I left school having fucked up my A-levels (because I was “stupid”) and fucked up friendships through soaking “confused” teenage hormones in booze. It wasn’t the last time I’d do that. My dad paid for me to retake my A-levels at his old college in Notting Hill. Stuck at home for another year, it was the first time I truly worked hard for something. I sat in Kensington Gardens a lot, on my own, revising or writing my journal. I felt left behind, and through my own fault, but not sad. Solitary perhaps, but only as that moment between breaths.
I absolutely love the line about in between breaths! There’s a lot of meaning there.