I'm lost.

All the days seem to have merged into one huge mess and I honestly can't remember the last time I woke up happily, with a smile on my face and a lack of exhaustion sitting on my shoulders. I'm worn down, and to be honest, a little bit lost.

I've finished my degree, celebrated both my sister's and boyfriend's birthdays within a week of each other, ate my own body weight in food and then amidst all that, everything came crashing down. My family received news we were dreading. There were, and have since been, countless tears shed, flowers sent and hugs shared. We all dressed in black and sat in the church and tried to sing hymns without spluttering through them. And then, in expected style, celebrated the life of a man who touched so many lives, and so many people. On almost-empty stomachs, we glugged pints and necked vodkas, bought rounds of gin and then later on, the sambuca started. More tears. Talk of happier times. As is said, United we stand, divided we fall. 

And united we were that day. 

Hand-in-hand, side by side, arm in arm. To hold out a tissue, a drink, or even just a hug. We mourned together, sang together, cried together, smiled, laughed and got drunk together. We reminisced, we held out hope, made promises, made plans, and then, collapsed into a heap of hangovers and reality hit.

This, was now nearly two weeks ago. That in itself seems unbelievable. And since then, I can't even seem to work out anything useful I've achieved. I've broken 3 acrylic nails done, and had one repaired, went to the gym and lost my gym card, collected an assignment from uni and was disappointed with the marks, lazily and half-heartedly browsed the net for jobs, and then, just gave in. 

My head still feels like it could explode any time. I have no grand plan now I'm finished uni, no career in the pipeline, no employers fighting over me. I'm stuck, I'm bored, I'm in denial and mostly, I'm lost. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have no solid friendship group. I haven't got uni, work, school, sixth form or proximity linking up and uniting my friends and I. I'm alone when it comes to being an adult, and honestly, I've never been more terrified.

Stressed: take two.

The first semester of final year is quickly coming to an-all-too-frightening end. I have two more seminars and one more lecture to go, before the Christmas holidays begin. As of December 5th, I'm free for six weeks or so, to panic and ponder next semester's modules and the finality that comes with finishing your degree, a prospect I was never sure I'd ever arrive at. 

I'm proud, worried and anxious. The assignments are mounting up, along with the pressure, and the looming deadlines appear to taunt me. The uncertainty of my life after May 2015 is scaring me stiff. I'm absolutely bricking it. The outside world. I've never been into the proper outside world before. At the age of 21, my feet have been firmly rooted in education since the age of 3. It's all I've ever known, passed from pillar to post, nursery to school to university, from institution to institution, without a care in the world. I've sat countless exams, cried unbelievable amounts of tears, and written a hell of a lot of words in that time, but maybe I'm about to make it. If only I can make it through these next few weeks of deadlines, I'll be able to breathe again properly without a tight chest and a worried, pallid face expression. 

Here's to hoping. Holding on tight, 2014 is coming to an end. Better go out with a bang. 

Escaping the void.

So, real-life has kind of hit me like a train. Almost two weeks into my second semester of uni, and my head feels sufficiently sore, my hand aches and my eyes look drained, bored, exhausted. As part of a new second year module, the fourty-something of us (I'm guessing) that make up Creative Writers, have been assigned to something our university is calling Writing and Enterprise. As part of this, we are required to focus in on applying for a mock-up job ad at a local writing agency. As soon as I realised this, I knew I had hit a brick walk. Hard. 

While the class is clearly divided in one sense, I sat earlier today, very obviously, stuck. Certain individuals have their futures cleverly, clearly, or even obsessively planned out, and a career in "the arts" let's say (because I've heard it enough lately) isn't for them. They have chosen to go down a more traditional route, maybe safe, maybe vocational, maybe just something they know will pay their bills and enable them to live comfortably on. While I want all of the above, kind of awkwardly, I push the idea of a career in teaching or something like that, aside. While I know quite a few people close to me are pursuing various degrees in teaching, I know from the bottom of my heart, the pit of my stomach and the blood that races through my veins, that teaching is not for me. I never, ever, have considered a path like that. It just isn't what I see myself doing in ten years. Instead, I've opted for something I'm really passionate about, writing. For years, I've loved the feeling of picking up a pen, and letting my thoughts escape freely onto a page, or a word document, or even more recently, a note app on my phone. I want to share my words, and in doing so, I want people to react. I want my name on a book spine, in a newspaper or a magazine. I want to publish something, get something out there, become read as a person. Flaunt my opinions and let my personality leak through every word I write. 

So, back to the brick wall. After being addressed with this assignment, I realised something. Or rather, something hit me with such a violent force that I felt it could knock me straight into next week. I have little/no experience in the field I want to work in. I've never had anything published, I've never made connections with important people or acquired tips from an agency that could point me in the right direction, along with a good word and a thumbs up for encouragement. While on the one hand, I have never been more sure of anything in my life, that if I don't try to follow this, I'll spend a hell of a lot of time miserable, sinking further into regret, so I have nothing at all to lose. Well, pride maybe. University fees I may never pay back. Self-confidence, but that dwindles unknowingly anyway. I feel like I could really come across well, given the chance, even if on paper, I don't look so appealing. I'm really not sure what I should do. Grab any opportunity tightly between my fingertips and hold on for dear life? Keep everything crossed. Run in totally blind. Stay hopeful. Stay positive. Become an optimist. Learn to believe in myself, and most of all, in my writing ability. 

I'm taking a deep breath, and just giving myself some time to think. The assignment must be done regardless of what I'm debating. I don't know how to, or even if I'm good enough, to get my foot in the door of such a competitive field, but I'm sure as hell going to give it my best shot.

Lucky bitch.

It's Thursday, it's January, and the sun is shining. My dad is sat at the table in my peripheral vision, watching Pulp Fiction. I'm only half-listening, although I've never seen it. My phone is buzzing happily every time I receive a message. A smile sits so effortlessly across my face. It's sixteen days into 2014 and there's a feeling I just can't shift. I honestly can't believe how lucky I am. Okay, side note: I'm getting more absorbed into Pulp Fiction every second, so I'll keep this short yet eloquent. I'm surrounded by the best people ever. I can sit here confidently and swear that the people in my life are some of the best I've ever met. The funniest, kindest, most incredible individuals I could ever know. The people who make me tick. Know me inside out, my good traits and bad habits and stand by me when I need them most. There's certain people I'd honestly do anything for. Recently, I've come to know Amy, a girl who, although we've never met face to face, I consider a very good friend. Amy and I got to know each other basically through blogger and twitter, shared writing, creativity, drunk snapchats and vodka memories. We're hopefully arranging to actually meet in person this year. She's amazing, funny and such a talented writer. I fully believe she's going to be some big-shot writer one day with her latest novel bound in expensive leather backing, and hopefully she'll sign my copy personally. Anyway, that aside, Amy is one of not many people I trust with a hell of a lot. She's one of the strongest people I've ever known, she's been through a lot and yet always comes out of the other side, stronger and more determined than ever. A risk taker. She knows that despite writing being shrugged off by many as a less than conventional career prospect, she's doing it anyway. I can honestly say, I know she will get something published, because if you have enough guts, and enough sheer determination as she has, there's no other outcome, and I find that blindingly wonderful. I'm smiling stupidly, as if I've just been told I've hit the jackpot. You'd think I was lying on a bed, surrounded by a mass of £50 notes, money heaven. Pound signs in my eyes. The cha-Ching of winning something incredible. I'm gushing so much, but I don't care. I know how lucky I am. Surrounded by an amazing family, friends and boyfriend. I can't even begin to describe how strange it is writing that. Lukas is probably grinning reading this. Stop it. I won't be smiling unless you bring me tequila.

:)