Thursday, August 25, 2005
Time Time Time, See What's Become of Me
I got my GCSE results 9 years ago. I seem to remember 'celebrating' by sitting in a darkened room reading Sylvia Plath and hating everybody. I didn't feel that my exemplary grades were anything good - all they did was guarantee me a further two years of public school bullying hell.
2 years later, I was in the tallest hotel in the world, in Singapore, drinking cocktails over my A level results. Free, and getting happier, and making my way to recovery.
And four years after that, just three years ago, I was drinking champagne from the bottle with thirty or forty freinds, waving our degree results around and loving every moment. That was the night I met Him and my life changed forever.
I look back now and I think: if I knew then where I'd end up by taking this path, would I still have taken it?
2 years later, I was in the tallest hotel in the world, in Singapore, drinking cocktails over my A level results. Free, and getting happier, and making my way to recovery.
And four years after that, just three years ago, I was drinking champagne from the bottle with thirty or forty freinds, waving our degree results around and loving every moment. That was the night I met Him and my life changed forever.
I look back now and I think: if I knew then where I'd end up by taking this path, would I still have taken it?
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I know what you mean. It's funny, isn't it?
I remember spending most of GCSE Results Day crying, then going out looking like a bargain basement Lauren Laverne in Kenickie (glittery make up, lime green sparkly sleeveless poloneck, suede miniskirt, choppy blonde hair with plastic hair clips - I remember it like it was yesterday), drinking cheap cocktails til I vomitted. Then crying some more.
It's only recently that I am accepting and maybe even a tiny bit glad about everything that's ever happened to me because now here I am. The bad drugs, crap sex, ugly haircuts, unrequited crushes, home piercings and miserable nights out seem rather...sweet, really.
Oh God, I'm going to shut up now before I find myself bursting into a rousing chorus of 'Anna Friel is a Lesbian'...
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I remember spending most of GCSE Results Day crying, then going out looking like a bargain basement Lauren Laverne in Kenickie (glittery make up, lime green sparkly sleeveless poloneck, suede miniskirt, choppy blonde hair with plastic hair clips - I remember it like it was yesterday), drinking cheap cocktails til I vomitted. Then crying some more.
It's only recently that I am accepting and maybe even a tiny bit glad about everything that's ever happened to me because now here I am. The bad drugs, crap sex, ugly haircuts, unrequited crushes, home piercings and miserable nights out seem rather...sweet, really.
Oh God, I'm going to shut up now before I find myself bursting into a rousing chorus of 'Anna Friel is a Lesbian'...
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