When I left school at sixteen I had this daydream playing out in my head of myself in so many years walking through Victoria Square awaiting my graduation. The dream was always a perfect day, crisp but sunny in my favourite month: September. I would be carrying a satchel bag, wearing a beret and look and feel every inch 'The Student'.
It's that little dream that kept me going at certain times of uncertainty and now that day has arrived. The weather is very accurate.
I have with me my satchel bag curtsey of Pidgin.
No beret because the blue sky dictates that it is unnecessary. Even the fountains are on, a tank is filling one just now, it's a beautiful day.
Yet I don't feel every inch the sophisticated graduate. I feel unemployed. In a charity shop skirt with scuffed shoes. I don't want this ceremony bullshit. I would rather stay here on these steps, hearing the water from the fountain, feeling the sun on the back of my neck while I write in this notebook. My scribble of thought will eventually turn into the structure of my new novel and I will be at peace, writing the stories that might one day prove me to be more than I am right now. Right now I don't feel like the world is my oyster, I don't feel young with everything ahead. I feel poor and wretched.
Stupid dreams...They never work out the way you think they will.
I waited for this day for five years and it was a complete and utter let down.
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