Friday, 22 July 2011

Part 2.

The thing I was afraid of happening again, happened. The blog entry never did have a part two, but alas the situation did.

I know you're angry with me, and I'm sorry. I really am. I know it seems so simple; the things that I should and shouldn't do to avoid yet another of those nights, easily avoidable? But it's not. It's not. I'm sorry, I didn't want it to happen again, either... But I don't have an excuse and I won't insult you by trying to come up with one. I WILL make it up to you, but right now I just need to know you won't walk away from me. I know you don't need this and I'm hard work... God, guilt. Ooft.

Friday, 15 July 2011

Not too shabby.

I'm not feeling too bad. I can still feel the black dogs, they're out there somewhere, but they're less insistent- their hunger is diminished somewhat and they're not snarling at my feet. I think it's because I know I'm leaving. Leaving Scunthorpe and this dread, for some time in Essex. Then Bedford. Belfast. And probably some time in Coventry and hopefully Berlin before the end of the summer. I always thought I was quite settled, I needed to be grounded, but I've learnt that I'm really not- I need constant movement; I need to be in flight always, to know that everything is not going to stay the same. I think it's my optimism. Through everything, even when I think I'm certain that I think nothing is getting better, I am an optimist. If I was brave enough, I'd acknowledge, in those moments, that things can get better but sometimes the fight it'd take to improve matters seems too great and it's easier to swear defeat. Sometimes, things are so bad and I can't see more than 5 minutes into the future. I'm afraid to look further, to think of any possibilities besides the present, because I feel too stuck. That's it, that's exactly what this all is- I'm terrified of being stuck, whether physically or otherwise, because that signals that things can't get better and that's against everything I live for, any hope.

I was budgeting earlier today- working out how I'm going to afford getting to my boyfriend's and then how I'm going to have any money when I go to Ireland in a few weeks and then, as an after thought, how I'll pay my next lot of rent. Then I got depressed because there will always be a bill that needs paying. I'm adult and, all going to plan, I'll be an adult for a long time. I feel like I've been an adult for as long as I can remember, but these are new responsibilities, aside from the adult pressures I always felt. And that's one thing I mustn't try to run from.

But I don't think running away is always necessarily a bad thing, sometimes you have to run because attempting fighting is nonsensical. If a car is hurtling towards you, you get out of the way, you don't stand there- you can't win that fight. And that's ok. I've learnt that confrontation for confrontation's sake is pointless- I can get away, I can keep in more or less constant flux now, and so that's my plan. I can't shake the feeling that something bad is coming, but as long as I just keep moving...

(have I ever told you how I rarely sit still? ;))

Friday, 8 July 2011

A mustard skirt.

I just bought a mustard coloured, knee-length jersey pencil skirt. It sounds horrific, but you'll find one of these days that pretty much all of my clothes are pretty nightmare-ish, it's howz I likez 'em. The thing with it is, it's like a second skin and j'ai l'horreur de mes cuisses. But shit kids, I look fit as owt in it. I have nowt really more to say about it, I just wanted to brag about how sexy I look in mustard pencil skirts.

I got my uni results yesterday, 66%. So a 2:1. I'd have been disappointed if, when everything was going peachier last year, I'd have been told that I'd get a 2:1 for the year. But as it is, I suppose it's alright- there's not a lot I can do about it now, anyway. Considering how ill I've been and how little work I did (I revised a few hours per exam. I'm starting to think I'm a genius ;)) and everything, IT'S ALRIGHT. Just means I'll have to get myself a first next year, at least this year doesn't really count for owt.

Wednesday, 6 July 2011

Scales.

2 months without them and I come home and are a slave to them again, within a week? But whilst I'm steadily losing weight, I can't bring myself to care. It's better for my body than all the vom'? Better to lose steadily than to go up and down so drastically? I feel better in myself, more likely to go outside? Calmer Condron, ooft.

Ohhh, I need to stop rationalising what can't be rationalised.

Monday, 4 July 2011

Black cloud.

I have the biggest black cloud hanging over me right now. I don't know what's up, I really don't. I don't know whether it's a physical (coming to terms with the fact that OH, ALRIGHT I may be a touch alco-dependent, as my shrink likes to think. But honestly, just a touch- I'm not quite the raving alcoholic that I like to think of myself as, when I'm feeling ESPECIALLY dramatic) or whether it's mental- just me being an angsty fuck, even more of an angsty fuck than usual; I'm awful at working out my feelings. I'm... I'm not exactly depressed, but I'm incredibly anxious and that's keeping me bitchy and snappy and pretty much always close to tears.

I don't know, it might just be the empty days I need to fill here in Scunthorpe, before I go back to Essex in a few weeks.

Gawwwwwd. I need to relax and I'm failing miserably at it. I make out that I'm dead lazy, but I'm such a faffer that I'm constantly on the go or have a project or SOMETHING. Relaxing makes me nervous. But my body is so tired. The results of my blood tests from last week came back with a bit of a warning- not as perfect as they usually are. Not by a stretch. No matter how ill I got, whatever I did to it, my body bounced back. But right now it's tired and doesn't reeeeeeally want to humour my disorder. Body versus disease, dear me.