Friday, 6 June 2014


The weeks of this summer are flying by quicker than I've ever known them to before. We're already a week into June. I find myself drifting unconsciously back over the summers I've had, from being ten years old and jumping from a tree to prove that I could, to sitting awkwardly alone on the grammar (the green) while my best friends snuggled with boyfriends near by, crossed legged and reading on the estate fields while the lads played football, then onto college and we were walking up Clent and sitting in beer gardens drinking pop. Three years of university have evaporated like steam from a kettle, a few moments of action, change, and then it all disappears and we're left with a stillness as if nothing has happened. This summer isn't to be like the others, there's to be no lounging on the grass, no grouping together every weekend,  no dreaming about the future because we're in it, living it.

I got my final results, I praised the sky that I'd passed everything and all was well. Just a few marks from my overall grade being a 2:1 would piss a fair few people off but honestly I was happy to pass. A 2:2 is a perfectly respectable grade and I'm frankly chuffed about it, it's a shrug of the shoulders after knowing I've passed, passing was all that mattered. I could have keyed the vehicle of that poetry bastard though, (which I can say now its all over) when I saw the pitiful mark he gave me but sod it, I still did better than I expected.

I felt no need to jump onto Facebook and tell the world, I text those who really cared, a handful of people I wanted to share this with me. In fact I felt a little disgusted by the facebook parade. Where is the line drawn between your own genuine happiness, and the happiness of just telling people? I reassured myself recently that my books and my ability to create a story is awesome. My most recent novel is flowing wonderfully, soon I will publish it myself. I know my own worth, I always have, I didn't and don't need a piece of paper to tell me what that worth is. I never much liked numbers. It's my imagination and my creativity that keeps me breathing, keeps me burning for life.

I detested university from the first week I started, I knew immediately that I'd made a mistake but I pushed on because I was there and I wasn't going to quit once I'd started. I am relieved it's all over. People who say those were the best years of their lives I feel sorry for. The best years of my life are yet to come and they will be magnificent.

It's over, I am a graduate.

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