I have a scrapbook to record my first year at University. I’ve done a page each week since I got here, and whilst I still need to add a few photos, it’s coming together rather nicely in a very cute fashion. I was really excited to show the girl who bought it for me when she visits next week.

And then last night I filled three pages with what can only be described as a grim essay. It was nothing to do with university, just something that I’d been thinking about all day. It upset me several times yesterday, and I just needed to get it out of my brain. I was going to blog about it, but for some reason, I opened the scrapbook and wrote it in there instead, accompanied by a couple of drawings.

Now, I regret it.

I don’t want to show her anymore, when she comes. I will, I have to, but it won’t be the fun experience of sharing my first semester that I wanted it to be. I’m angry at myself. But I just had to let it go, and so I let it go in the only way I know how. I wrote it down. But that doesn’t make it go away, does it? I’m going to have to look at it again, and it’ll be next week, when she’s by my side.

It’s a shame, because what was a pretty scrapbook now really isn’t.

Oh well, it’s done, I can’t take it back, so I must try and use my new positive attitude and look forward to the impending exams, and the more enjoyable things that will happen when she visits.


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