Gan Coner - 'Man of mystery'

Mysterious

The day had passed and it was now time to prepare. I lead my friends up to my room and we began. We placed on our tightly fitted dresses and seductively placed make up on our faces. We giggled as poured exotic spirits into glasses. We drank the luscious fruity filled drinks, our blood boiled and rushed to our cheeks. We almost had everything ready. The last finishing touches allowed us to proceed onwards. The stumbling down the stairs and silly giggling and the struggle to walk in our glittering heels, we finally reached the taxi.

The giant club stood proud in a desolate street, even though it looked like a converted house, it managed to stand out.  The beautifully lined up fence took us to the queue of excited tipsy people, all waiting for the same experience. The music boomed through the walls, we couldn’t wait to get in. The queue didn’t take long but the coldness ate out bones.

            The arch shaped doors were held back by two well-built men, they checked our identification and we proceeded. The pitter-patter of feet echoed down the corridor, slowly drowned by dub step music. The large building situated around a bar and a dance floor, the ceiling was soaring above us, admiring the music. The dance floor was crowded and my hazy blur found it difficult to keep track of my friends. My hand let go, I couldn’t see them anymore. Idiotically I headed back on myself. Then I realised I was wrong and went back again towards the dance floor. I knew I was beyond tipsy now. The sounds from the DJ slowed down and I passed through the large door frame. It was difficult to see, my jacket caught the door.

            The atmosphere seemed dark and hazy, but a shadow touched my shoulder. I turned around as they pulled my jacket from the door handle. He smiled. His completion was almost perfect, I took a breath. I knew my hazy eyes couldn’t see very much but I focused hard. His slick brown hair fell perfectly around his circular face. He was still gazing at me. My face was red and I seemed like a drunken fool, he was still attracted to the unpleasant attempt of me trying to fix my hair. One of his eyes shimmered in the light; he had two different coloured eyes, sky blue and emerald. I lost my thoughts and I froze, I couldn’t talk. Luckily the dub step had covered the awkwardness of conversation. His teeth glittered while he smiled at me. I honestly didn’t know where to look, I knew I was breathless. 

easter.

For a student the relief to go home is soon. You finally get to go home, for me I'll be nice because I haven't been home since January. It seems like such a long time, it has I guess. I wondered what others were doing/ what my university friends had planned. In the bottom of my stomach, the thought of going back made me feel like a foreigner. This is because; the past 6/7 months everyone back home has lived life without me. Work back home would have replaced me; my room has been taken over by Justin Bieber posters and tacky love hearts - the evil doing of my younger sister.
That damn poster gives me nightmares when i sleep in my own room. It's rather uncomfortable.

When I’m back home for more than a week, I blend back into routine. Although this time I go back things will be a little different. I won’t be planned into work; if I have a shift I’ll know the night before. This makes me feel much unorganised; as I’m a relatively organised person normally. This time my mum won’t be there as much as she said she would – lucky buggers going to Tunisia; while I’m stuck with the woes of coursework, excessive binge drinking and loud dodgy music.

The main aspects of going back home would be those chocolate eggs, they’re terrible for your teeth but they make you hyper and taste so damn good. I’m sure I’m in for my fair share of chocolate when I’m home. I love going home – although the summer will be different, once again.

The only things at home they’ll make me feel uncomfortable will be the memories I got rid of and the ‘school girl’ anxiety of trying to fit in again. Hopefully it’s easy enough, I hate going back – getting into the joist of being at home then having to go back again.

When it’s due to come back I’ll miss my parents cooking, I’ll miss my friends and I’ll miss being able to be free/ independent when I go home. All I have to say to my parents to go out is ‘cya later mum I’m off out.’ – That’s it. No questions, no answers.  I know this would have been very different if I hadn’t of gone to university. Your parents automatically think you can look after yourself, I can but still want my mummy and daddy :)