I was thinking a lot about past lives earlier, feeling a distinct feeling of being cut off, for an end of one of my lives. My last life, I was at a university I liked, but I didn’t love. So, around this time, late February last year, I decided to move. Of course, a odd path for a undergraduate but I felt like it was going to pay off in the end. I still do, I love where I am and what I’m doing with my life. It’s almost unreal.

However, those last few days with the friends I once had, linger in my mind like a ghost. I think this is my effort to let go of a few things I hang on to. The thing is, I liked these people, or most of them in the end. Of course, by those last few weeks, the urge to push me away as I continued to talk about getting into Russell group unis and living in a big city must’ve been hard. Excited as I was, I also knew that they would’ve felt betrayed in a sense. Having this friend talk about moving “up”, moving to a place that was known and respected. I admit, it was a bit preconcerted on my part, truthful I knew that this would be hard. Both academically and socially, but I guess I was also searching for the validation of those people to leave them. In a way, I got it with a late night conversation with a friend, where she convinced me to just, go. Not out of malice or her pushing me away, but in the knowledge that I wasn’t happy in myself, with my life. I remember her saying something along the lines of, “if you want to sit here, comfortable for the next two and a half years, that is the choice you make. But you’ll be unhappy by the end, unchallenged and feel like you wasted it.” She was right of course, I think I’d driven myself mad by the end. A true sadomasochist in my own way, I need to be challenged in a way that hurts me enough to motivate myself. By submitting myself to this, I was getting to the sweet spot.

The last time I saw her was the last time I saw any of them, may last year. Severing the tie to hit the high of the sweet spot ecstasy. I wasn’t aware of that being what it was, but it was. It was the three girls of this group, pulling me out of the student union nightclub (it was a small town, that was the best we got). I was crying, realising that this would be the last time I had, this, them. I was also fucking angry at the guy in our group who couldn’t see a use in friendship anymore, cutting me off a few days prior. But that’s another story in its own right I’ll come back to one day. But they all stood with me, outside, hugging me, telling me that’d it’d be ok because I’d be happy and have a great time. I’d make new friends, and I’d keep them, they’d still be there.

After a while, we hugged, said out goodbyes and then I’d had told them to go back inside to enjoy the last night of first year. Leaving me to walk out the gates alone, back to my accommodation. Some strange feeling came over me when I looked back to watch them go. Tears still stained my cheeks, but I was smiling, knowing everything had come to a close. Walking out the courtyard and back to my dorm, I knew something and to this day I wonder if they knew too. That they shared to feeling or it didn’t pass through once.

I’ve never spoken to anyone again, it just never really… happened after that. Nine months of friendship ended one mild night at the beginning of summer. Of course, in this day and age, you could never escape anyone with a semi active Instagram account. Not me, as chronically online as I am. Hell I get recognised from twitter and TikTok now, that’s how online I am. So through pieces that come in the form of an insta story, I know they’re all still friends. They even went on a road trip to Cornwall together this summer. My feelings on them still being friends is a complex one, how do you explain the feeling of removal from a group like that. Then it was like you never existed, never even were. Also because my opinions on this boy are also still just like, “wow what a shit human”, it makes it even twistier. But that’s also not my responsibility to give that opinion anymore. Maybe one day, who knows what will play out. At least for now, it’s almost better if there was no regard to my being. It’s still interesting for me to watch, I mean piecing info together is like a game of boredom I play.

Now, I live a life I love, so you might be thinking why do you give a fuck anyways? But I think when people say to themselves that they don’t care about their own past lives, they do themselves a disservice. Because you need to understand what worked, what didn’t and on some level it’s fun. Like looking up an old classmate online from your first school or just remembering the good stuff. I mean, I got good stuff from it, learning to exist as a human. To go through love and loss, highs and lows. I got to learn that I really enjoy being free to just be, something which I miss while living at home.

I got to live for the first time and through understanding that if I wanted to live how I did, sometimes losing the thing that got you here is the only way to move forward. Also, I lied, I kept one friend. Austin (yes that one, this is the lore linked post) is the one person I could pick up the phone right now and text him something stupid. It wouldn’t feel like time has passed at all. The irony of it being the one guy I thought I would lose before I said I was going, hasn’t left me yet. Yes it might take him 14 hours to reply but he’s busy, and like me shit at replies (sorry diva it’s the truth).

Between the hours of when I got back home to my apartment that final night at and four in the morning, I have no memory of what I did. It doesn’t matter, not really anyways. But I remember deciding around three that the last thing I needed to do was watch the sunrise. Just me alone. So when the time came and the deep blur started to emerge from the pitch black, my hoodie slipped over my head. In my slipper shoes, I walked down the path to the front of the main building the sky lightening as my feet took me. Making it finally to a bench of the front of the main building. The sky wasn’t particularly glorious or anything that would warrant anyone stopping and looking. It was partly cloudy and you couldn’t really see the sun. It was still beautiful and as the world around me got brighter, everything about my life seemed to change in those few moments. As if it all came hurdling together like atoms, creating something new entirely.

In that last early morning light, something that had died with me when I walked out those gates, was rebirthed into a new something. I’m still trying to figure it out, what those somethings mean. What our lives mean. Why I can feel it when the merging of atoms changes my chemistry of my soul. Is it worth the pain in the end? I don’t know. But what I do know is sooner or later it will all change for all of us. Maybe the key to coping with it is to understand that you can’t stop the atoms from colliding, all you can do is hope that the theories turn out real and the experiment works to produce the best result. You may lose some things along the way; you might discover some little miracle. Each time this test is run, I remember the result, because it changed my atoms in that moment. Every iteration getting me where I am today. I also think that it’d be a shame if no test is ever done, that I am this version of me forever. The change will come, the atoms will shoot out eventually, it just is easier on your terms, you get to do the experiment yourself. Arguably, that’s the safest method you’ve got.

There’s this part of me that exists, the deep dark; the fear, the failure, the compounding pressure of expectation. This part of me gets really big this time of year, like it’s slowly part of me that boils up on a loop. December is the worse of it then when I decide that I have had enough, January begins again. But now it is the worst.

I was walking home from my last day of uni and I have to walk across this bridge in London. I thought about just standing there, getting up onto the railing and falling in. I don’t know why, maybe the idea of going home to my parents or the 4 billion assignments I have due… maybe the crippling loneliness I feel. Even though I like being alone, not going out, living my life. Coffee, gym, uni, food, sleep, repeat. I like my cycle, I think.

Before I decided to go to uni, for my second first year, I had an offer for what was my dream school to go straight to second year. Where I am now is objectively the better uni, but I’d restart at 20 and feel… behind. I like where I am, it’s smart, I like the people, I like my ta, I like one of my professors at least. But the logic to why I chose here, instead of the original dream. It came to one thing.

If I lived by the ocean, I have this crippling fear that one day while I was staring out into the sea, I’d walk into the cold waves without a thought. They’d crash over me, claim me, destroy me, never to return to the rocky shore line. My dream uni was by the ocean, a 10 minute bus stop, a 30 minute walk. Maybe I was scared that one night, I’d slip away drunk or sad or something. It would be too easy.

I think if 18 year old me had her way, she’d be there. My mother went to school there, make my parents proud. Then I’d be gone. But she failed her a-levels (practically) and managed to stay away from the sea. The bussing current of London keeps me alive, like it’s my heart beating in the tide of people.

Sometimes I look out onto the thames, thanking a god somewhere (wherever gods may be) a railing keeps me there, up on that bridge. But I don’t know if I’ll ever stop watching the current go by.

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For the sake of this essay, I’m going to call him Austin - yes after Austin Butler (leave me alone, I’m going through it). So this guy was the first guy I really took notice of in class. It was the first week of freshers (if you’re not from the UK, this is the week you get sloshed before class starts - full of lots of clubbing and even more alcohol). Austin was a guy who really struck me as a genuinely nice person, he made sure everyone got involved, etc. Also helps that to me he was decently attractive, tall, and cocky but in a way you could joke about him. So he was on my radar.

As friend groups formed, I slotted in comfortably with 2 people, who I remain friends with till now. Austin kinda hung out around my friend group, but not really. Into October, my 2 friends gained a lot more friends, dropping a few off, etc. Now these new friends lived with the man, so over the course of the next 2 months he fit into a group - a bit of a float, but still would be down to hang out. Because I did a small film course, and he was in this big one, my friends saw him more than I did. Until one day we were out chatting about class and he asked if there was any way he could come to some of my classes, I guess I sold them too well. (Ironic considering I now want to leave). Admittedly, at this point, I was kinda falling for this guy or an idea of him.

You cannot judge me for this. The reason it wasn’t straight, are you into me? Well… he HAD a girlfriend. So I backed off. There were inside jokes with my friends, about how this would be my life. It was fun for me, pinning over a guy I couldn’t have. I think I liked that it stopped me from thinking about a relationship with anyone realistically. In a world where my friends were getting into things far quicker than I could process, this was good for me. No one asked me about my love life, and if I did, I could silently point to Austin, “Maybe him”. Then people would tell me he had a girl. I knew that. But in late November, they broke up.

Long distance, difference in life maybe - I don’t know. He disappeared for like two weeks, and I was worried. But no, he broke up with her. Hallelujah! Right? Well other than the fact I felt bad for both of them, knowing that praying for it wouldn’t help me - I’d silently resign. In October, looking for houses, we were trying to find a fourth housemate. So somehow, I’d been co-oped into asking him, as I think people had this idea we were close. And I guess we were, he’d come to class, and I’d sit next to him, sneaking glances for myself. This man was smart, gorgeous, and made intelligent comments. Austin agreed to be our 4th.

I really shot myself in the chest with that one. If there is one rule at university I was told time and time again, it was don’t commit flatcest. No matter what, don’t make your living situation weird. And I get it, kitchens can be awkward as hell already. So it was a pre-emptive stop to what could've been a rebound.

I couldn’t have him - so it was back to yearning. My poor friends couldn’t hold a conversation without me bringing up Austin. It was bad.

There were glints of potential there, or maybe I’m delusional. Arms guided me over to talk with his other friends, lingering on my back. The way he’d buy my alcohol in the union if I was really nice - something no one else could do. The way he taught me to smoke a cig so it hits the best (sorry mum). One night he turned to me drunk in the club, looking for someone to rebound with, and said “fuck roommates, right!”, after looking at me. I still can’t tell if he was joking.

On their own, they have potential. But it also disregards anything else I knew about our relationship. Austin just flirted with people, with friends, people he liked. He’d ask me if I knew anyone who liked him, and my opinions on girls he thought were cute. Friends stuff, good friends stuff. That I completely chucked out for the few moments I did have with him. Out of context.

I think I had a glimpse of hope, simmering down somewhere. I let it consume me, keep me alive. Interested enough to let my heartbeat pick up every time I saw him. Drive me to go out with my friends when I shouldn’t have. He could ask anything of me and I’d do it. Just to make him happy. Praying that one day he’d maybe do something, say anything.

Promise I will get back to the story, but walk with me. For film class this week, I had to analyse a scene from a film. Something about mise-en-scene writing and the function of shots. Anyways, I choose to talk about this film from Anatomy of a Fall, the 2023 Palme odour winner, and best writing winner at the Oscars last year. There’s this one scene in it that is an argument between this woman and her husband, who she is put on trial for murdering. As you watch this argument play out, it frames the woman as ungrateful and unhappy with her whole life, complaining that she’s just living her husband's wishes. They live in his ideal, not hers, which makes her angry, and depressed. This recording is played out in front of the jury, and the audience. At one point, the scene goes back to the court, and physical violence ensues, but we don’t know who hits who first. Everything to that point has been a subjective imagining of the argument, but then the film lets the audience decide.

Later in the film, the woman is speaking to her lawyer (Swann Arlud - you’re so fine btw, call me lol) (sorry). She says “That call isn’t reality, that’s just one part of it” or something like that. The lawyer goes on to say that here that doesn’t really matter, it makes her present a certain way. “I don’t give a fuck what is reality”, he says - he’s right, it makes her look away to the audience. But so is she, her whole being shouldn’t be judged on one recording. (Please watch this film, it’s so good)

The point I’m trying to make is that I think they’re both right in one sense. She becomes a distorted version of herself in that moment, angry, possibly violent. But the jury, and by extent us, are being asked to judge her on this one conversation. No extra nuance to it (other than what we know about her in the story - but even then it’s not enough to make an assessment either way). But it’s one moment in time. One recording, that makes her look away from us. It’s a genius bit of writing if you ask me.

This idea of Austin that I built in my head, with a glimpse of hope, didn’t exist. It was simply moments I was mixing together in a way that painted the canvas in a certain light. If I used different colours, an entirely different picture could be painted. The meaning would be something else. But by choosing to ignore those other colours, I could make it look how I wanted.

Three days ago, I basically found out that apparently he’s known for a while. Whether this is true or not, I won’t know. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that he feels bad because he has never seen me like that. And he won’t - as painful as that is to say.

So ensued a three-day-long crash-out as people on TikTok or Twitter would say. I got very sad, then because I’m a uni student, very drunk. With friends, alone, on Friday, Saturday, Oscars night. Brandy, wine, cigs, and my parent's gin while they weren’t home (somehow made it home and back in 30 hours). I went to work yesterday hungover.

Today, my body woke me up at 8 am - even though I had slept like 3 hours. Sighed when I saw the Oscar winners - I was too drunk to watch my boys lose. I laid in bed till two pm, just rotting. Then something happened - Fine Line by Harry Styles came on. Now I and this song go back, way back to the first term I completed at a new school, year 10. I hated that term so much, missing my friends from the US, my old home, and my life. That album dropped on the last day I was in, so walking home I listened. Fine Line the song is the last one on the album of the same name, thus the last one I heard. The walk back home from the bus was sunny and cold, but filled with the words “we’ll be a fine line, we’ll be alright.” And in that moment hearing those words, I finally was a bit ok. I wasn’t happy with everything, but as corny as it sounds, it was like Harry was telling me it would be ok. It would all work out.

That song has never failed me, and it has always been this thing I put on if I need a reminder that the world doesn’t end. It keeps spinning, people keep living, and I can move on. I’ll be alright.

I forced myself up when that final note finished, showered and went to get a ridiculously overpriced coffee. Bought myself a nice body spray. Read a bit of She’s Always Hungry by Eliza Clark. Ate some real food (ceser salid and yorget are a great combo). I did the washing. Saw my friend and he gave me that room tour he’s been meaning to do. Worked on my presentation that’s due tomorrow (what’s uni if not procrastinating till the last minute). Had an angel slice.

The moral here is probably something like don’t look past other things just for some details. The picture has to be whole for you to be able to judge it clearly. A life lesson to not become insane over an idea of a person. Also, you probably need to just listen to the right song sometimes.

I promised my friends that I wouldn’t text Austin every single night, but guess what I did. Nothing criminally bad or anything. Last night I sent a drunk voice note asking him to be friends - he’s a pretty cool guy. But don’t tell him I said that, it’ll get to his head.

He agreed and also told me off for getting drunk. I’m not sure when I’ll reply.

Honestly I’m starting this because I saw a tiktok about writing on here and I love to yap at no one. Anyways I think it’d be good for me because sometimes I need to rehash out Greta Gerwig knowing my name again without telling the same people for the 3rd time.

I take a film studies degree course close enough to london where I can spend all my money going to museums and festivals, without living in london. (I love it there but I’d be more broke then I already am). London is really truly my favourite place in the world, it has all my favourite friends and things to do. So I think I’ll talk a lot about that.

My degree is fun, but not challenging me but I’ll try to make it interesting but not pretentious. Count on some Cassavettes talk or something about Coppola (Sofia, who is better in my opinion, sorry). I also had a radio show for a year while I became a human (gap year), so expect music. Lots of music.

I’m still not sure how this will work when I hit publish, but I do hope someone finds it one day and it makes then think. Until then, enjoy the ramblings.

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London: the favoured

University boredom

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