First Year Uni: What I really learnt.
Last Thursday at 10.30am, I completed my first year at university. While it carried with it a sense of relief, The End docked with much less triumph than I imagined it would. It felt indefinite, unsure if this was the destination, if we’d even boarded the right ship. For weeks now, people have been filtering out of the halls. I’ve fought with final days, with wind, rain and Descartes theories condensed on an A4 piece of paper. And despite how it couldn’t have come sooner, the end of first year has given rise to an oddly unattached emotion. I imagine retiring will…
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STRONGER
I remember the day I finally held myself accountable. It was sudden and unprecedented, like most encounters we’ll have with change. Not surprisingly, this turning point occurred in front of the mirror. I’d stopped and looked at myself, only to face a familiar discomfort with the opposing reflection. Nearing 16, I was well-informed of this prime I would enter in teenage-dom. They spoke of it as the do-all era. We’d stride through it encompassed by all but limitation. A sense of invincibility, this would be inevitable. The person I saw in the mirror – the girl who would embark these…
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