AUTUMN

Everybody has a favourite season.

As in “time of the year”.

Mine is autumn. Some people say that that is when everything ends, you know, wither and die and go to hell or whatever. That’s not true. In autumn, everything prepares for a long, recreational sleep only to awake fresh and better than ever before in spring. 

The seasons are like a day. You sleep in winter, including all the good dreams (Christmas and, in my case, my birthday) and nightmares (winter depression, report cards). You wake up in spring and start the year-day full of energy. Summer is when you’re wide awake and doing all the awesome stuff while the sun is shining and it’s warm enough for tanktops and shorts. Autumn is preparing for bed. 

Preparing for bed means a good film or series, comfy pants and a sweater. Nice dinner. Hot chocolate and a biscuit. Or three. Punch and tea. A fire in the fireplace. The warmest, cosiest duvet imaginable. Autumn is enjoying the last sunshine and watching the leaves turn red. It’s a picnic in the park with thermos bottles and coats. It’s huddling together. It’s red and gold and orange and yellow. It’s that part of a book when everything’s changed but before the part that you love but hate because then everything changes again and gets horrible.

I like preparing for bed. It builds up the expectation for the next day full of adventures and awesomeness.

And yeah, I totally googled for pictures. Sorry.

NOT SLEEPING

You’ve already done fifty sit-ups because your neighbour is throwing a party and you can’t sleep.  The love songs you’re listening to sound horrible with the drumming bass from next door, it’s too warm in bed and you have to be up tomorrow at seven a.m.. Then there’s that idea stuck in your head but the laptop is downstairs and you’re too lazy to get it, plus it’s the middle of the freaking night.

Your hair is kind of annoying you because it kind of sticks to your throat but you can’t sleep with a ponytail. Your blanket is already heated up and your pillow can’t seem to be comfortable.

Of course, you don’t want to wake up your friends by texting. You don’t dare to start to read because then you won’t stop for two hours.

Now the smell of the pen ink makes you nostalgic.

You thought the party was over because it was quiet for at least two minutes but alas, you were wrong and here it goes again. You start thinking about your life, making resolutions you know you won’t keep. You start making plans that will never work out. You start dreaming.

But you still can’t sleep.

You hate everybody who is  asleep right now. It annoys the crap out of you. You almost wrote a page of ranting. Thinking about blogging it.

Uncomfortable position that hurts bad wrist even more than usual.

Melancholy takes over. You almost cry although you don’t really have a reason.

Your handwriting turns from quite neat to horribly messy. Your fingers hurt from clutching that pen. They still smell like chocolate from the chocolate biscuits you made earlier.

You turn of the light, turn over your blanket and make a ponytail.

Good luck.

THINGS THAT ARE SCARY: WHAT COMES AFTER SCHOOL

Hello and welcome to the first edition of a new segment: Scary Things. This time: University.

So, I know it’s a bit early for me to start thinking about that kind of stuff, being only 16 and everything – at least that’s what my parents say. But that doesn’t stop me from being super-worried.

The thing is, I don’t know what I want to do after I finish school in two years. Right now, I just don’t have a clue. I really want to do something that matches my personality and my passions. Which would mean a Bacherlors Degree in Creative Writing.

Yes, that actually exists. I could study it at Birkbeck in London, which is the city of my dreams at all times. The course seems really great and I would really learn a lot. It would help me be better at what I love the most (after eating chocolate): writing.

It’s a four year course, which for me, being sixteen and all, is a really long time. I mean, that’s like a quarter of my life! But then again, when I finish, I’ll only be twenty-two. That’s still so young, I could still go and do everything with my life that I want.

I know that a degree in Creative Writing isn’t a very good career option, but the longer I think about it, the less I actually care. I mean, if I don’t want to trust only luck, it’s the best chance I have to make writing my career.

I’ll just put this out there on the Interwebs. That way I can just recheck my arguments again sometime.

Now, University is scary because it’s such a big step. Although it’s some kind of school, it’s different. For many students, University means moving out of their parents’ place and live on their own. It means student debts and hard work and just so much new stuff thrown in your face.

And as much as I look forward to moving on and have an independent life, really growing up, as of now I can’t imagine being able to handle my life on my own. And that’s what scares me