I think I was pretty cynical that nothing would have changed in the past three hundred and sixty-five days — or close enough, anyway. But, actually, a lot has. Perhaps not in the physical sense. In this current moment in time I am still very much single and I find myself always secretly hoping to myself that that’ll be what’s different within the next year, but it’s still just me and, surprisingly, that’s very okay with me. The hopeless romantic in me hasn’t packed up and left by any means, but certain mentalities of mine have changed and, to be honest, there hasn’t been all that much room or time for me to even stop and obsess and cry over my loneliness. That’s probably because I haven’t been all that lonely.
2015 has been one of the best years of my life. I think the last time I sat back and genuinely thought that was a very long time ago. With the confusing years of adolescence and the gruelling last years of secondary school and sixth form, it kind of took the fun out of what should have probably been some pretty wild years. And then the trepidations of starting university happened and I held myself back. But I’ve said all this — and then some — before. Second year was incredible though and, with that, third year continues on a similar high, even if I am so bloody busy. (Past Alice, you made me laugh and grin like a maniac at those comments about dissertation. It’s real and it’s here to stay until May third!) I’ve got an amazing group of friends that are a constant force of support, who make me laugh and bare absolutely no judgements (in less its at the expense of an excellent joke, of course).
And me? How am I? Something happened at the beginning of 2014 that really triggered something in me, and that perhaps leads on to the changes I was beginning to see in myself this time last year; the ones I talk about in your (my?) letter. Those differences have only continued and I’ve grown tenfold. Honestly, sometimes I feel like a completely different person. I’m stronger and happier in myself. There are bad days, but, more often than not, they don’t outweigh the good. I find myself caring less about artificial things, especially when I’m surrounded by people who stop me before I can say anything bad about myself. What’s more, I’m in a far more confident place. I assert myself more into situations and surprise myself regularly, because there are things I have done and said this year that I couldn’t or wouldn’t have dreamed of doing a year ago, let alone two. I believe in myself and, okay, it sounds a little cheesy or maybe melodramatic… I don’t know. But I don’t hate myself anymore. I love who I am and what I stand for. And I’m starting to see that the skin I’m in isn’t all that bad either.
Wow, this is mushy. I’ll let 2016 Alice take the wheel on this one now. I hope you’ve got a job and you’re not living on the streets… And (same incentive as the last letter) you’re not pregnant. Live it up singing ’22’ by Taylor Swift, that’s all I ask.