In September I head to London to do my Masters degree but I’m really nervous about going. I don’t know if it’s the right decision. Already in life, I’ve made so many mistakes – I can’t afford to make more! Unfortunately we don’t always know what the right path is. Life doesn’t necessarily give us a clue, there aren’t always big, glowing “right way!” signs to stop us making stupid, irreversible mistakes.
I’ve always wanted to live in London – not forever, just long enough to say I was there. And this year is really my only opportunity to do that… I just worry. Because I have limited finances, I’m technically going to be homeless in the big city. But really that would apply anywhere. And I can’t stay where I am now, that’s not an option. I have to move somewhere, it may as well be London.
But I worry…
What if I fail my Masters course and end up financially and emotionally broke with nothing to show for it?
What if I hate the basic accommodation I’m gonna be sharing with 50 other people and I go insane?
What if I don’t make any friends and remain lonely?
What if I can’t find work to find around my studies?
What if I burn out from trying to work and study?
What if this path eventually leads me to being a broke, old, crazy cat lady who lives in a shed and tells people “That was the moment I ruined my life!”?:gulp:
What if I never meet anyone like… him… again?
I threw away a sort of great beginning with a guy to do this move. Now, to be honest, I have no idea what his long-term plans were and whether they involved me. He was really sketchy about things – which is probably a clue that no, I was not a part of his plans. But I wish I hadn’t dropped the “moving to London” bomb on him so soon, maybe he took that the wrong way like I didn’t want him in my life.
I have a lot of unanswered questions about him which will forever remain unanswered. I’d never felt so much for a guy, I was so protective of him – not jealous, I mean I cared about his well-being (whereas my other boyfriends I used to silently wish would choke on their food).
I don’t think I’ll ever see him again. Maybe that’s good. Maybe he was an asshole in disguise. Maybe he would have ruined my life. I mean would I really have wanted to be his wife and live with him in Punxsutawny, Pissville forever? Cause I know he wasn’t geographically adventurous like me and I know his views on women were kinda “traditional”. Ahh, I don’t know. And I’ll never know.
And that’s another thing that’s got me worried. Did I just throw away the best thing that had ever happened to me cause of some stupid dream of being a computer scientist in London? Am I crazy? Or am I actually not crazy at all and doing exactly what I’m supposed to do?
Maybe THIS is the path that leads to true enlightenment and I’ll find myself a happy, loved old lady telling people, “That was the best decision I ever made!”
I have no freaking idea! And it’s driving me crazy! I need a sign, dammit!
Roughly a year from today, I’m either gonna be graduating from my Masters and feeling pretty good about the future… or I’m gonna be fucked! It’s really a coin toss right now…