1/160s | f22 | 27mm | Shadow self-portrait at Isle of Skye.
Since my last entry, I've moved to a dodgy part of London, returned to university for my final year and commiserated my 23rd year on this planet - in that order.
At one point during the house-hunting period, it struck me just how unsettled and uncertain my life was (still is). I don't necessarily mind not settling down; there's just something about moving within London that's depressing - I resent the ridiculously high rent and the amount of time one has to spend commuting within the city. And I fear that I might get used to all that.
University is a 3-day-week affair. I may seem to have a lot of free time on my hand but what with coursework and final year dissertation hanging over my head, it's hard to feel relaxed. I worry that I'm not getting things done at the pace I want.
I used to tell my lady friends that age is just a number to let them know that it's OK to turn a year older (again). That's partly true; it is just a number, but at a certain age, certain things are expected of you. Like how at 23, you're expected to be solely responsible for all aspects of your life. It's not exactly an apprehension for adulthood that I have; it's more of a fear of not measuring up to what I want to be in the next 5 years.
I am one year older and with that comes the accompanying new set of worries.