with their white wash. When do we actually grow up? I thought maybe it would be some point around my 18th birthday but I am still 5ft 2 (and a half), and I was 5ft 2 in year six. I’ve grown half a foot!
I really wanted to start something that hopefully some of you may be able to relate to. And while I’m learning things myself maybe some of you could share a few tips.
I write this as I prepare to go back to London, it’s my last day In sunny Cardiff. I have managed to tightly pack all my Christmas candles and IKEA bowls - my family know me all too well - and although slightly fearing getting onto the Jubilee line with two suitcases, I am all ready to go. I have, “New year, New me,” irritatingly ringing in my head and I am excited to get back, unpack and begin the well overdue and off-putted A -Level English revision. For those of you who don’t know me, my life-changing move was inspired by my desire to pursue a career in music, a very impulsive yet responsible decision I believe, and although being 16 years of age at the time, I found myself surrounded by incredible and inspiring musicians and tutors, having made some lifelong friends in a limitless city. For the first time in my life, I was fully on my own and in a place I didn’t know. Aren’t we all sort of making it up as we go along?
I get disheartened every time I leave my family. Going home has so many perks that London lacks, like good home cooking and familiar company when you get in. I also got my eyebrows done! I don’t know if that’s just my devotion to my lady and deep fear of change, but regardless, I always miss Cardiff as soon as I leave.
So that’s me in a nutshell. Welsh born and bred. A slightly OCD, self confessed work-aholic and food addict who likes an exaggerated story, and occasionally, a cheeky bottle of Prosecco. What could go wrong with sharing your completely unfiltered thoughts online?
Please leave comments or feel free to contact me for a chat. We may find something rant-worthy for next week.