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The future

I feel as if I’ve been conditioned to go to university.

Ever since I’ve been a child, I’ve fantasised about these magnificently huge and flourishing buildings standing amongst historically proud trees, where just at a tiny fraction of these trees legs parents would be standing with the same pride and wave their child off. But, of course this “child” wasn’t a child anymore. Oh, no, no, no. This “child” had just entered the age group we like to call adults. Yes, these children were now adults. Big and bold, they no longer had to hold in their dreams in fear of the frightening rein of their parents. They were free. Childhood forgotten, they would step flamboyantly past the threshold and into their dorm rooms where they could sparkle their personality and style onto the sparsely furnished box. And a day in a lecture or tutorial room would be like no other. They were happy. They were free. They were adults. I wanted to be them.

But now, I’m not so sure.

Recently, my sister told me that “unless you don’t get into Oxford or Cambridge there’s no point in leaving London for a university”. Admittedly, I almost cried at the truth in her words. I live in London and for me university represented freedom from this urbanised city. That’s why they always said you “leave for university”, never stay. However, since the rise in tuition fees, the prospect of university has seemed to force distance between me and my dreams.

My sister was and is right. I have a few decent universities which at the most are an hour and a half away. I could just get a yearly travel card and live with my mum for the 4 or 3 years at university. Yeah, it would suck but my mum doesn’t have that 9000 or so pounds needed to get me into university, let alone the money needed to support me while in accommodation rooms. She can barely pay the weekly bills. I don’t ever want to be such a burden to my mum when all she’s ever done is support me. It’s unfair.

See, I’ve always dreamed of supporting my mum financially because, somehow, despite our poverty she never made it feel as if we were never poor. Having five children must have been hard but she tried her best to provide for every single one of us. Where she lacked financially, she was able to make up emotionally. She didn’t need those Ā£20 DVD’s or videos, all she needed was the things we already had at home, like chairs and bedsheets, and she would be able to make a fortress where we would play in the morning. Through the afternoon she would let us play in the park for hours and give us 10p each for ice lollies. By the time we’d get back we would play a game of cards or read a book she had gotten from the charity shop that afternoon. My point is, she had successes and she had some failures, like all of us do, but she never let that get in the way of raising me and my siblings.

I feel like you should know that my sister which made me think about this was my little sister. My 12 year old sister actually ended up talking through it with me, and for the first time, I understand that side of the argument, the side I never dared to look at.

I guess I’ve gone off on a tangent but my point is that I’m scared of the future just as much as I’m scared of the past. I don’t want to be but I am. I feel as if I’m one amongst 7 billion others. I feel as if I’m lost in a crowded world. I feel as if, if I don’t make it in two years I’ll never make it.

“Doubt kills more dreams than failure ever will.”

Let’s just hope I don’t let doubt or fear rule my life, shall we?

Nakedstreetkid out! šŸ™‚

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A starting point

From this website I’m under the impression that you must write. Write to your hearts content!

However, I’m not exactly sure what to write, and therefore what I want to start with. But since my username is staring right at you (I assume), I might as well start writing about that.

My username is nakedstreetkid for no other reason than my (not so) intelligent brain combining two titles, from two books which are laying comfortably on my right hand side. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love J.D Robb’s Naked in Death but the other book – the book that takes up 2/3rds of my username – well, I just haven’t had the chance to read yet. And I know what you’re thinking: why on earth would you essentially name yourself after a book you haven’t even read yet? Why not combine Emma by Jane Austen with The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath to make Emmasbelljar a thing for people to stare at for ages? Forever confusing people as to which one is true. People all over the world will ask either one of two things. Is her name really Emma? Or does she really represent the bell jar that Sylvia Plath so cleverly used to symbolise the suffocating hold that manic depression has on a person? And the answer would be no to both of them.

I am only 16 years old and am somewhat depressed but not to the extent that I can say that I am trapped beneath an airtight fortress that Plath describes as a bell jar. I mean, in the past I have been. Maybe that’s why I read the book so early in my adolescence (when I just turned 13), I could in somewhat way relate to the self-hatred and utter emptiness that Plath played through Esther. Thus making The Bell Jar my coming-of-age story.

Although, I’ve never actually re-read the book. It reminds me too much of my past and not enough of my present or future. Therefore from the action of not re-reading the book in fear of returning to the past should alert you to my now optimistic attitude towards life. And this fact should lead you to the conclusion of the nature of my former (and current) depression. It is not one of sheer pessimism but of realism (coupled with threads of pessimism). Yes. The daunting realisation of the human races need to crush and oppress the ones that have not conformed to societies infrastructure of social and ethnic hierarchy. Which of course we all somehow fit into. Whether we like it or not.

And there’s the reason for my once spiralling depression.

Primarily it was the stereotypes (mold, if you will) that humans have embedded deeply into societies foundation that scared me the most. But, with organisations such as NUS (national union of students) or videos on youtube such as downtownpatrol, there were now solutions to my problems. And my all too realistic/pessimistic view on the world morphed into optimism.

I know what you’re thinking! No, it’s not like I have drowned myself in naivety and innocence. Of course not. In order for things to change you must be realistic about the problems in the world, but to attempt to change you must be hopeful and confident that change can happen.

Is that the conclusion of this blog entry? Well, I believe it is. My english teacher has always told me to plan but I decided to delve right into this and just try it out. Next time I make a post, I will try to plan the beginning middle and end (but like Sarah Kay said someone else said “not necessarily in that order”). Maybe I’ll try to use my punctuation far more wisely than I have today but, well, I need to experiment before I get things right.

So, if you’re looking at my blog for the first time and see this entry just know that I want to experiment with my writing. So it won’t all at once be amazing. I will have mistakes. But I prefer to make mistakes early on rather than later in the future when things begin to matter to me.

Thanks for reading. Nakedstreetkid out! šŸ˜‰