Advance Australia Unfair
Never Fair
My eyes began to ache with the tears I was holding back. I sprinted almost blindly from the room and threw myself face down onto my bed.
It wasn’t fair! How could she do this to me?!
Moving was never on the cards, well I’d never thought it was an actual option, but now it seemed the most likely.
The gap between New Zealand and Australia suddenly seemed way too big to get my head around. A new country, a new school, new house, new people, new flag, new anthem, new history, new accent! I can’t handle that! A transition from fish to fee-esh was not something I was open to.
I want things to stay the way they are! How could I make it stay the same?
My mother’s words echoed in my head. “It’s your choice. What do you want to do?”. Two words stuck with me. Your choice.
My choice. Big decision, my choice. Seventeen years old and I’m all of a sudden being thrown into life’s deep end.
Was there some ‘Grown Up’ convention I had missed out on? The one where they told you how to know straight away which choice was the right one?
I tried to keep myself calm, deep breaths to find a level-headed answer. The pros and cons were bombarding my mind, trying to win a spot as the most important thing to me.
Pro: No more annoying little brother! Con: No more little brother.
Pro: Independence! Con: Full decision-making.
Pro: Stay with my friends. Con: Lose my family.
There were some things I just wasn’t ready to get rid of. The hard part was deciding which was which.
I turned over onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. Funny how change makes you see the little things. I had become so used to the telltale childhood objects in my room that I hardly noticed them anymore, like the Winnie The Pooh stickers I had put on the ceiling above my bed when I was four years old. I thought I knew my bedroom like the back of my hand, the stickers just a freckle reminder. But now I saw them more closely I noticed the way they had lost their bright colourful appeal, Pooh Bear was an unsightly blotchy mustard colour and Piglet had nearly disappeared altogether. The breeze blowing in through the window I had left ajar was patting at the tattered edges as though trying to whisk away these fond childhood memories.
Maybe the wind was right, some things had to be let go. Maybe growing up and taking responsibility for my life was something I was ready to do. Maybe a new school, new friends and new scenery weren’t the end of my life. They were just the beginning of a new chapter in the same old story.
It wasn’t fair! How could she do this to me?!
Moving was never on the cards, well I’d never thought it was an actual option, but now it seemed the most likely.
The gap between New Zealand and Australia suddenly seemed way too big to get my head around. A new country, a new school, new house, new people, new flag, new anthem, new history, new accent! I can’t handle that! A transition from fish to fee-esh was not something I was open to.
I want things to stay the way they are! How could I make it stay the same?
My mother’s words echoed in my head. “It’s your choice. What do you want to do?”. Two words stuck with me. Your choice.
My choice. Big decision, my choice. Seventeen years old and I’m all of a sudden being thrown into life’s deep end.
Was there some ‘Grown Up’ convention I had missed out on? The one where they told you how to know straight away which choice was the right one?
I tried to keep myself calm, deep breaths to find a level-headed answer. The pros and cons were bombarding my mind, trying to win a spot as the most important thing to me.
Pro: No more annoying little brother! Con: No more little brother.
Pro: Independence! Con: Full decision-making.
Pro: Stay with my friends. Con: Lose my family.
There were some things I just wasn’t ready to get rid of. The hard part was deciding which was which.
I turned over onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. Funny how change makes you see the little things. I had become so used to the telltale childhood objects in my room that I hardly noticed them anymore, like the Winnie The Pooh stickers I had put on the ceiling above my bed when I was four years old. I thought I knew my bedroom like the back of my hand, the stickers just a freckle reminder. But now I saw them more closely I noticed the way they had lost their bright colourful appeal, Pooh Bear was an unsightly blotchy mustard colour and Piglet had nearly disappeared altogether. The breeze blowing in through the window I had left ajar was patting at the tattered edges as though trying to whisk away these fond childhood memories.
Maybe the wind was right, some things had to be let go. Maybe growing up and taking responsibility for my life was something I was ready to do. Maybe a new school, new friends and new scenery weren’t the end of my life. They were just the beginning of a new chapter in the same old story.