Hormones, or whatever.

We've all been there. The raging feelings, the hideous pain, the not knowing what bitter comment will come leaping out of your poisonous mouth next, and living in fear that you'll just offend everyone you come into contact with. Today, this is me. All I want is cake. 00:04 and it's cake, the chocolatier the better. Maybe a muffin. Maybe a proper cake. Maybe coffee cake, yum. Maybe just like one of those cakes everyone Instagrams with the malteasers and kitkat combinations that look oh-so-simple and yet really arty and delish? Perhaps. I don't even know. My brain isn't working, my eyes feel sore and strained and I start my FINAL EVER semester of uni on Monday. The end is nigh. Looming scarily. Employment as a graduate is on the horizon. Making me feel like I could vomit at any moment. I don't know what's around the next corner and at this precise moment, curled up in my quilt feeling sorry for my grouchy self, I don't even think I care. 

Departure.

In less than 48 hours, I'll be departing Newcastle airport and arriving in Ibiza. The pilot will announce over the receiver the local time and the temperature outside, and be greeted with a few hundred passengers all cheering happily. Excitement brews. Prospects are all over the place. A week, two weeks? Ten days? All of these people have something in common, a holiday destination. And yet, they'll all have very different holidays. 

A girly holiday is our chosen plan. Betty, Steph, Sarah and myself are ready to hit the white isle for a second battering after last year's drunken antics. This time, with a little bit more money, a year's worth of preparing our livers, and an even more desperate need for a tan. 

This time however, things are different. I'm excited to go away, but there are things pulling my back. Ties I've made. Things I don't want to leave, not even for seven days. Excitement in the air, a tear in my eye and euros in my purse, I'm ready. Well, okay, that's a lie. My suitcase isn't even packed. The flight is Monday afternoon. I literally finished shopping for stuff today. I'm very, very disorganised and it's totally not like me, at all. My camera isn't free of photos, my iPod isn't stocked up with new songs, my money isn't properly sorted. I'm out of sorts. It hasn't quite hit me properly that I'm actually going away. Part of me still thinks it should be January or something. Madness. Let it begin.