Sat on my bed in my half empty room, in my very empty flat, listening to the radio and waiting for my dad to arrive and take me home. This semester has flown by. One minute I was taking on January exams and celebrating being back in Cardiff after spending a wonderful Christmas at home with the family I’d missed huge amounts. The next I was handing in the last of my coursework and letting my dad know when I wanted him to head over, pick me up and take me home for the Easter break.
Trying to figure out why on Earth I’m so nervous. By this point, I’d usually be overwhelmed by the excitement and I’d be thinking of nothing other than home comforts and hugs from Maggs family members. My closest friends would probably tell me that, seeing as I am permanently nervous about something or other, I shouldn’t waste my time worrying about it. I have a feeling I’m nervous about the fact I have to start revision for the summer exams once I’m home. Perhaps I’m just nervous about changing lives again. It sounds silly, but I’d just got used to living this one. This could even be a delayed reaction to all of the craziness of the last few weeks. This week has been craziest of all. I find it so hard to believe that I’ve just finished the last of my second year lectures, when the last day of first year still feels like only yesterday. I never ever want to be a third year; I am going to spend the entirety of the exam period so torn between wanting the hard work to be over and not wanting the year to end.
If anything I should be delighted I’ve come so far. At the start of this year I had no idea whether I was ready to conquer university by myself or not; I was terrified. Now, I’m so comfortable here I’m not even sure I’m ready to leave. Deep and meaningful musings aside, the last week of term was amazing and home is going to be beautiful. It always is.