"All I need is a bitter song, to make me better"
I was in somebody else's flat surrounded by snobby third years who whispered as they held their drinks gingerly in their hands. I overheard one of the girls who was wearing a trendy chunky necklace lean over to her girlfriend and not-so-quietly ask, "who exactly is she?"
"She's a fucking legend, she is," AJ shouted to her. "She doesn't know it yet, but everybody knows who she is. She has made quite the name for herself. Every morning, or should I say afternoon, I see her downstairs hungover from the night before with her fag in one hand a mug of tea in the other. Always wearing the make-up from the evening before she can barely stand when she talks to me and I know she has had yet another classic night. Isn't that right, Sam?"
I take a swig from my vodka and lemonade and focus on the word "legend" for a moment.
"Indeed. That would be me. Crazy, loud, obnoxious, American Sam. You can't fucking miss me."
**
These days I'm mostly found in my room, clutching my side that has had a permanent cramp on the right side from all of my coughing. I became ill again and have been out of commission for almost an entire week. I'm sure everybody has thought that I've died or something. It's strange, but I don't miss going out every night either. I'm mostly pining over Virginia and prefer to sit in my room watching Gilmore Girls online while I go through photos from back home. I listen to a lot of music that I used to cruise to all the time in my car and daydream about being back in the townhouse. I'm craving the American air again, I want to see all of my friends and family and I'm dying for a hamburger from Five Guys.
It doesn't appear to be happening anytime soon though. While I thought I would be going back home for Easter for about two and a half weeks, Momma told me no since she thought it would be a bit pointless for me to come home only to stay here until June and then fly back to the states. I'm a little depressed since I was really looking forward to it and really annoyed with Momma. It's not a good feeling, this homesick feeling and it kind of makes you want to throw up every fifteen minutes if only to get rid of the nausea that seems to constantly be in my system.
I got a job, only to lose it three hours later. I suppose asking the store if I could borrow a pair of shoes to wear until the end of my trial shift wasn't a good thing in my manager's eyes. I should have been prepared and wore shoes that were comfortable and I knew I could stand in for six hours. She said that she would call me back, but that was a week and a half ago so I'm guessing she either found somebody who has shoes that she approves of or I was just shit all together at greeting people when they walked in and tidying up the front of the shop.
Instead I applied for two other jobs, one which is another bar job. I vowed that I would never have another bar job, but desperate times call for desperate measures and as we all know, beggars certainly cannot be choosers. Apparantly they're quite desperate for work too so hopefully we can work out some kind of deal.
My first year of uni has been a mental joy ride without a safety belt. It seems like I've lived seven different lives all in a compressed amount of time. I've met so many different people and have seen so much of London so quickly I'm finding it hard to sort through all of the memories and put them in chronological order. I do remember the beginning when we were all shy and still in the process of getting to know each other. I remember once the ice was finally broken we hit the night life scene hard and came out on the other end practically dead and on the verge of a mental breakdown. It was crazy but I pushed the limits and know just how far my body can go. Now we're all poor trying to scrap enough money together to buy the essentials: tea bags, milk, sugar, bread, butter and fags. We spend most of our evenings in, watching films and talking about life back home as if we were war vets. We get letters from family members, care packages with little bits of our past lives and wonder when we'll be able to feel the familar roads beneath our feet again.
I think about the city and remember when I was working in Corporate America. I hated it, but I was good at it. I wonder if I'll go back. If I do I know I'll just go back to daydreaming about the city that I love. I'll think about the London boys with grungy clothes and skinny jeans or the girls with the funky hoop earrings and flat ballet shoes. I'll miss the tube and all of the different pubs that I've sat in while a football match has been playing in the background. I'll definitely miss the night scene and all of the gay bars and indie clubs that have local bands play. I'll miss my flatmates and our endless late night conversations and all of the times we pop downstairs for a fag at two or three o'clock in the morning. I know I'll miss walking around alone with my iPod blasting music in my ears and staring at all of the different people that pass me by.
There's just so much.
I've done a lot of living, but I wish I could have done more. My coursework is piss easy which leaves me with a lot of time on my hands. During the day I normally sleep or hang out in the kitchen and it is the evening when things begin to happen. It's our life that we live all together. It's our story that I've watched unfold before my eyes. I don't know if anyone else would give two shits about our story, but to us it's amazing. We are the different characters all from different places that have come together and instantly bonded while sorting our futures out. Uni is just something that happens in the background as we grow and learn how to live with each other and change into (hopefully) well-rounded people.
Our first year is ending though and it's fast-approaching. We're being forced to look into the future and get things set up for round two of our uni lives. It sucks, really. We've become so comfortable in our uni bubble. The cushion that we have for ourselves is a pot of gold and nobody really wants to leave. In the back of our minds we all secretly hoped that this would be it for us.
I can feel myself being pulled back though. Back to my life in Virginia. I can hear Momma's voice. I see her face all the time. It's like I'm in a big pool full of old memories and I'm slowly drowning in them and the deeper I sink the more vivid and often they flood my mind. The light fades as I continue to fall to the bottom, my chest tightens and it becomes hard for me to breathe. I close my eyes and even though I'm under water I still cry and can feel the tears roll down my cheeks.
I'll keep on waiting. The day will come when I return back to Manassas and be rejoined with everything that is known and familar. Until then I'll have to press on here and learn how to properly take care of myself, stand on my own two feet and learn how to survive completely on my own in London. I have to soak it up now since I know that when I do go back home I'll be wishing I was back here listening to the London rain tap on my window and living in my uni bubble.