London, also known as ‘The Big Smoke,’ has recently become a second home to me. From village child to city student, the transition has proven surprisingly unpredictable. From a village of less than a thousand, to a city of around 7.5 million people, is it any surprise that change is inevitable? 

I thought I was growing up, but somehow I feel more ‘teenager’ than ever. Having returned home for my end-of-term break, I’ve realised how terrified I am of revealing the changes I have succumbed to in the big city. For one, I’ve been taking long walks every night to smoke a cigarette rather than actually confess to my parents that I’m smoking. For a twenty year old, this is as ‘un-twenty-year-old’ as it gets. I even found myself tucking a can of deodorant in my bag that I take with me to mask the smell of the smoke.

Now if there’s one thing I remember, it’s the years of High School where the group of thirteen year old ‘smokers’ would sit at the back of the bus chewing copious amounts of chewing gum and wasting can upon can of deodorant to cover their smoky smell. At the time, as a fellow thirteen-year old, I admit that I judged them. Not necessarily for their smoking, but for their need to imitate growing-up in the most childish of fashions. 

And yet, here I am, seven years later and no different to the thirteen year-old’s at the back of the bus. (Well, minus the illegality of my smoking and the need to prove anything to anyone.) 

So here’s my question. Do we keep these secrets because we are ashamed of the people we have become? Am I hiding this because I am afraid of becoming just like the back-of-the-bus children? Or am I keeping this a secret because I don’t want to disappoint my parents? Either way, I feel like a child with a very silly secret.

I decided to open an all-new blog to accommodate the rambling thoughts and constant string of stories that rattle within my head every now and again, with the occasional image as an interval or catalyst for the next thought or story.

If you read what I have to say as Paperbug, then I thank you.

Forever and always,

- Paperbug.