ugh

A brain dump.
Yes, my last post was an existential crisis. And this one is too. But I feel sad.
So here's my head.
In its most vulnerable fashion.
I feel lonely. I feel socially lonely and romantically lonely.
I feel bleurgh about the fact I have so few friends in this stagnant city, that they're dispersed across the country and are living their separate lives and I feel shit about spending my nights alone, even though I sort of enjoy this. I also don't want to make new friends in this city of mine because I'm so ready to move on and away but then also do want to because I need newness. I feel fucked that my gap year isn't "fucking wild" but just sort of life and that's not what its supposed to be (this is, in fact, what its supposed to be because its just another part of life but societal expectations etc)...and that other people have so many friends and are having so much fun and hey shouldn't I be doing that? (shouldn't I be getting smashed every night to prove I'm having the time of my life, whilst simultaneously filling incessant gaps in my mental health? Shouldn't I be spending every night out loving life? Will I ever feel like I'm loving life?)
also.
WILL PEOPLE STOP FUCKING ASKING ME IF I'M "uhm travelling in your gap year?" GET OFF MY BACK BEFORE I CRUMBLE INTO A PILE OF SELF LOATHING.

((vulnerability)) I am craving romantic engagement, I am lusting after investment and interest and someone just to talk to. I fear commitment and attachment but also just want something. To understand how I truly feel about about this topic read Zoe's post because she talks about what I'm too lol awkward to talk about and I'm shit at openness beyond existentialism.
Yeh. I feel very alone. 
Okay. Katie, stop with the italics.

But I also know for the good bits (trips to Budapest, Manchester, Paris, Barcelona, Birmingham, Brighton–yes, self recognise there's so much good happening) the shit has to happen, you have to work to have money to survive to have fun.

I know these are just January blues. And they will pass. But they also feel like they are plunging me into an abyss of darkness, under a cloak of stagnation, as though nothing around me is changing. Where do I meet new people (that don't live 10,000 miles away from me who I can only see for 3 hours every 3 months) who are fun and save me from loneliness but also not too invested; I descended into a sort of pathetic sporadic mess of tears after I fell in love (realised I fall in love much too easily) and then was discarded after the most superficial engagement so fuck, what's the real thing going to be like?

I also feel unwholey (that isn't even a word) unmotivated. In e-v-e-r-y way; I spend my mornings before work achieving approximately 2 things on a list of 10 and this makes me feel like I'm simply surviving and its grating on my mental health. I feel as though I'm pushing up a hill with a massive fucking boulder on my shoulders. I want to read and run and do yoga and mindfulness and write and create and meet people and change the world but I'm just plagued with the nausea of anxiety.
And it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Another realisation: getting so smashed you can't remember what happened isn't, in actuality, that fun, despite forever thinking it successfully removes inhibitions. It just sort of messes up your life for the next few days.

Fu-uh-ck.

some good things: Libby (meeting for a drink, even if only for a few hours), Manchester (a night away with my best friends, feeling so at home in their hearts, having insurmountable fun and drama), travelling (booking a trip to Budapest with said friends, plans to travel to Barcelona alone (!) which is a serious bucket list amirite???, Paris), writing (because it isn't really helping at the moment, but it will), makeup (because its the only thing making me feel marginally good about myself atm).

Even writing this doesn't feel that therapeutic. I just don't feel like myself. In my head, I categorise periods of time with feelings. January will be a bad feeling.

The final panic. Oxford. (yeh I'm so lucky its like the second best uni in the fucking world but I've gotta keep it real and I'm freaking oooout). I haven't written an essay in like 7 months (how do I do it again?) and don't have the motivation to reengage with the subject. I'm also freaking out that its not the uni experience that society tells me I want but I don't actually really want. I crave a mix of clubbing and antics and academia and fun and hard work but am so stressed I won't find it. And I won't survive and I won't meet my people and will hate it (but I'd be freaking out wherever I was going so its ok.)

Okay. I feel so very far from myself right now.
Will these feelings pass.
I feel like I'm going to throw up.


so yeah. someone love me (because i don't love myself) and save me (because i can't save myself)
(yes i can. i've done it before)

(fuck count in this post: 8 (sorry if my profanity offends you))