The year twenty thirteen

In two-thousand and thirteen I: moved in with three of my best friends, planned a holiday around South East Asia, wrote letters to long-lost friends, completed a year of university, visited my hometown,  turned twenty-one, wrote and performed two twenty-first speeches, had two internships, trained myself to run 10km without stopping, drank too much champagne, boogied until dawn, gave money to charity to send a girl to school in Sierra Leone, made new friends, said goodbye to unnecessary friendships, kissed strangers, was given a travel-pack, ate more meat, grew my hair, took more photos, drove around Brisbane unsuccessfully searching for a citrus tart at 1am, attended my best friend’s graduation, made personal handshakes, skyped the ‘Gap Yah Girls’, visited Adelaide, developed a fleeting taste for red wine, was awarded a Dean’s Scholarship, listened to comedy, had my first articles published in a newspaper, made a pom-pom garland, trekked through mud, went on midnight drives, discovered a love for strong black tea, bought some gumboots, missed my parents, skinny-dipped in a public pool, swam in a quarry, kayaked the Clarence River, enjoyed countless picnics, ate too much Thai, gave money to a disadvantaged woman on my bus, was given a bike, attended my first wedding, read books, bought too many clothes, was drunkenly asked to be a maid-of-honour for a single friend, stayed in bed all day, watched live music, saw the circus, strengthened a friendship that makes me want to burst with love and excitement, was a passenger in my recently-p-plated brothers car, fell in love with Chicken and Mayos, cried in public, swam in the ocean, battled with weevils, ran home in the rain, practised handstands, pulled any number of all-nighters, and witnessed an entire packet of Oreos being consumed followed by a complete emotional meltdown.

It’s been great.


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