Sunday's script

I’m 21 and in need of a large slice
of reality... But I’m determined not to grow up and be responsible...
not just yet anyway. I was born on the banks of the Thames in the 80s,
I spent the 90s and the noughties living all over South London; from
Brixton to Clapham to Croydon; I travelled the world, lived in the Philippines
for awhile before coming back to London town where my heart truly belongs.
At the ripe age of 19 I thought I needed something on paper to prove
my life skills so I skipped up North and found Manchester University.
Manchester, oh Manchester, where it rains all day but that’s ok if
you’re hungover and still in bed. When I’m not nursing myself from
last night’s
antics you’ll find me studying, photographing, partying,
working, falling in love and writing about it all in my little old blog.
I’ve had a lot of adventures in my life... from the Gambia to Thailand,
China to Italy, New York to Egypt, but sometimes, the most life changing
events happen on your doorstep. I hope you enjoy reading my adventures,
as much as I enjoyed experiencing them...!

It was 2am on a Tuesday evening and I
found myself in my own little world in my own little room. He sprawled
himself across my fur rug, curled his fingers into the tartan blanket
that was draped across him keeping him warm. He stared across the room
at me. “No guy is worth your hassle, until he’s worth it. I’m
here so forget him.. For now.”

It was the most logical thing he had
said all night. And I hated and loved him in equal measures for it because
he was the voice of reason and I hate the voice of reason, because I
want everything in life right now, and if it doesn’t go my way I just
don’t know what to do. Everything in the past that I have put my mind
to I have succeeded but now I’m struggling. With time management,
essential reading, further reading, and the boy; I’m beginning to
doubt my loyalty to anything and everything in my life. There is too
much structure to keep me interested; too many meetings, too many rules,
everything controlled, nothing sporadic. I want to run away and do mad
things; paint a picture with body paint, take the night ferry to France
and watch the sun rise on the other side of the Channel, or for once,
do nothing.

At this point I realised I had been silent
for a good five minutes. But he was miles away. Pursing his lips while
balancing a pencil on his upper lip. His logic filtered through my clouded
thoughts and suddenly I felt I needed some Dutch courage but it was;
too late to go get a drink.

“You need a drink, right?” I hate
those people who read you so well.

“Yes... No... I need an escape.”

“Come with me.”

He grabbed the pack of chocolate digestives,
a bottle of vitamin water and my hand.

“Where are we going?”

“Just wait and see...”

The roads lit up in front of us and the
frosty dew began to cling onto the blades of grass at the sides of the
motorway. We talked about Voltaire and John Stuart Mill and how I really
needed to stop stressing. About boys and girls and the uncertainty of
our future.

We pulled into Liverpool at 3am. The
cobbled streets were littered with people falling out of clubs and gigs
that played jazz into the early hours of the morning. The bitter cold
was clawing its way through my skin and into my bones and the gusty
wind wrapped its way around me, snaking between my legs. But it didn’t
matter. The cold seemed to dissipate as we walked around the street
lamp-lit streets and I began to feel... free.

And then it was 5 am. We hopped onto
the bonnet of his car

“This is what I’ve taken you to see.”

Curled up under the tartan rug we watched
the sun rise above the docking yard. People started getting up and going
to work but we stayed motionless. It was 8am when we decided to head
over to Costa and grab a wake up call.

And then it was back to reality and we
joined the morning traffic jam back to Manchester balancing croissants
and lattes why manoeuvring angry morning drivers.

Liverpool temporarily froze these insecurities,
and as we drove back to the familiar sights my head felt slightly lighter.
That was until I opened my email account and realised I had missed two
meetings that morning.

I put on Mr. Scruff on and disappeared
for awhile.


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