Two weeks worth of non-instagrammable pictures and an excessive amount of easter eggs later, I have safely made my way back to the UK.
Coming back home always involves the same procedures: We tell each other how much we have missed each other's company (hugs included) and spend more time reminiscing about our past, than making plans for the future. Even after eight months, we keep acting as if life stops for everyone when I'm away, although I can tell just by looking out of the car window, that time couldn't care less about me not being there. There's always something that has suddenly changed, whether it'd be new houses and people I should recognise in a small village like the one I lived in, or simply just the feeling of change. But that could just be me.
In a way, it is like going back in time. Seeing places where memories have been made, people I used to chit-chat with in the local shop, even walking past my old school gives me a feeling of nostalgia. I left pictures on my bedroom walls that I didn't want to take with me, as if this was my way of leaving the old me behind. The idea was to remove parts of a painting to be able to start on a blank canvas, to strip off some of the layers I used to wear, or any other cringe worthy metaphor you'd prefer - you get the idea. I guess it just felt good to know I had the chance to reinvent myself when I started this journey. However, as I stood in my room and was reminded of who I was before, I realised how important it can be not loose yourself throughout the process of change.
Yes, maybe we are just evolutioned, but still primitive, organisms that react to their environment in different ways. Perhaps there is no such thing as a persistent character, and we just adapt our personality to whatever or whoever we are influenced by. That's why we sometimes struggle to identify with the person we see in old pictures, or, in my case, the fat clump with legs and arms that happened to be my living and breathing three year old Self. Even when I read through some of my old pieces of writing, I felt so disconnected with the writer (mostly because my writing was pretty sh*t, which I'll probably and hopefully say again when making comparisons in five years from now).
Nevertheless, it was interesting to see how I have had such a variety of people around me, so many influences, putting me through different phases (some of which will hopefully never be spoken of) in terms of interests, music, literature and the ridiculous opinion that High School Musical will forever be the best movies we would ever see. Although I did have to change a little to the older me in order to adapt to what used to be my everyday environment and group of friends, I think it didn't hurt to also embrace the new me. It's weird to feel out of place, as if I didn't belong anymore, but after a couple of days, I realised I hadn't gone back to a world that had ended for me, but that I rather entered a new one.
And on that horrible attempt to create a metaphor with the intention to make a smooth transition to the following pictures, here are some shots from when my family and I went to 'Verdens Ende' (= the end of the world, yes, Norway is as cool as that)
The next few weeks will be dedicated to revision for upcoming exams, the attempt to stay sane and hopefully no beef with 'time' going all Usain Bolt on us. Good luck to everyone, don't die, and I'll speak to you sometime soon.