Its a sunday night and I finally have time to write. Fuck, life is so busy nd good nd stressful, and every day feels like the most intense and vivid lifetime in the space of 24 hours. Every day I experience so many emotions and thoughts and wow its tiring. But amazing. But tiring.
I have so much to write about and think about, but now I have the space and the time its not coming.

Since I last wrote I have:
Started a French course (because I don't have enough work!), got drunk, danced a lot, ran a bit, marvelled at the beauty of this city, in the sun, in the snow, in the rain, seen a lot of sunsets, tanned very badly, laughed endlessly, drunkenly cried, had the most sensational ball, not slept enough, drank too much coffee, had a formal dinner, been to some interesting talks, stressed a lot, missed my cat, missed my mum, bought daffodils, been on a crew date, eaten a lot of chocolate, done a yoga class, loved my friends a lot, hated myself a bit, and spent endless hours in the library reading.
Its been amazing and exhausting, and I think that sums up this city. The hours spent with friends, evenings laughing and debating, or at the pub, or in a sunny spot in the library, or drinking tea, they're so sweet. I just need to balance those epochs of euphoria with the spiralling thoughts. The days feel so long and intense and varied, these moments sort of get forgotten with the trudge of reading and washing and cooking, and living u know. I need to challenge this.
There are some other actual things I want to talk about, so I can stop thinking about them.
I sometime wonder what's too much, u know. What should be etched on paper, not on the internet. Probably most of it.
Self-worth. This induced the hysterical tears at 3am, drunkenly storming ahead on the way home. Dramatic nd rum-influenced, but also sort of true. I think its an amalgamation of romantic disaffection and aesthetic discomfort and endlessly (irrationally) questioning whether my friends actually like me and then being a dick because of said insecurity but feeling worse. Wow! And everyone around my is in love or loved or at least liked and I'm enough on my own, but also am I. What about me!?
I also feel fu-ck-in stupid nd am invaded with imposter syndrome, which probably doesn't aid this lack of worth. Last term I didn't care, fuck it! I'm here! But, something about this term, is different. I am working so hard but also so behind and don't understand a lot of what I read nd some of the conversations and references and discussions we have I'm just. stumped. There is a fundamental discussion that needs to be had about access after acceptance. Yes, outreach is getting better nd yes these equal opportunities are great, but fuck, how can a special-measures-inner-city-northern-comp-with-below-average-results compare to Westminster, or the grammar schools that everyone seems to have come from. It can't. But, as always, we've just got to run 10x further. And feel perpetually disaffected.

 I've been battling with control a lot recently. My thoughts and brain dumps are generally somewhat flippant and hyperbolised, but this is a consuming anxiety. A perpetual need to be in control of every faucet of my day. Of the precise time spent working, of the food consumed, the food cooked, the money spent, the routine, exercise done, the plans organised. Not managing these mundane aspects makes me feel on edge and, well, out of control. This deffs isn't a good thing. Hmm.
But, alas. Things are good. Just a bit headsy, and not many places to dump the thoughts.
I have a week of madness coming up. Feminist fun nd friends and birthdays and 2 essays and my parents visiting, but I need to fit in a run and sleep and some time alone, because I don't get enough of that.
Hope u are all well. Stay sweet!!!

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