It was a September afternoon in 2016 when I got on a bike and cycled to the sea. The Pembrokeshire coast was in full Technicolor that day, glowing with the sunlight reflected back from its sandy seabed. The air was thick and warm, and by the time my dad and I had reached the cove, my clothes were damp and itchy on my skin.
I was 19, and about to enter my second year of university. I had been through a hellish time at secondary school. I had tumbled hard and heavy into my first real relationship – and out of it again. And I was on the brink, I think, of finally starting to know myself.
