Firework Failure

Tonight was my second meeting at the new Guide unit I’ve started helping at since moving to University. I don’t like it there. It’s the first time in my life where I feel like Guiding doesn’t accept me. I’m supposed to be a leader, but I’m treated more like a Guide. I wasn’t introduced to anyone, and I don’t feel like the leaders want to interact with me, which leaves me in rather an awkward position. For the past thirteen years, Guiding has always been the one place that I can be myself, but it doesn’t feel like that anymore, and that’s rather sad.

What we did at Guides tonight, was go for a walk to spot fireworks. We didn’t see many fireworks. I’ve probably seen more fireworks on snapchat story this evening than I saw in real life. What we did, however, was walk out to the viewpoint over the city.

And damn, was it beautiful. Sadly, the camera on my phone didn’t do it justice, so I won’t disappoint by uploading the photo. Up on top of the hill, looking down into the valley of the city, I could see for miles and miles. A misty yellow haze of light pollution enveloped row after row of street lights. Flickering bedroom lights could be seen, and occasionally, the break lights of a car would punctuate the view. The abbey was bright, and right in the middle, lit by the lighting I have so often seen on the floor. Everything seemed so close, and yet, from where I was stood, it was so peaceful. In the distance, up I could see cars pass up over the main road on the hill, yet aside from the occasional bang of a pretty firework, and the squeals of giggling guides, it was silent. Nobody else seemed to appreciate it, too distracted by the cold and their torches, and so I stood, alone, and soaked up the moment of escape.

I glanced up, the sky was clear, and I could see several stars. I picked out the brightest, and I made a wish.

My feet now numb and my hands like ice, we headed back for a hot chocolate. Perhaps I seemed a little distant to those around me, but I was still mesmerised, thinking about the view.

I’d like to go back, in the daytime, but I’m sure it wouldn’t be the same. I’d like to show my best friend, when she visits in January, but I’m not sure I’d remember how to get back. I’m not sure if she’d think I was crazy.

It’s awesome how something which when you are in it feels so big, can look so small from above. Maybe there’s a lesson I should take from that. I’m not sure.

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