I did it, I finished! Three years down, no more to go

One thing I have lacked throughout the last three years is the upkeep of this blog. As an aspiring journalist you would expect it to be high on my list of priorities, but, as a student, a lot of other things managed to rank higher. Namely a lot of drinking, dancing and last minute dashes to get assignments handed in on time. I say the latter as if I wasn’t pretty good at taking my lecturers’ advice of being organised and handing in essays at least 24 hours before it was due. Still, you get my point.

This post isn’t about being a generally quite a rubbish, all over the place blogger, though. It’s actually about the fact there’s one thing I have managed to be consistent with and that’s documenting as each academic year comes and goes. And here’s the last in that little series, because, miraculously, I’m done. Goodbye university, goodbye education. You and me are through. And I’m afraid it wasn’t an entirely clean break-up either; it left me more than a little bit heartbroken. But we can get onto that messy business later.

I’m done. It honestly feels so mad to say that and think, come September, I won’t be making the journey back to London to slave away in the library — and I can tell you third year saw many, many hours spent in that Pinterest-y AF library working my butt off. It turns out it was all worth it, though, because your girl didn’t just get a first in her dissertation, she’s actually graduating with a First Class Honours. Another thing I’m not sure I’ll ever quite get over.

I was never a high achiever in school. For the most part, I performed pretty averagely. It was enough to get me to where I wanted to be — my GCSE results allowed me to do the A Levels I wanted to do just about, and my A Levels got me into my first choice university. That morning in August all those years ago is still kind of a dream to me, so to be graduating from a place I thought I wouldn’t even be able to get into with a First is just… incredible.

I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised, because I’ve worked harder than I ever have in my life at uni, particularly in this last year. It’s nice to know that hard work really does pay off. A lot of my academic life, I’ve felt like good results can come to people who don’t even try so easily, but I feel like I really deserved this and I’m so proud of myself for getting there.

And as much as the end is filled with the happiness that I absolutely smashed it (hells yeah), it also comes with a emptiness in my heart that I’ve had to leave behind a bunch of people who I really, really love and feel so close to. Whilst uni brought it’s fair share of uncertainties and struggles, it also brought some of the best people into my life. I’ve laughed and cried and been an absolute weirdo to my heart’s content without judgement and it’s all thanks to them. They’ve helped me grow and slapped the self-deprecating insecurities out of me. They’ve picked me up in my darkest moments and been a constant force of support and love and I’ll miss them during this time when we’re not so close-by. But I know we all have aspirations to be back in London, or, at the least, in each other’s lives, so that’s okay.

Everything feels sort of odd right now, being back home and feeling as though I’ve been transported back to being a sixth former. I’ve had my weepy stage though, and I’m confident I can get myself to where I want to be eventually. I just need to give myself time and, let’s be real, make the most of cheap living before I hit up the big smoke again.

I said last year that my next post would see me kitted out in cap and gown, but I’ll save that for a future, less ramble-y post. Three weeks today I’ll be graduating — eek!

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