This is me five years ago, almost to the day. I was twenty one years old, finishing up my degree, and about to get engaged to the man in the doctor who scarf. At this point he had never even seen Doctor Who, but was too polite to ask what it was every time I referenced it.
Me, five years ago. I was one of those people with an entirely complete view of where my life was going. I lived with great friends in a house that I loved, despite it’s shabbiness, in a town that I adored. I swam almost every day, and walked several miles onto campus and back. I was fit, healthy, and happy. It was a time in my life when I didn’t own a scale, a hair dryer, or any kind of concealer. I was totally in love with my future husband, never doubting that we were destined to be together forever, not allowing myself to question the alternative to a transatlantic love affair. I studied semi-furiously, worked a part time job, and made time to travel back to see my family.
I think my time five years ago was well spent, actually. I long to wake up in those lilac afternoons, in my small bedroom overlooking the backs of houses, a cobbled alley way, and laundry-strewn gardens. Student life. I spent enough time sleeping then (I have always been a sleep-whore), and didn’t feel guilty about climbing back into bed in the afternoon for a nap or to read. I think it was a time in my life that I didn’t really feel guilty about anything, or that I owed anyone an explanation about anything.
I look at this photo now and realised that this was the height of my confidence, this was the point in my life that I truely could have been anyone, done anything, gone anywhere. I think I recognize it now I am at a point of my life where my self esteem has taken a weathering, reality has set in.
If I had to look at myself five years ago (which I guess I better), I would say the only thing that I would wish I would have spent more time doing is enjoying the moment, enjoying being myself back then. Because I was beautiful, talented, and buoyed up by the world.