In all honesty, this is all I really have to show for the past few days.
I am feeling empty.
I see little relief on the horizon, I am trying to remind myself that it always gets better but something in my bones tells me it won't.
Its getting dark early and when I think too much about the blackness outside, I feel a tightening claustrophobia, contributing to my already tight chest.
The past few weeks have been hard but also enjoyable, I am finding my head cloudy so its hard to reflect but I've spent a lot of drunk hours dancing and I think thats a good way to be.
Its half term (not at school) which I find embarrassingly terrifying, partly because I find it difficult to motivate myself when I am not at school but also because the stresses of summer come back. I feel a failure for not having full days but unable to give myself the break this week is intended for. I am desperate to find the relaxation and enjoyment in time off school but I find it stressful and uncomfortable.
I have topics I want to talk about on here but am unable to find the words to express my thoughts.
But, on Friday I am going  to London to see a real good friend and am meeting my pen-pal for the first time, we are going to a Halloween party which should be fun/terrifying/exhausting-but really, I am excited.
There is positivity, so much of it, sometimes it just needs unearthing.
Anyway, enjoy the collage-it was therapeutically made on Powerpoint, stylish.


Around my room, pegged up on loops of twine, or blue tacked to my mirror, or in a gift bag under my desk, I have physical encapsulations of my life.
Photos, tickets, postcards, letters.
The flittering memories that dance around my mind as I try to focus are engrained in still moments of the past.
Fingering through these makes me nostalgic and empty.
It makes me long for a glorified time that never existed in the pure form it is presented.
I wish for a time that I spent wishing for another time. It's messy.
Curled on the edge of my bed, under a quilt with melancholy music playing in my ears, I am enchanted by the photos that I have framed on my wall.
An image of my friend and I hugging around a birthday cake, bikinis in the north sea, watermelon on a Nicoise balcony, suited and booted before prom, idyllic summer fields and so many of friends and smiles.
And while every pixel is cherished and prized, they make me sad.
The ease and belonging feels arduous and messy and there are faces that belong to personalities I no longer know. Pictures where I have bossily dragged my best pals to the mirror, clad in our black dresses, to take what will be one of my most treasured possessions.
Today, these images feel impossible, complicated with our drifting lives.
I look at their familiar faces and miss the laughter and fun before A-levels and opinions and fears invaded.
A faded image sitting around a camp fire, in an assortment of patterned pyjama items, blankets and scarves, empty pots and pans discarded on the grass. The serene comfort I remember feeling makes me blue, such events become almost impossible to organise as our lives become busier and we move on.
God, I miss them.
They are captured in their purest, happiest forms, rose tinted and deceitfully beautiful. And even if I coerced the participator to pose with me (which I have a habit of doing), it doesn't show.
They are false tickets of the past.
And while I know these memories will be replaced with new ones, new faces will appear and new stories will be told, I can't help but feel the dilution of an integral part of me. Faces that have shared tears and firsts and fears and laughs and memories and have been my absolute insurance for the most formative years are fading and soon I'm going to have to go this journey alone.

It is a dark autumn night and I have been working hard and stressing hard and while such circumstances are prone to tears, I can't help but feel sad about my longing to be crossing a golden field to watch the sun set or dancing in someones living room or curled up watching a movie and feeling at home around the people I have grown up with.


Life is b-u-s-y.

Last weekend was undeniably shit, I was worried about my head and feeling trapped and never enjoying myself.
I've lost those captivating fears as the days have drifted on, they'll return one day.
Over the weekend, I discovered one of my triggers is an empty schedule. I had mixed thoughts about triggers, an annoying fragment of my brain told me that avoiding the trigger is like hiding from the problem. Possibly partially true, but not going to help me get anywhere. I will find my triggers and avoid them.
You should too.

So, I have packed my days. I am busy, perhaps a little too.
I have spent this week bare faced, watching Bridget Jones Baby (fantastic), working (as in earning DOLLA-I have a job!), writing essays, reading books, playing my flute, planning a London trip, going for meals, buying new pens, walking miles and sleeping. I am finding there aren't enough hours in the day to do the things that tend to my soul. I will crash at this rate, but at the moment it feels good.
I've been so busy I haven't watched GBBO.
Friday evening was spent in the place that housed the majority of my 16 year old drunk memories, happily induced by rum and coke, playing cards and taking pics.
It didn't feel as joyous when I had to get up for a train at 5:45 the next day, tired and groggy. I went to Manchester for the open day. The university was totally not my thing, the accommodation was horrific, and would, I know, be disastrous for my mental health and over all it feel uninspiring, incoherent and massive.
After boycotting the talks, we replenished eating mezze in the trees and enriching our minds with art, of which I managed to capture a few prohibited photos.
A raucous train home sat on the floor and I ended up at my pals, playing cards while they drank wine and I refreshed myself with Ribena.
Sunday I made a banana cake and ate it on the beach and washed my plaits that hadn't been touched since Wednesday (rank I know).

What have y'all been up to?

p.s check out my insta