I had a bit of a funny thing happen today. We’d got the marks back for our English coursework—well, most of us, not Carrie, ’cos she was “ill” again—and everyone was in the common room feeling pretty happy ’cos we’d all done fairly well. So, everyone was chatting about grades and Manpreet had got an A and Josh had got an A and I’d got a B and Sonia had got an A and Uma had got a C and everyone was just chatting away about what that meant and what grades this might mean for the future and about jobs in offices and getting a smart suit for uni interviews and suddenly I started feeling really weird ’cos I was the only one not talking and I realized I was the only one who didn’t really care.
I never admitted it to anyone but I suddenly realized I don’t care about going to uni. I suddenly realized the thought of carrying on studying as hard as this for loads more years was making me feel as trapped as that time I was parked around the back of Bishop Fledding Industrial Estate looking at a pile of rubble that Wesley wanted me to live in with him forever.
I don’t want to feel trapped like this. I want to feel like I did when I stood on Waterloo Bridge in London among all the crowds and the traffic and the gargoyles and statues when I looked along the river and felt properly blown away and excited and free and like anything was possible. I think I’m due for my period. I’ll feel better tomorrow.