Grinning.

As the rain clatters violently at the windows, my smile never falters once. And it's all down to you. My favourite human, my best friend and my boyfriend. We've known each other for just over two years now, been friends on-and-off for about 20 months, and in a relationship for what is almost a year and a half (next week.) Maybe I'm still in shock, in awe of you, and us. You're the first and last person I think of every day, and the reason I get out of bed in the morning. I'm forever thankful you never gave up on me all those months ago, and even more so you've stuck by me now. We've argued and momentarily wanted to kill each other, but on the whole, you make me happier than I ever imagined was possible. You bring out the best in me, and I in you, I hope. There's not a part of you I couldn't trace from memory, as it feels like your outline is imprinted onto my retinas. You're the warm fuzzy feeling when it's cold out and I'm not feeling well, the grin that lights up my face even when I'm low, and the aching muscles in my stomach, and the tears running down my face from fits of laughter. You're honestly the best thing to ever happen to me. 18 months and counting, Lukas. Feels like we've known each other forever, and yet this is only the beginning. 

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.

Distraction tactics.

Today, for the first time in what seems like forever, I picked up my laptop, opened Blogger and found myself needing to write. Inspired may not be the word I would choose. Instead, I had the urge to write through my mixed-up emotions in my head. The reason I actually started blogging in the first place. For ages now, it's felt like I've neglected my writing, and more specifically my love for writing. My relationship with words has been rocky, tumultuous, strained. I've had too much work to do for uni, too much stress and weight on my shoulders, and after days of my head being filled with workloads and textbook theory, I grew resentful of the words I had to write, rather than the ones I enjoyed, and chose to use.

This isn't to say that I haven't written anything in a while. I always write. I write myself notes at 2 in the morning when I wake up with cold feet and a restless feeling in my chest. I type out thoughts and musings on my phone in the 'Notes' bit, just to get my emotions down, rather than being solely in my head. I send my boyfriend, and a few of my friends, huge, convoluted paragraphs of my thought processes, writing ideas, and just general ramblings.

Today, I feel the need to write things down. There's a lot going on that my head can't quite fathom, so writing and mumbling into the vast sphere of the internet appears to be my chosen coping mechanism. Let's just hope this all works. Let's just hope this all works out.

Blind hope.

You're laughing and joking and making plans, for the weekend, and the summer, and the future, and then suddenly life throws another curveball and everyone just stands there, looking at it, like, 'SHIT.' 

I am lying in bed, cocooned in my quilt, and I can't shift the attitude that life just isn't fair. Certain individuals seem to be handed the worst of hands, and it doesn't seem right, or okay, or fair at all. With crossed fingers and toes, tense chests and heavy hearts, we hope things turn out okay. There is no other option, nothing else we can bare to entertain. This is the only outcome we can fathom, so no pressure, SCRATCH THAT, all the pressure in the world is on your shoulders, because after all, even Duffy Moon can do it. 

It's you again.

Maybe she's old-fashioned,  but she'd say she was traditional. 

I never was one of those little girls who dreamt about being rescued and marrying their sweetheart. Never. Not once. I didn't have a string of on-off romances through my teens, a whirlwind love affair at any point, and yet something in me changed. I can't even recall when I first felt like this, but I can just say that now, at the age of 21, I'm very much a romantic. 

There was a time I'd scoff at my friends receiving cheesy, gushing Valentine's Day cards and teddies  holding heart-shaped cushions. When I'd see a couple kissing in the street and avert my eyes, sighing. I'd come to associate romance with a sickly feeling in the back of my throat, a fakeness to it, a childishness. And then, I met someone. 

I've never ever imagined a future with anyone until I met you. I'd never even entertained a marriage, never mind anything more than that. Overtime, I've become someone my old self wouldn't even recognise, and yet I welcome the changes. I'm a happier person because of you. The romantic side of me has flourished, and not before time. You're the person I now cannot picture my life without. You're part of me, and I'll walk over broken glass before I let you go. 

You've changed me, and I welcome those changes. I'm a happier, healthier person. You've made me proud to be who I really am. The romantic side of me is truly alight. Because, why not?! 

There's nothing better than flowers just because they're pretty and he thought she'd like them. A little surprise is cute and thoughtful, and that beats expense hands down. Sometimes, all she want is for him to wake her up and say "I'm taking you out for breakfast" just for the hell of it. She sees a future with him, as he holds the door open for her, grabs the bill, does the chivalrous thing extremely well when he can. She has a lot of admiration for a man who isn't afraid to compliment his girl and show her off. She's always waiting to be whisked off her feet at a moments notice, even if that's for a coffee and some cake. She'll hold your hand like her life depends upon it, smile at you like you're her entire world, and wake up every morning with you dancing in her thoughts. She already knows she will hold on to you before she ever says it aloud. She will make you work for it. She will test you. She will push you to your limits if she thinks you may be the one for her. She'll tell you what she wants, what she loves and what she hates. She'll tell you what she expects from you, even if she never has to say it out loud. She wants to be wooed, she wants to be spoiled, but most of all, she wants to feel loved. 

The Dissertation nightmare

It has just occurred to me that it's been ages since I posted anything here, and not that I am under the impression that my (ha!) readers are eagerly awaiting the next update in my boring life with bated breath, but still, I like the fact that someone may be reading my chaotic ramblings, and getting something out of them. I've been busy to say the least. I should be busy right now, but I'm nursing a massive tequila fuelled hangover, and am lying on my bed, feeling bloated from a massive Nandos feast, so yep, I am not being the constructive person I need to be. My final uni assignments are due in 7th May. After that, it's game over. I will officially be out of the education system after years of school, sixth form and university. As of July, I will be awarded my DEGREE!!! What! I know, I can't believe it either. Still a few hurdles to go, but the one suggested in the title is settled at least. 

My dissertation. The thing I was dreading the most. 8,000 words of prose. I pride myself in being able to write prose at ease, and yet I underestimated the workload. I took on a massive challenge in my piece's structure, and it's taken me months of drafting, reading, redrafting, moaning, swearing and sending passive-aggressive stressy emails to my tutor, but finally, it's done. I need it binding and handing in to the office, and then that's a weight off my shoulders. With a Shakespeare essay, and an Eastenders portfolio still to tackle though, I can't relax just yet. With the aim to finish my work almost a week early, I am stressy! I'm uninspired, bored and just ready for a break. I have absolutely no career path in mind. I have no future prospects that are practical or in any way probable. I want to write. It is my passion. It runs through my veins and it is the only thing that has ever come naturally to me. To pursue a career in it, would be life changing. I'm a bit lost though, as I am a student and I need the money, as I'll soon have over £30,000 of student debt (HAHAHAHA WHAT.) and I have no idea how much money that is, and I'll never know. But still, I hope I get somewhere after three gruelling years of hard work, stress and tears. I've met some lovely people at uni, had some genuinely brilliant laughs, learned things I wouldn't even imagine, and yet, given my time over, I'm not sure I would make the same choices again. For me, uni, even from living at home, has been hard. I am not a naturally gifted person. I work hard for my marks, I've had three 1st marks in as many years, and I honestly felt like framing them, because I was shocked and proud to get those marks. I've never ever not put work in and fluked something. I'm the kind of person who has to read the novels, revise the plays, recite the poems, turn up with annotated copies of things, make notes in lectures and pay attention to what I'm told. Nothing about these last three years has been easy. There were times I've been ready to chuck the towel in, ups and downs like you'd never believe, and not just in my uni life, but it's been an experience all the same. 

there will be a certain amount of nostalgia when we raise a glass to the last three years, say a fond farewell to our fellow students and step out into the cruel wide world as graduates, as adults with degrees who are supposed to have their shit together. I'll miss it, maybe not for the reasons I should, but God, there will be a teary moment somewhere down the line. I'm leaving what I've always known, because it's time, I guess. It's time to be the person I've become. 

Disappearing.

Somewhere amongst the ridiculous levels of procrastinating and the recovery from

Christmas, it turned March today. In the blink of an eye, I feel like everything about the last two months vanished. Today I can't cope. I'm achey and displaying too many boring cold symptoms, so I majorly can't be arsed with the dreaded uni work. 

It's week seven of my 12 week semester (not to mention it's my LAST EVER semester at uni) and I'm lagging. I've turned from mild effort to blind avoidance when it comes to my deadlines, until I'm a puddle of stressy tears the night before with 0 words written and the submission time looming. After just reading an article from my uni's online newspaper, The Tab, I got thinking. Maybe if I gave up social media, for a short space of time, I'd get a hell of a lot more done instead of spending my time complain-tweeting, posting useless sad emojis on Facebook and Instagramming my 'workload' rather than being active in reducing it. So here's the experiment. 

As of 12pm today, Sunday 1st March, I go AWOL. Abstain from social media, even blogging. Maybe if I just turn my notifications off, and pay more attention to my student workload that appears forever mounting atm, I'll feel better about myself and I won't be as stressed. Here goes. 

(I bet I'll manage about four hours, if that)