In Your Twenties.

 

When I was fifteen, I had this idealistic approach to your twenties, this safety net of my youth wrapped within the freedom of adulthood. I wanted to be beautiful, the type of beauty seen on the cover of magazines. I thought I would have long blonde hair and wear high heels. I would live in a flat in London that is stereotypically cool, but in that haphazard, alternative sort of way. It would have lots of plants, and clothes everywhere, and candle holders made from wine bottles. I would of course have a balcony that I would seductively smoke my vogues cigarettes whilst pulling off a perfect red lip. I would live alone. I would write, design, and cook. I would play my guitar on the fire escape in an arthouse film soundtrack type of way. I would have a few boyfriends, not too many but enough to establish my worth, continuing my independence whilst also not being bored. I would have plenty of friends, more than enough so I would always have plans. We would drink wine, try on lingerie, and tell each other our secrets. We would dance all night long, and drink from the bottle.

 

When I was fifteen my early twenties represented some monumental and all-encompassing new beginning. A life from the likes of sex in the city and breakfast at tiffany’s. I would imagine myself so far away from my life in rural Wales, I would be a city girl, a heartbreaker, rule breaker, maybe even some kind of low-level socialite. I would be free. I would be rid of the bullies of high school, or everyone else for that matter, I would have my braces off and boobs will have grown. I Romanised this era to my heart’s content, it was an utterly perfect destination of freedom for my little teenage mind to head towards. Your twenties held this excitement of independence without the boring monotony of adulthood.

 

When I was fifteen, I thought when I was in my twenties, I would finally be old enough to ask out Zac Efron. I would bump into him at a party where we would dance the night away or maybe on some picturesque corner in Chelsea. Unfortunately, and to my utter despair, I have never even met him nor am I on the breaking news seen on the gossip section of Cosmo. I had no idea what real love was, I believed love was a meeting ‘the one’ and being showered in gifts and affection. But in reality, anyone can buy you flowers and chocolates, there’s no love in that. We live in a society where it is cool not to have feelings. It’s cool not to care. Despite the complicated rules of modern dating I still believe the truly romantic gifts are those that show you care. It’s all about those random texts in the middle of the day, just to let them know you love them. Love should be about being excited to see them so you can tell them about your day or laughing at their jokes, even the lame ones.

 

When I was Fifteen, I didn’t understand that you cannot just simply pick up those aesthetically pleasing apartments i used to see on Tumblr. I have however achieved a lot, even more than I could have imagined. Not in the sense of money and societal status but something far more than that. I have miraculously managed to create a life for myself. I have discovered that I am capable of anything I put my mind to and there is nothing that is going to be in my way. I have lived a life I could have only ever imagined and learned lessons I think often take a lifetime. I have become so much more than someone with red high heels and an authentically unconventional Chelsea apartment.