Last week took me back to London. London is a city I’ve lived in I’ve loved and I have hated. My first impressions of London was, I loved it. I felt it was my city, the place to be and I felt enthralled, fired up and ready to live this life that I felt I always wanted.

However, when I eventually moved there I saw things a little differently to say the least. My impressions changed drastically and before I knew it, the big dreams I had were pushed aside and I was suddenly living in a lower-class neighborhood working a part-time retail job.Oh how things seem to change! I didn’t quite know why I was doing this as I was fully aware it wasn’t taking me anywhere closer to what I wanted to do yet I felt I needed to support myself. 

I’m guessing many people who move to London and other large cities can relate to this. I guess it’s really what people call starting from the bottom and working your way up. I was disheartened but I didn’t stop, I worked the jobs, took the trains, walked the dirty streets, paid the bills, ate 48p Tesco chicken nuggets. I still didn’t know why. It was completely obvious to me this wasn’t the life I wanted. I would take my payslip on the 28th of every month and pay £600 for rent that night and have maybe 200 for the rest of the month If I was lucky. Moving to London I really wanted to gain my own independence and so I kept going on, I worked 40 hours a week yet I still had to ask my parents for money. It wasn’t the plan. I believed going there and taking this job would be a start to my own future. It was embarrassing in a way and I would hate to ask for money. 

I spent my Christmas in London. My first Christmas away from home. I love Christmas and when I think of Christmas I think of family. No matter what problems exist between my family it still is my family. I was too dedicated you could say or maybe idiotic. It’s something I will not do again. I give up a lot for silly jobs and things. In a way it’s good but in the other aspect I didn’t really gain a whole lot from setting up clothes on stands on Christmas eve.

I have a vivid memory of my Christmas Eve. I was coming out of work at 8pm, snow on the ground and not a person in sight. I was walking to the bus stop alone. I will never forget that feeling. Christmas eve used to be beside a Christmas tree with all of my family, beside the fireplace, talking, eating and enjoying our time. No matter how important you think a job may be you cannot forget the importance of the little things in life. I stood waiting on a bus with all of those things racing through my mind and I cried. If anything, I learned a lesson that night. 

So as you can tell London had disheartened me but I stayed 7 months later and after this time made a decision to leave. Now, almost 4 months later I find myself looking for a place in the city. Yes I’m moving back. As you may be able to tell it is hard for me to be excited about living in London.

However I buried whatever bad feelings I had and I took a flight to London prepared for a new start. As soon as I arrived I just felt someone had thrown concrete on my shoulders and I was bundled in stress once again. I was now running to take a train, hustling past the crowds, a million cultures colliding, the traffic and the thoughts of having to live this all over again. I went there with every intention to forget my last impressions and previous life there but the feelings were overpowering.

I couldn’t sleep that night, I was confused. I kept asking myself why am I doing this and is this a good idea? I didn’t want to but I couldn’t help it. I seemed so unhappy there. over the next few days I looked at ads on the internet, searched for rooms for rent, went to a speed flatmating night and looked at different areas. Still unconvinced but determined to try. I will go back there in two weeks. Don’t ask me why…