Adulting is weird

A bit of light reading at university, I suppose.

When you're ten, no one tells you just how hard being an adult will be when you grow up; hence it becomes something that you wish for with all your heart (stupid stupid stupid). But let me tell you, it feels like being thrown into a bottomless sea (actually make that an ocean) of self-doubt and problems - head first, mind you, with your hands tied behind your back (obviously). 

I guess it comes as no surprise to most people, considering most of my friends and acquaintances are older, and arguably have bigger and more worrying problems than I do (they probably do, if we are brutally honest), but I am young and overwhelmed by pretty much everything.

At the tender age of nineteen, I never imagined that I would shy away from the challenge of finding a house to live in next academic year (uni is completely another bag of marbles, let me tell you); it is always one of those things you wish for when your parents get a bit too annoying with the chores, or when they don't respect your privacy. In hindsight though, I have to admit, living with my parents was the easiest time of my life.


Bare in mind, someone cooks for you (at least most of the time), they do your laundry and ironing (again- most of the time), they look after you, ask about your day and most of all, there is always someone there when you come home after a difficult day. I never appreciated that last one until I had to call my mum at 11pm because I was so homesick whilst 3 hours away from my hometown at uni.

I don't really know where I am going with this, but adulting just sucks big time. If I could turn back time and go back to the days where I complained about being grounded or having too many chores to do on a Saturday afternoon, I would in a heartbeat. Don't get me wrong, I love the autonomy I have living alone at uni, away from home, I love coming home at midnight after seeing a wonderful play in the west end with friends or even just having a mate come over in the evening for dinner without having to consult with my parents. But nothing will ever be the same from this point on, really. As an adult you're held to a higher standard, but in all honesty, the only difference between being an 'adult' at eighteen and a teenager at seventeen, is those few precious months.

Anyway, I will get this housing situation sorted. I will also attempt to be a better adult, getting all my uni work sorted on time (good god, I can never manage that one). I definitely will be a better friend, more reliable and mature; I am sorry to all my friends who have to deal with my mood swings from time to time. I promise I will complain less and be better to be around.

So I raise a tea toast to you all, and urge you to prolong your childhood as long as you can (really, even take a gap year if you can to stay home that extra year. That one was a joke; I'm not much of a funny person though, so I guess it fell a bit flat.)

Tara for now.


PS: I do realise this is such a convoluted post considering its my first one, but let's just go with it. I did not plan on making a blog, if I am brutally honest. But clearly, I'm narcissistic enough to want my thoughts to be heard (or should I say read.)


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