Contra Luna: river

It was that sort of tarmac-melting, inevitably sun-burning hot this past week and I celebrated my weekend off by eating lots and doing absolutely nothing productive. I had a picnic with a friend on Saturday afternoon (we talked about bullying and how friendships change over time) and went for a run in the evening, feeling self-conscious about my legging-clad thighs and greasy hair every time I passed anyone.

I sort of dislike going out and about in my hometown because it's so small and the kind of place where you'll inevitably run into thirty people you kinda-sorta know, the kind of people who would tell everyone "I saw Phoebe yesterday and she looked like she'd been dipped in chip fat!". I know that as a psychology student I should probably be aware of the fact that I judge myself far more harshly than anyone else does, that in reality no one cares about my ratty ponytail or tubby arse, but in my mind it's a really big deal every time I end up in that "Should I say hi? Should I keep looking at the pavement?" situation that seems so ridiculous as a twenty year old. I guess being home brings back all the feelings that I had over the years here at ten and thirteen and eighteen.

When I woke up on Sunday morning I felt oddly free and over it, like I could acknowledge that those issues just don't matter in the grand scheme of things. I pulled on shorts and my awful bra (the comfy saggy one that creates the illusion that I have the body of an octogenarian) and a vest and walked to a park by the river where I lay on a bench and listened to YouTube videos by Rosianna Halse Rojas (who is just achingly clever and insightful and my dreamworld best friend). I also took these photos, one of which required me to stand on a bench and another which left me sitting on a big flat rock right in the river. I let go of the feelings of "What if someone sees me and everyone thinks I'm *uncool* forever?" for an hour and it was the most peaceful I've felt in months.