Blue Dress Hot Mess

I have painted my nails, made myself a cup of tea, and located my glasses. Those three things appear to be the only constants in my life; I have just turned 20, and for the first time ever there is no obvious next step. It has dawned on me that I am scared. I could paint my nails again, make another cup of tea. Go crazy – have an orange juice. I have never been scared of the future before – certainly, apprehensive, but never really, overwhelmingly scared. I am 20; the edge of forever, as I dramatically see it. But this sudden tsunami was shattering; fluctuating anxiety which neither announced its presence nor its departure. This deep, endless, pit-of-the-stomach unease about something that has before always been so simple; school, exams, university. The black and white appears greyer on the horizon. The top of the hill of Education is not blue sky. It is not even cloudless. More of a fog. Is this the time for the marriage, babies, Marks & Spencer meals, and book clubs? I think not. A steady boyfriend solves nothing. Mind you, is love ever the solution? The wild and crazy romance which I seem to ignite is far from steady. But it is certainly living. If my only aim is to live, I am always achieving. I have no future without myself. So from a window-seat in Pembrokeshire my tormented, foggy mind is temporarily tranquilised. Today I have been a pyjama model, a wild swimmer, a lover, and a friend. I woke up sore and hungover, and will go to bed full of chicken and champagne. I have been Carrie Bradshaw and Virginia Woolf. I have been untroubled by my fear, but naggingly aware of its presence. It outlives the lingering pain in my head from last night’s party. It is a dull ache — but I am happy. The Welsh coast feels very far from any serious decision making. Twenty; young but aging. Perhaps I’ll have to paint my toenails.