Chapter 3

Chapter 3

BRYNN

Living my slow, rustic life in the countryside of Kent was droll. The houses on the land stood on the yellow sand made of oast, ragstone and timber as if they were an escape from the city. Perfect little rows of vintage houses lined the group of counties that made up Kent. The place where my family put their roots down was a small, quaint village in the countryside, and my family could never imagine who would want to leave this perfectly serene village. I was the person who didn't want to be there. It was my parents' fantasy of a perfect life and their chosen suffering. I felt far from it.

I wanted to change the way my family did things. I wanted to make a life that was better for me. I envisioned being different from what everyone wanted me to be. I was scared I would be as they were and how they chose to lead their lives. I wanted to make a life that was outside the world they had built for me. I was willing to work myself hard and work eighteen hours a day, despite whatever my circumstances were in the beginning. 

The minute I passed out of high school, I was on a train to my aunt's house in London. I got out of my small town as soon as I possibly could. I enrolled myself in the university to study communications, marketing and advertising. My days at the university were long and filled with hours of studying the course material and then working. I didn't feel bad about working so hard at the university. I knew my hard work would pay off. I knew that I wasn't missing out on the partying; I had a feeling that if I worked hard and paid my bills, then the rest of my life would be a party.

It might be hard for a few years, but I knew I had the opportunity on my hands to break the cycle. I got three jobs and filled my free hours by taking extra courses at my university. I had no regrets about working myself to the bone. I was prideful that when I put my mind to things, I could actually make them happen. That was a first for my entire family. They were happy living a life where they were comfortable with complacency. 

I had always known that a life full of mediocrity wasn't a good life for me. I didn't want to waste my best years finding a partner, paying mortgages, living pay check to pay check and having children. I wanted to do bigger and better things. My friends and family used to tell me that I had too much ambition flowing through my veins. 

When is ambition too much ambition? When do we decide it is okay to have a little of it? I didn't know before people judged other people based on their purpose in their lives. I was just doing whatever I could to build a good life for myself.

I was only interested in doing what I always wanted to do. It wasn't such a big deal in my mind as everyone made it out to be. I was going after what I wanted. Who wouldn't need a financially stable life?

I wanted to make something out of myself, so that's what I did precisely. I moved out to the suburbs of Fulham to live with my old aunt. I thought life in Fulham was okay, better than what it could've been in Kent. I had the freedom to go after the things I wanted at my aunt's place. I started interning at this big corporation and was responsible for the advertising spend budget for some big clients in the company. I had fun managing them with my boss since he taught me the nitty-gritty of how they deal with other big corporate clients. I got to know the core of platform building and sustaining the marketing life of a product. I learned how to control the ad spend, where it went, towards which platform it could go, when to increase the money I was putting in and when to release the money from the ads to lead a better ad campaign.

I was learning many things while having the time of my life. This place in my life was the first time in all these years I had lived where I felt like I truly belonged. This instant was where I knew that someday I would make it big because I had the passion for the job and the drive to see it through. I knew what I was doing, and it instilled a lot of confidence in me that only comes from a place of knowing when something works out for you. I thought I had my complete life under the control of my strong thumb.

That is why it took me by surprise when I developed feelings for a guy at my university. It started slow, weary as if the relationship itself was unsure of its formation. We became friends, and he started coming over to my aunt's apartment, where we partnered on some projects together for the university. I never understood why he was so kind and friendly toward me. I never understood the depth of his emotions. I thought he was just a guy looking for a passing fling. 

It surprised me again when I started seeing him at university regularly and felt like we were a good match. He came nearly close to moving in with me than anyone ever did, and that's when I had the epiphany: he was somebody who wanted to go the distance. 

At the very least to say, I was taken aback. 

I wasn't expecting this. I wasn't expecting a relationship out of the blue. It hurt me because I felt like we were good to each other. We knew each other well and knew what to expect from the other. I knew I wouldn't be happy if I decided to let him in. I wasn't ready to settle down. I didn't even know if I wanted to be married, like, forever. 

The decision to let him in my life felt like I was giving up on my dreams. I felt like I was giving up on the person I wanted to be. I wanted to be different from what role this guy was pushing me into playing for him.

Because that's the truth, isn't it?

When it comes to me and my goals, dreams and aspirations, he was just a guy standing right damn in the middle of the path like a giant deterrent. I would have never forgiven myself if my heart settled on choosing him over me. 

When I told him I wanted different things, he didn't get me like I thought he knew how to. I was disappointed. We constantly fought and sulked in different rooms. Whenever we were in a room together, you could cut the tension in the room with a knife.

I couldn't just bring myself to be in a relationship that slowly suffocated the life out of me. I would've started to resent him in a couple of months since I knew myself and how I reacted to these things. There would be endless fights with no substance. All the anger, trauma, hatred, and desperation would merge together like an infinite line that ran right in the middle of the core of our hearts, tying us into a f*cked-up relationship.

I couldn't understand what I was doing to myself and what I was doing to him. So, I decided to let him go. That was the best decision I had ever made. That was me being bright for both of us. That was being fair to both of us. That was letting go of what shouldn't have flowered in the first instance.

When the first year of my university ended, I left him like I lifted and dropped heavy weights at the gym. I felt so much lighter, so much like myself. I finally felt like things were going right, and I was on the path I had wanted to embrace all my life. I was finally free to be who I wanted to be. Things were great for me after that.

Until the third and final semester started, and I felt uneasy somehow. The existential crisis of what I was supposed to do next weighed enormously on my heart. It hit me in full swing. It made breathing hard every day, and I caught myself running this life on autopilot. I couldn't even bring myself to be present in those days. In the mornings, it was to attend university and make notes. Then in the afternoons, I had to go to my service job. Afterwards, I tended to my freelancing clients when I headed back home. That time is a giant blur in my head. I can't pick up specific days and open them wide on the concrete of my mind. It's hard for me to recall much of my life now.

But then, one definite day does come to mind that changed the course of my life. It was never the same again. I changed many of the things on my ten-year plans and how I wanted to go about them.

One day I was taking the Tube, and I caught myself following a group of young girls the same age as me. I simply loved their energy from a distance and couldn't stop listening to their enthusiastic voices. I was walking close to them, listening to their laughs and hearing jokes as we all waited for the two p.m. train to arrive at the station. I got in the same carriage as this group of young women and followed them as they pranced around the crowded carriages. I couldn't stop myself from doing so. They seemed so inviting and joyous. They had big smiles on their faces, and they were so giggly. I watched them laugh at the tiniest things. They seemed so full of life till I really took the chance to peer deeply into their eyes and recognised the betrayal that some empty eyes and souls can offer you. 

They were not what they seemed to be. 

I sat next to them on the underground train carriage and listened tentatively to what they had to say. One of the girls had grown up in London all her life, had wealthy parents and came from a comfortable upbringing, but was still struggling to find a purpose, a direction in her life. She murmured to her friends how alienated she felt from her parents, who gave her everything, but somehow she was still disgusted by their wealth, them as people and how they lived their life. It was jarring to hear how she talked about her folks. 

The other girl spoke of feeling humiliated about bagging this new job. Since deep down inside, her fears were taking over her life. She feared she could never be as good as Sally, her workmate. Two other girls in their group just laughed at her, and one smiled coyly, dismissing her quickly, saying, "You know there's always someone out there better than you."

To me, it felt like they were playing this one-sided precarious game. What was the point of shoving one in the rear when the person was already feeling bad? Perhaps this is why I remained friendless throughout my long years at my university? Are people in London just hopeless about everything in life?

I was never that accommodating with meeting people when I was invited to parties because I knew these were the years that I had to work hard if I wanted to do something with my life.

That day left me reeling. Perhaps I wasn't meant for city life. Memories of Kent started to permeate my mind, but I couldn't bring myself to agree with the notion that I was comfortable moving back to the town I grew up in. 

London wasn't so bad, was it?

Sooner than later, I realised it was. I had to get out of this place.

You have to understand how moved I was by this incident. This incident gnawed like teeth at the fabric of my very soul. No matter what I did, I couldn't forget the group of happy girls I followed that fateful day on the London Tube. I knew I had to get out of London while I still could before getting caught up in a web of responsibilities and mortgages that I wouldn't be able to escape.

I got home early one evening straight from work and filtered through job boards with listings for marketing positions outside London. I had saved a lot by living with my aunt and helping her around the house. To be honest, I had saved enough that it could provide me with a little cushion if an inopportune day like this had to come again.

The day was upon me, and I was shuffling through different advertisements till I stopped at the one that caught my eye. There was a big marketing agency in New Beerenland, a small island country northwest of Germany. They were offering a work visa with virtual interviewing, and the company needed an experienced advertising and event planner as soon as possible to join on board. Before I could think about it, I had already applied with a single click on the job board and uploaded my resume.

In a few days, I gave my interview virtually through an online social media messenger application. Then I was asked to send them a cover letter along with my salary expectations.

The upcoming week after that, I got hired by the company. Soon, I was packing my bags to go off to New Beerenland to embrace the small-town lifestyle again. In the meantime, while I waited for the company to make an offer, I went ahead to research their tiny country. I wanted to know what were the people on the island like and their culture towards foreigners. The vibe I caught from checking on different ex-pat personal blogs and websites reminded me of my childhood in Kent, where people cared about whatever your needs were, and they wanted to know everything about your life. They wanted you as a neighbour and looked out for you. It felt like a place where people still had good manners and common sense.

Not like how it was in London, where people didn't even greet you and looked at you on the Tube like you never even existed like you didn't belong there. I had always felt out of place in London, and I was looking forward to moving my life to New Beerenland. I was looking forward to fresh air, staring at people's faces and knowing who they actually were. Also, to eat a lot of fresh berries. The berries were what the country was known for, and they literally translated it into their name. I could imagine myself effortlessly falling into place with them.

For the first time in a long while, I was excited about what was becoming of my life. I felt confident in who I was and what I was doing. I could feel the winds of fortune blowing in my direction for once.

Little did I know what my life had in store for me in New Beerenland. It would change everything I ever believed in and what would become of it.