I've got a huge list of blog posts just waiting to be written. All of the titles are sitting neatly in my notes, waiting patiently for me to pick one at random and give it detail and substance. I keep opening my laptop and staring at them all each morning, willing myself to just choose one and write something. Publish it so that this niggling feeling in my stomach which keeps growling "write, write, write" will subside.

But nothing has come to me yet. I think maybe my brain is distracted. I'm in a bit of a strange place in my life and although it's not completely at the forefront of my attention, nothing else seems to be filling that slot either.

The weeks since uni ended seem to have flown by in a haze of blissful freedom, food and friends. Towards the end of my dissertation writing, I was over it. I wanted out. I was counting down the days until I could submit the biggest piece of work I had ever written and be done with it. But as hand in day came and went, results day followed just as quickly. I celebrated, went out for a final meal with my beloved housemates, packed up my battered but lovely room, and left the seaside town which I had called home for the past three years. I drove away from Bournemouth with my metaphorical degree in my pocket and a readiness for the new lease of freedom which was awaiting me on the horizon of the M3.

Only, now I'm at that horizon, freedom doesn't feel as close as I'd previously thought. Yep, it seems as though 'freedom' is lurking back in my student house in Bournemouth, laughing as it juggles all of the things I've just given up without really realising. Living with my best friends. All of the free time in the world. Interesting lectures every week from lecturers I'd come to love. They're all spinning through the air away from me, faster and faster.


Someone take me back to uni.

So now, it's time to look ahead to this new chapter in my life. One which is going to be different, filled with new people and new types of freedom. I'm doing pretty well at the moment I guess. I'm already nowhere near as poor as I was living in my student house. I just got my first full time job as a social media assistant at ASOS (and I'm still reeling at the fact that that's even happened!!), I've printed and published my own zine on mental health and I am currently in the process of shipping it to lovely friends all over the world. I'm living with my parents again, which means more home cooked meals each week than I've had in the last three years put together, and actual live television!!

It's not all bad. I miss uni. I miss my friends. It's dawning on me slowly that that chapter really is over now. I can go back to Bournemouth any time I like. I could even move back there if I wanted to. But never again will I be in that place with those same people all around me. And really, it is the people, not the place, who made it the best three years of my life.

I'm going to miss that chapter. But I'm ready for my next one. It feels a little sad at the moment and I feel like my heart is still stuck on page 300 while my body is being pushed towards page 450. But I am ready.

You can't pick up a book and just reread the same chapter over and over. Where would the fun be in that? In order to live the entire story, the pages must keep turning. So, reluctantly for now, I am turning them.

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