So I’m counting today, Monday 21st of September, as the first day of my gap year. My year out. The next 365 days run on my choices, my experiences, and in my spare time, this blog.
It’s a shame because today has been kinda weird. I feel like I’m in some sort of weird in-between state. What the ‘state’ is in-between is hard to pin down. I just feel weird. I’ve suddenly become very aware of the pressure that an ’18-year-old-on-a-gap-yah’ is put under- the pressure to earn, the pressure to work, the pressure to become some exotic, well-read, well-travelled adult wannabe. (I’m so against the notion that you become an adult at 18. I can’t boil an egg.) But I also feel strangely free. It’s up to me to sort my life out now, and not be reliant on stress-stained, middle aged teachers that told me how to predict earthquakes but not how to pay bills.
It just all feels very last-minute. In typical Emma fashion I left everything til last minute, deferring my entry the day before I moved in, cancelling my student loan two days before I needed it. And I thought exam stress was bad. The relief, however, was instant. Which I wasn’t expecting. In fact, this decision probably takes the crown for hardest one I’ve ever had to make. I know I’ll look back on it in 10 years time and be like ‘why the fuck were you so stressed emma it was just a year you have your degree you read all those books you were meant to you did it you did it’. And that’s comforting.
Because it is only a year. A year is just a small segment of the big juicy orange that is life. (Totally gonna breeze through my English degree I mean look at that metaphor) Maybe in a year i’ll learn that predicting earthquakes and paying bills are more similar than I thought. Or maybe not. Maybe that’ll come after I’ve studied obscure meanings and even-more-obscure comparisons for three years.
And everything will probably be okay.