Suki Jones 

My college years were supposed to be the stepping stone to something bigger, a clear path to the future. Instead, they became a lesson in what happens when your heart and head don’t line up. I went to the local college and picked the typical A-level subjects—maths, chemistry, and human biology—not because I had a burning passion for them, but because they seemed like sensible choices. The truth is, I didn’t know what I wanted to do, and those subjects felt like a safe bet. Looking back now, I realize if I’d had my time again, I would’ve chosen something different—probably social sciences. But then again, those experiences shaped me, so maybe it all happened the way it was meant to.

That’s not to say it was easy. I struggled, big time. After failing my second year, I stayed on for a third, still not managing to get the grades I needed. Clearing became my only option for university. Twice, I saw my dad’s disappointment. It wasn’t just in his words, it was in the way he looked at me, the silent judgment. He thought I hadn’t worked hard enough, and maybe he was right. I didn’t give my best, but there was more to it than just slacking off in class.

At 18, I met my first girlfriend. She was my first love—or so I thought at the time. It’s funny how, when you’re young, you think you’ve got everything figured out. I was completely taken by her, and that relationship became my focus. My grades? My future? Those were secondary. We’d skip classes, driving to Burger King with friends instead of studying. I was distracted, caught up in what felt like everything back then. She was also Sikh, and in our community, dating openly wasn’t an option. So it all had to stay secret, which only added to the intensity. Sneaking around made it feel exciting, but it also built a pattern of secrecy and hidden relationships that would follow me well into adulthood.

By the time university rolled around, my decision wasn’t based on the course I wanted or career goals. I chose the uni based on where my girlfriend and my best mate were going. It was all about proximity, not opportunity. University should’ve been my chance to reset, to get my head straight, but I took my distractions with me. The relationship carried on, and the struggles continued. But that’s another story for another time.

My dad’s anger and disappointment through it all came from a place of care. He wanted me to do well, to live up to the potential he saw in me. I couldn’t see it back then, but I get it now. He wasn’t upset just because I didn’t get the grades—it was the missed opportunities, the feeling that I could’ve done more if I’d just focused. And that cut deep.

But here’s the thing: I don’t regret any of it. Not the failed years, not the relationship, not the fact that I stumbled into university through clearing. Everything happens for a reason, and those choices—good or bad—made me who I am. Sure, if I could go back, I might have picked social sciences, something that actually interested me. But if I had, maybe I wouldn’t have learned the same lessons, wouldn’t have taken the same path.

Those years shaped me. The failures, the heartbreaks, and the missteps were all part of the journey. I’ve learned to embrace it, because regret doesn’t change the past, and everything I went through taught me something. Life didn’t turn out the way I thought it would at 18, but I believe it all unfolded the way it was meant to.