Graduation Day

The 14^th July 2016, was the day my parents had been waiting for, a time to finally hang up my picture in the living room to brag to all their friends that their first born Khaleesi, was a graduate. Did they care what I got? What I looked like? Or the fact I was super angry the morning we left for Canterbury. To be frank, I was not excited, I was meh, it was a secret prayer in my heart for this day to SPEED up so we could all go back home and remove our decent Sunday clothes.

However, the preparation did not come without a battle – the dress I ordered from ASOS made me look like a full moon. Which led my crazy self to run around oxford circus looking for a last minute corporate outfit – in flipping River Island and collect smart black shoes from M&S – which basically fractured my feet.The slay, I admit, was lacklustre, I didn’t bother to sew a new weave, wear acrylics or buy new eyelashes.

With a signature red lip and unwolverine’d brows, I managed to look decent at 5:30am for a 10:30 graduation. And screaming at my family for not being ready, when I hadn’t even worn my trousers.

 I think what propelled me, was the fact my whole family came. To see my Dad who dropped me in September to start third year and by grace, pick up me up  in June, despite him being in and out of hospital to then be admitted to Intensive critical care for 4 months and being put in a medically induced coma – which meant me going back to London at odd times, and leading to a whirlwind of emotions and removing interest from my degree.

My mum who was put in the very awkward position, of having to come in the same car as my father, doing it for me despite their bitter relationship all for me to look like a lemon the whole drive. Her constant smile during the day was a reminder of how hard she believed in my non-existent academic abilities, the books she bought me, and raising me through my difficult teenage years singlehandedly.

My brother who is currently in purgatory over further education, to just see me in the gown and sent me an out of character text after the graduation, to say how proud he was of me regardless. And my Einstein sister, who struggled to compliment me as per, after sending her halfway through the day to buy me emergency flats, whilst I was having a Verruca Salt moment.  With my fluctuating emotions, my family still managed to take 500 pictures of my gritted smile on the iPad which I wanted to throw into the canal.

Yet, there is an adrenaline and a strong sense of pride, when your name is being called out to say that you completed this course, with no unnecessary coursework extensions, countless sleepless nights, attending seminars,  the odd absence for a 9am (lol), and your unrequited course bf whooping for you as you think "DO NOT TRIP"as you collect your degree.

 Despite all this, I am thankful to God, That I managed to finish my degree. Not dropping out, when I had all the prerequisites to do so. Meeting my housemates, and making so many friends, the odd enemy – and perfecting my other skills and developing my love for politics.