Into the wilderness

It's hit me. The feelings of loss, regret and fear. I've never felt this before. I want to say it feels nice, but it doesn't. I know things will be fine, I know they will work out for the best if I look forward, but after you leave somewhere, the temptation of looking back is just too unbearable.

Spending the next two years studying, graduating, then being flung out into the open world now doesn't seem as boring as it did when I was at school. I haven't even spent one night in London and already I feel lonely. I have left a town full of really nice people who actually did care about me. Right now, I can't comprehend why I ran away from it all. I was scared of becoming boring and was battling being young. Now I am scared of actually being responsible for myself. I don't need anyone to tell me 'I told you so' anyone to tell me 'You'll get through this' or anyone to say 'It's just a phase'. I know these things. I will be telling myself for weeks. I will get through this. And this is a phase. As you can tell by my self justification, I am trying to answer my unanswerable questions.

Maybe I'm feeling like this because of a AWFUL journey from Southend to Lambeth. Now usually the train betwixt these places is usually rather pleasant, minus the odd oriental fiend eating and calling people extremely loudly. But today, of all days, was full of, all I describe them as is wankers. Some stupid, teenage chav who screamed at the top of her lungs but getting retribution from her brother who received a 'nipple cripple' off his sister. She the proceeded to storm off down the carriage, letting every other passenger know of her annoyance. We then had Sir Phlegm. Who would not stop coughing up the entirety or his tar-riddled lungs. After the Two teenage chavs alighted the train, we were met by three chavettes who rode down the isle on their scooters, making everyone aware of their presence. The tube journey didn't get any better. If carrying a vast array of suitcases and an accordion between my boyfriend and I wasn't hard enough, the Northern line being closed was more than helpful. Not only the closure of the most important line, the other half decided it would be a good idea to get off at the wrong stop, or get on the wrong tube at that. With his idea of not going to a particular station because it had many stairs, we unfortunately ended up getting off a station only to use the stairs down and up to only go back on ourselves to get on to the eventual correct tube.

I apologise if you didn't keep up with that account of the tube journey. I hope you can now appreciate that I didn't have a clue whilst being on that adventure due to the intermittent moments of me trying not to break down in the middle of a station, or push my other half off of the platform. I am sure I must be suffering from a male version of PMT.

I am extremely aggressive tonight. I am extremely lonely, too. But do you know what? Big deal. This is a blip in my emotional cycle. When I find some form if stability, I shall feel better. This isn't meant to be a blog about people feeling sorry for me, or to donate anything (although money IS greatly appreciated), it is merely as a memoir for me to look back onto and think 'What a dick I was'. Then laugh and realise that not much has changed.

Before I sign off, I just want to apologise to, and thank the lovely boyfriend. I don't want to be one of those soppy twats, but I just feel that I haven't shown my appreciation. And what better way than to publicly let him know...It's what any self respectable 14 year old girl in love would do...I'm not one of them but I really look up to them, they know how the world rolls.

So thank you, Joe Morrow. You are quite wonderful.

To everyone else, I'm impressed you read my page of  horse mess. When I get my head straight, I promise something more legible.

However, I did promise you that from the start....

Peace.
xx