Write what I know. What do I know, exactly? What have I learnt so far? I feel like this is a difficult one because, while I've had my fair share of life experiences, I'm also quite young. I'm sure my Mum would have a lot more to say when it comes to write what you know than I will do. But anyway, we shall try. I'll start with the surface stuff, and see if that helps me delve any deeper. I might even find a couple of stories in there to tell...
- Grew up in S from the ages of 6 months until 15 years. I'm sure there was a lot I learned while I was out there about the history about S and the area surrounding it, but I can't remember a lot. I think, also, I was very privileged while I was there. I didn't live or hang out with local people - I was only half submerged in the culture, while also being half submerged in Brit culture from my Mum and Dad. One thing I do know, I guess, is about living in a warm climate and going to a lot of countries.
- Moved back to the UK at the age of 15 years. It was hard, hard, hard, and further made me realise my privilege; suddenly high school wasn't teen drama and who-likes-who, and what shall we do on a night out when we can roam the streets of a metropolitan city - no, it was, this person has no Dad, this person lives with a group of foster kids, this person has anorexia and another one actively self harms. God damn, it was awful, and I didn't have a tribe anymore.
- So I left, didn't I? I didn't want to put myself through it anymore, and my privilege raised its head again and said 'I can pay for you to go to a school in a castle' - and I went... I went because I could and it was the best thing to do for my own mental health. Here I found what I was looking for, the friends that I wanted, the multiculturalism I had been missing. But, and this I think is somewhat crucial, I was happy - which was almost a problem because I went from constantly writing and pouring my heart out onto a page, into not really writing at all. In fact, I kind of coasted... and then I didn't really stop. Until this year, I believe, until 2019 at the age of 24 when I realised I'm not going to be a kid by the end of the year. Mid 20s is not childish, you don't get the perks, and so I need to grow up and use whatever privilege I've got left as a young person before it's gone forever and I disappear into the abyss of everyday life.
- What next, then? Oh yes - University. English, Drama, nights out, meeting Ry (who is still with me, sitting behind me playing on his computer and chatting to his friends as I write this). What did I learn here... that sometimes hard work is necessary, and that University is a bubble that exists outside of real life, and there are young people that decide not to go there. Having a degree will not guarantee you come out the other side with an amazing job, or even a job in the field that you want to be in. That being an artist is hard. That there is such a thing as a quarter-life crisis, and I definitely have had moments of one. Again, I was happy. I didn't write nearly as much as I should have done in the three years that blurred past, a mix of drinking, eating badly, and wasting a lot of time that I'll never get back.... But it wasn't really wasted, because I know better now, and I can do better now. I can do better, and I am making progress.
- Then it was work... work is hard, but again, it's just about finding that balance. It's about knowing that there are other things that you can do around work - and that work should be the thing that you organise around the stuff you actually want to do, rather than the other way around. I will never let the job that pays the rent take over from the things I really want to do, at least until I'm working in the thing I care about, and writing to put bread on the table in a creative way, fingers flying across the keyboard the way they are doing at the moment. Fifteen minutes was all I was given, but somehow I have managed to express more than I ever thought I could, just by exploring what's happened so far. 'Cause thats the big thing. So far.
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