A very bumpy journey
In January, I went to Venice, and I had such a good time. It feels right to start with that, because it was the best time I'd had in a while. During the summer before, one of my best friends and I decided to book a mystery holiday for £99. We were convinced we'd be going to Latvia - I tried to convince her that Latvia was a very pretty place (because it is). We waited a few months, nervous because we'd both started university in different places, her in one end of the country, me in the other. That was never going to be a problem, we knew that, and it wasn't. Oriana got a call that we'd be going to Krakow for 2 nights, flying from a really far away airport, and It's worth mentioning that I have never met anyone who can just say the right thing to people. Somehow, she got us a four day stay in Venice from London, which worked better.
I remember how difficult starting university was for me. I have always liked to know a lot of people for some reason. It was always comforting to me to know somebody, because if something went wrong I would never have to be by myself. That is sort of selfish, and a little bit sad. I think I was probably both of those things in varying degrees at that point, like most people are at various points. At university, it was just me, I literally knew nobody - none of my friends had moved down south, and nobody at uni was from the north. I met my friends Paige and Hannah very early on, and I am so grateful for them. The beginning was weird, and I didn't settle for a long time. I felt like everybody on my course was a better writer than me, funnier, more creative. That doesn't matter. I literally cannot stress any further how little that matters. Nobody cares but you, and you're the only person who it effects. I wish I had known that when I started, because I prevented myself from learning a lot as I didn't want to admit I didn't know this or that. The term progressed and I still felt weird, I would go out with my friends but had no motivation to work, I missed lectures and just kept to myself when I got home. I barely ate a thing. I remember that now, how little i'd be eating. I would just forget, or eat things that weren't good for me. I didn't tell anybody because university was meant to be the one place I could be myself and I still didn't really know who that was yet.
Christmas time came and I felt more settled, I came home and had the best time. My friend Beth told me I need to stop comparing myself to everybody and start realising what contributions I could make, how I could grow and that it was important for me to actually like what I like, not what I thought I should like. I never told her how pivotal that was. I was going to write a big thing on what it means to me to actually like what I create now, all of that, but I just can't. I don't really need to or want to, so I'm fine with that. I just thought about it too much which I've since learnt is a big part of growing up that nobody had spoken about in front of me before. I am happy now, and I was happier too then, in January. I left uni early and met Oriana in London, we flew from luton and arrived in a very questionable area of Venice. It was a bit worn down, we loved it, there was paint everywhere.
We had the best time, and Oriana had an argument with a man about pigeons. We went on a lot of boats, laughed a lot, watched the whole of YOU season 2 in bed, late at night. We had both had a rubbish time, and we laughed so much. It was strange for me to feel so comfortable, we both felt so happy. This blog was primarily started for music, so I've linked a playlist to all the songs I listened to on that trip. I was meant to focus on the music but I'm not too good at concentrating on one thing. I remember listening to still woozy and Oz leaning over to say how much she used to love the song I'm listening to. I laughed thinking about how she was always cooler in her music taste before I caught up. I just felt like writing this tonight. I've come home and things are obviously different after tonight, and I just felt like saying that it was fine for me to struggle. I am sure I will again at some point. Some of my best memories come from a cheap, dodgy trip to Venice with one of my best mates - where we drank a lot, laughed a lot and I somehow managed to buy so many clothes. SO many clothes. Coming home, I wore 5 layers. I wish I was joking. I got chosen for a random security check and thought I was going to pass out inside the machine. I was wearing two coats. There was so much turbulence on the plane and all I could about was the fact I would have such a soft landing if anything happened.
It makes me happy to think about the time we strolled through the museums, admiring the paintings, feeling awkward because neither of us knew what the socially acceptable amount of time was before we could move on. I bought postcards and they stay next to my bed. My friends mean the world to me and I am very lucky to be able to have such nice memories. Hopefully we will go away again soon, and I just won't wear a jacket. I feel so much better recently, sorry for being the person who plays the sad song at a party - I didn't realise it but it seems that's the tone my writing has taken recently. haha.