I've missed you since we met

1.

One thing you should know about me, is that I can present things as slightly more dramatic than they truly are. Then however, I really couldn't believe it had really happened. 
You know that certain feeling when a very sudden and overwhelming happiness transforms into a nauseating and unsettling sensation that tells you something will sabotage the unreal contentment you for moment felt like you had in your hands, fully, so that nothing could take it away from you? For the past days I had  been more or less consumed by that exaxt feeling.

My mind was all over the place, I was stirred with all kinds of emotions. This incredible opportunity was in my reach, my dreams were as close as they had ever been, but it was also the perfect way to humiliate myself in front of a crowd probably much more talented and fitted for this pick than me. Maybe it was foolish, but I couldn't help but imagine a group of British children in identical suit jackets and navy shirts. Except they weren't kids, they were small people with adult faces and backpacks too big for their fragile bodies. They were all elegant in their movements, but condescending in their look towards me. But that would be the easy way. In reality they were all probably well mannered young adults from private schools, prepared for this thing their whole life. Who was I to even consider competing with them? I felt so small, incompetent, scared. For a while I felt like a hypocrite, remembering all the convincing speeches I had held about state schools not being worse than private ones, and about how "determination and hard work are the key to success, not a rich daddy". But I felt hopeless. What if I had neither?

"Laura, get down here" a slightly confused yet very commanding voice yelled. Mom was going out of her mind helping me pack. Sharply I turned around to face my door, getting caught into a pile of flannels and falling onto the floor. I took my time, lazily steering down the stairwell. Out of nowhere I started to think about all the free time I would get after taking the course. Dad most certainly already had plans for some of the days, but I wasn't so sure of what I would be doing there, alone. There were mixed feelings all the way.

Mom turned violently when she heard my footsteps approaching and gave me that examining look from top to toe that the teacher gives you after coming late for the fourth time the same week, before adding "Why are you out of breath?". "I just ran up to my room and then back down when you called for me", I lied. I think, because to be honest I wasn't sure. I felt a bit awkward and kind of drowsy, but it wasn't something unusual. "Anyways, what did you want from me?" I curiously asked stepping a little back from the frowning silhouette still following me with her eyes. "I thought you could use some extra money when you're away, cause you know, you never know when you're going to have a whole week off in London again considering you might be studying later." In a matter of seconds her face had magically transformed itself from a strict headmistress' face with several wrinkles of confusion and suspicion, to a contagious smile of a loving mom who is tired, but still stays up worrying about other peoples' problems. While sometimes strict, and furthermore very realistic in her opinions, my mom was the most considerate creature one could possibly meet. Her brown - turning grey - curls fell down onto her glasses as she went on to open some mail. I really wished she could go with me and dad. I went through the phase where I used to think it was really cheesy to be friends with your parents, but I always treated them like that. Not everything had been easy and perfect, but my rlationship with my parents stayed strong, and I never imagined it could have ever been any different. Ever since my birthday I felt like something was going to drive me away from them, against my will, but inevitably. 

I think I was sorting the clothes I was going to take on the trip, probably arguing with myself about wheter the blue and white striped shirt, or the red checkered flannel were better for an evening tea where I could accidentally bump into a tall english lit major. I remember geting a really good feeling. Like just a regular gut feeling that says you're about to do something terrific, without revealing exactly what, so that you would keep searching for it. The feeling faded quickly. I don't exactly take pride in it, but I am as good at killing the mood as at making things up. I was probably just so nervous I imagined something that wasn't there. My friend Therese always told me that I was very good at making stuff up, and it made sense. I loved reading, drowning in an alternate reality, trying to understand people completely different from me, hearing the ravishing words on pages, seeking meaning, seeking interpretation and most of all understanding. My love for books and writing was mostly what drove me to go on this trip. Applying for Cambridge was a huge step for my socially awkward self, but I was ambitious, at least I liked to believe it. And now all of this was going to happen. I really never behaved so enthusiastically besides when talking about books and it felt weird to be so happy, but it was probably a good change compared to the emotionally unstable, partly melancholic and definitely somewhat pessimistic everyday self.

As the evening came, it all started to sink in. Alone, silently, I sat on the porch and kept all the sparkly and loud happiness under a curtain of i don't know exactly what - i told myself it was responsibilty. Boring. The longer I sat, the more I thought, and  I started to become more convinced I shouldn't be surprised it had all happened. There hadn't been a time where I wouldn't be considered a nerd. I used to be naive too, and this thought felt like the last part of my naiveness trying to release itself from me. For a couple of minutes I had let myself think about how people had used me, manipulated me and thrown me back and forth after their willing for years, and how maybe this was some sort of meaningful and destined reward from the universe. Wishful thinking was what it was, sure, but I shed a tear and felt like someone invisible was hugging me from behind. It felt good to believe in something so surreal and comforting, it was almost as good as if it had been real. How good it disappeared before I became attached. It didn't belong there, even if it felt sympathetic. Admittedly, I never felt I belonged either. I never seemed to fit in, mostly just felt boring, unnecessary, a burden. I knew a handful of people who were interesting to talk to - and most of them only for half an hour, but, over time it felt more like it was me who wasn't very appealing to the crowd. Now I felt confident in that something good was coming my way. I just didn't know how different it was from what I had thought.

Authors note

Well, there is the first chapter of my first ever book. It wasn't long and kinda plain and boring, but it's just the beginning.  I hope you will enjoy reading it, and I would love to hear what you think!!

Have an amazing day wherever you are!!

Maria:)