Bat Wings and Mortar Boards.

I am on the threshold of entering "The Real World." It's an exciting but slightly daunting feeling; a bit like jumping into a dark room and not knowing where I'll end up. University has probably been one of the best decisions I've made in spite of me not wanting to go in the first place. It's been an interesting experience but one thing I can definitely  say about it, is that university is not fun and games. Well, it is if you want to fail.

First year can be daunting.

First year: This was the worst by far. I can only describe it as a goldfish being put in a tank full of sharks. Funny enough, everyone also drank like fishes and it's something I've never got used to. Culturally it was a shock as well. London is very multicultural; I'd gone from a Sixth Form that was around 70-80% black to a pretty much vanilla landscape. People thought I was ghetto because I was a Londoner with a strong south London accent.  I was shy, I didn't really know what to do in general. It was weird as I'm from quite a close family so I'd never been by myself before. For the first time, in my life so far, I missed south London. And I never thought that day would come. My lack of confidence meant that  I struggled academically and at one point I seriously considered dropping out. People judged me because I wasn't "well-spoken", I had to do compulsory modules that I genuinely hated and didn't see the point of it: but credits are credits ya know! I did, however, meet people who have become my closest friends and still are to this day. Regardless of homesickness and  feeling like a shitbag, I persevered and passed 1st year. And was deeply content with the fact that I'd never see 85% of people from first year ever again.

Second year: This was the best year because I realised that university is an experience you need to take advantage of. It was the nice, comfy middle year and definitely compensated for the blue funk that I was in for my first year. I spent the summer with a sense of reluctance: Would I have weird flatmates again? Turns out, my fears were largely unfounded. I was in a flat with foreign students and we all got on like a house on fire. I did modules that I chose and enjoyed studying. I've always enjoyed studying (geek alert!) so for me, everything had sorted themselves out. I was in a very good place. 

That summer I had a job which forced me to come out of my shell and it truly worked. I always believe in facing your issues head on to get it over and done with. It's scary at first, but you quickly realise that you either sink or swim in such situations. And I needed to swim like a fierce shark. I almost shat myself on my first shift but turns out I did way better than I thought. This job taught me to stand my ground, assert myself and get things done no matter what. And I did. Personally, academically, emotionally and it paid off. I threw myself into my studies, extra activities and regained my old fiery spirit. Rwoar! Oh and I passed. 

After exams and library sessions, we look like this.

Third year: In one word: Challenging. My final year was on some next level (do pardon my Colloquial English there!). You realise that this is the year to redeem any previous fuck-ups or blips, it's everything to play for grades-wise. Everyone I know knuckled down and instead of partying, we arranged sessions in the library. 'Cuz we're mad, bad literary bards. Final year also saw the return of my infamous south Londoner ways: I went back to how I was and didn't care if I got judged for it. Allow it, it's who I am. In such trying times, you realise who is and isn't your friend, who you need and those who are there for show. It's a fire of baptism on many levels. I spent most of my days in a routine which consisted of: gym, library, canteen, library cafe, home, dinner, bed. At one point the only people I stayed in contact with were my professors, dad and nan, Dominoes and my best friend. Final year's  hard because you take it so seriously and it's what you've been preparing for: the end. Like a smooth panther ready to sink its jaws into the succulent flesh of its unsuspecting prey, you want a hearty reward for your efforts. Why? Because you know you deserve it. 

The past three years have been a series of highs and lows, tears and moments where my triumphant cackle has made its infamous appearance. University is not easy and for people who say that it is are deluded. In fact, they can come and do my degree for me all over again. For the outsider looking in, university appears to be easy. Three years on your own, a fat student loan and everyone gets a place. All I can say to that is "no mate." It's not about getting wasted every single night. Eventually you have to choose between opening bottles or opening your books. You learn how to live on your own, manage yourself and you learn things about yourself as well. Eg: whenever I get stressed, I blitz and clean everything in sight. It's safe to say that university is not for everyone even though everyone is told that "you must go to university once you finish school." 

Do it only if you are committed and fully prepared to undergo years of studying one topic in depth. It is an experience that acts as the first step that eventually comes together to pave a unique path. And that path is yours.