5. Stations

The Flowerhead train station brings back a mountain of memories. 

The first time I stepped into its boring post-war shell, I went to London with my parents, thinking it was the most exotic and awesome place I would ever step foot in.

The next time it was Blackpool Theme Park. I trawled through it's tired grey walls with my school friends and a happy mask- even though I hated roller coasters.

Or the many times I would take the journey to Cambridge for a university that would tire me to near-death. 

And now I'm here again for a brand new turn in life- I hope. The flurry of butterflies in the stomach I felt when I was going to London is back. I try to remind myself, clutching to my bright blue rucksack, that this trip to the train station will be different. I am going to travel wherever the hell I want to and this time it will be different. This time I will be going since I want to not because someone else has pressured me into it. 

Not my parents. 

Not my friends. 

Not my teachers. 

I was entering Flowerhead Station for me. 

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