Essential backstory about my time with a textbook narcissist. If you wanna get to the bad stuff, scroll to the “***”.
I started university in 2010 at 18 in the hopes of pursuing a dream career in Journalism, what a fuck up that was. Within about 2 weeks of moving 200 miles from my hometown to uni I’d already happily and willingly gone down the wrong path as a student. I was free, unsupervised and had plenty of disposable income that was to me, better spent on Jagerbombs and cheap cocaine than text books and notepads.
I didn’t live in halls, instead I lived in a student complex in a town just out of where the main campus was. It was a tad more expensive than halls and i believe this is the reason for the vast variety of different cultures that resided there. I met people from all walks of the Earth and some are still friends to this day. One of them is Holly, and if it wasn’t for Holly my life would never have taken the gigantic leap from one extreme to the other that it did. Holly was your typical happy go lucky, bubbly scouser. She was smart, funny, pretty and popular, she knew a lot of people both at uni and at home in Liverpool. She lived on the same corridor of apartments as me and we became close friends very fast.