Just two more days left in Chelmsford.
Part of me wants to ring Cardiff University and tell them I won’t be studying there this year after all because I’m sissying out and I’d like to stay home. I want to cry every time I consider saying another temporary goodbye to my friends and family. I’m meant to be a university student now, but I feel like I’m sixteen again and all I should be doing is spending time with friends at the park, going to Smirnoff Ice house parties and worrying about GCSE results . When I imagine waking up in my new room at uni on Sunday morning I want to run up to bed, hide under the duvet and never come out.
The other part of me keeps telling everyone who asks just how much I am looking forward to going back to Cardiff and how I cannot wait for the fresh start. This part isn’t lying either, there is a part of me (quite a big part of me) that is exploding with enthusiasm. I cannot wait to unpack and decorate my new student room, to go out in the city with friends I haven’t seen in ages, to experience my first university house parties (now everyone has moved into second year houses all over Cardiff), to get a job, even to sit surrounded by books in the library studying a brand new and hopefully interesting topic.
And I may be sad summer is over, but I was admittedly a little excited when I had to pull a scarf out of my wardrobe to wear yesterday and even when I left the house with an umbrella.
How one Bronwen can feel so scared and so excited all at one time baffles me.
Blogging Goodbye to Butterflies 