Days like these, lead to, nights like ours.

Life really is what happens while you're busy making other plans. At least that's what I've found recently. I'm currently lying on my bed wrapped up in an oversized hoody, mulling over the last few days and realising how much happened without my noticing. (Let's ignore the fact I spent this weekend wasted.) Even so, there's a lot happened, either in my absence or just things I did not see coming. I'm a worrier by default, so I spend almost every waking hour stressing about something or other. Whether it's being late, forgetting something, uni work, relationships or just something happening at home, I'm a total, complete stress-head. I can't help it, I think I was born that way. (No, that's not an intentional Lady Gaga paraphrase there!) So, I've suddenly, it seems, took a back-seat kind of approach when it comes to stressing about things I have no hold or impact over. If the bus is late, it's late, there's nothing I can do. If I spill boiling hot candle wax down my new outfit (I actually did this last week) there's no point getting pissed about it. If someone acts in a way that you'd rather they didn't, again, you cannot change that. Other people, specifically in this scenario, make their own beds (Laura, Sarah: are you two laughing if you're reading this at that reference there!) in the same way that my words, and my actions are things I have to deal with. No one can stop me from doing something I want to do, and at the same time, I'm unable to control or predict the words and actions of those around me, even if that would be quite a handy skill to have from time to time. My newfound laid back  approach (who laughed? Oh yeah, me) to my surprise, actually was beneficial. It turns out, all the old age sayings like "a watched pot never boils" and the like, are more relevant than I ever realised. Patience, it turns out, is a virtue. Que sera sera and all that jazz. Things unfold the way they are meant to. So stressing about it makes no odds at all. Who knew, after months of stressing over, crying over, drinking over something so silly would turn out to sort itself out, AND for the better. I guess the universe really does have it's funny little way of resolving everything in its own time. 

I can't help it, I'm a worrier.

Even when I deny it, and perhaps, inwardly conceal it, I still worry. Constantly. Sometimes it's just a little niggling in the back of my mind, other times, I'm almost quietly sick to my stomach mulling over a situation I can't control or predict the outcome of. This time, I don't even know. At the minute, I feel like I've got no one to talk to about something I need to speak about. Despite my lovely, wonderful support system of friends and family, I don't have anyone I can or want to talk about this with. Is that strange? I don't know. Does anyone else feel like this? Maybe so. I feel like I'm questioning my own judgement, even though I trust myself when it comes to decisions that will have a big impact on my life. It's complicated. Oh, the cliché. I know. I don't need advice, I need someone to confirm my own feelings, my own impulses, my own wants and needs. I want someone else to tell me I'm doing the right thing. Scratch that, I want everyone around me to back the decision I'm going to make even if they don't agree with it, because my happiness should be more important to them. I think I may be on to something good here, and I won't let anyone spoil it. Worrier or not, I trust my instincts, and the bottom line is, despite all the comments, the looks, the words of warning, I trust you.

Anything but proud.

Well well well, the binge has been five days now. I've not really stopped drinking (until now) since Tuesday afternoon. I'm one big tequila-ruined mess. I'm a liability, obviously. Apparently "a tease" and "a bad influence." According to some anyway. I'm shaking I'm so hungover. Last night is a mixture of dirty knees, gag reflexes, bad singing, worse dancing and ridiculous antics. Hilarious, cringe-worthy and worth every penny of the £40 I threw at the bar staff. I must stop now. I might look over the last five days (and nights) with grins and grimaces, and a few tears (I'm not sure whether they're happy or sad) but there's one thing I'm not, proud. I don't think I can be. I smell of smoke (why?) and all I can taste is tequila and hairspray (WHUT?) I've got a few drunken, huffy texts and thank god, not many photos to document it. Also.. I must stop using "well at least I'm not boring" as an excuse to do stupid things. I'm feeling the backlash. Indirectly, if what I've heard turns out to be true, I may end up throwing a four-year-old style tantrum. Just a warning. I'm disgraceful. 

Enough.

There really is so much pressure surrounding us these days, that it's hard to get anything right. How do you get something down to a T when odds are on that you'll mess up fifty times before you could ever do something half-decent? Night spent tossing and turning, taking your passivity out on your duvet and even occasionally right-hooking your pillows when the agitation gets too much. And why? What's the reason? Worrying. I don't know about the rest of you (presuming, perhaps vainly, that there is someone reading this) but I worry about everything. That's right. Anything you can fix your mind on, I worry about. From the usual stuff like being late, or embarrassing myself in front of someone *important* or academic achievements, to totally outrageous and unlikely things that aren't probable at all.

Worrying about not being thin enough, or clever enough, or pretty enough, or tall enough, or loud enough, or confident enough, or fashion able enough, or independent enough, or happy enough, or plain-and-simple, no-sugar-coating-necessary, just being not enough. I think that's probably my biggest fear (if you discount moths, lifts, heights and bridges, that is.) Maybe I won't live up to everyone's expectations, and then what? What on earth would I do? If I don't live up to my own, my degree is wasted, and my dream is in tatters? My family would be so disappointed and slightly disgraced, my friends would try to help but there wouldn't be much to say to console me. After all, I am difficult at the best of times.

Anyway, you can see how my stream-of-consciousness thinking has a tendency to get out-of-hand. I do this a lot. And I mean, not just like once or twice a month, or every time Comedy Central puts adverts in between their day-long re-runs of Friends, but a lot indeed. I'm really insecure, and when it comes down to it, I don't have enough self-confidence to brush these doubts and worries under the carpet, so my head gets a little done in from time to time. So, this isn't even one of those little philisophical blog posts reflecting on life, this is merely just life as it is, for me. This is me saying, hello, I'm insecure, a total worrier and I don't know how to change it.

That's it. That's all.