he made me a tape of joy division, he told there was a part of him missing, when I was sixteen, he jumped off a building

Reading The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath and listening to a bit of Perfume Genius. I feel like I should be inspired but actually the book is just comforting to find a character with the same mindset as me. I shall waste away like Esther Greenwood being stuck with too many thoughts of what could be to comprehend, ironically leaving me with no future at all. Although I probably won't stop sleeping and eating and reading like she did, I can draw similarities in our ideas.

"...everything people did seemed so silly, because they only died in the end."

I have conversations in my head about this far too often.

So now I am resigned within myself slightly, whilst thinking from Plath's perspective. Perceiving people quietly, left to wallow in thoughts that don't mean anything really. They are just thoughts. We are just people.

If I lie here that little bit longer doing nothing, what does it matter? The days will stretch on, and on, and everything is just repetition. Everything,

But someday, someone will find me and think I am as wonderful and quirky as Sylvia Plath deserved to be thought of. I love her writing style and if she was like that as a person she deserved more than to let her put her head in an oven and die.

If I ever tried to kill myself I think I'd want to drown.

Wade into the sea, have my clothes and hair swirl about me as I floated until I lost all energy, taking a last breath, submerge myself under. I would look celestial underwater, embraced by water that just longs to occupy my alveoli. And who am I to deny it of that? I am 78% water. Who am I to stop it from reclaiming the rest of my body?

Although drowning isn't like that. You can't give over your life gracefully when drowning. You splutter and retch up the water, coughing, choking. You might mentally be ready for it but your body will never be. There is such thing as too much of a good thing. Too much water, my lungs would scream, too much water.

I know this is how it would be, but I'd still want to drown.

I'm such a happy person.

Oh well.

Anyway, photos from my phobias photoshoots. I'm quite looking forward to this photography exam in fact.

Chiraptophobia- fear of being touched.

if you want me gone there are kinder ways to say so long than spitting in my face

Okay so you made it pretty obvious you were talking about me.

I don't like my cynicism anymore than you do but that is why I write a blog, so that I don't have to waste up time with people I love moaning (even if I do still do it a tiny bit).

You don't know what's happening around me right now, I can't bring myself to talk about it on here because I always avoid stuff like this. It's not even to do with me so why should I lament on and on about it making others upset?

Let me have my outlet for fucks sake. Do you want me to keep stuff in like I used to? Do you remember what that did to me- what you did to me?

And anyway, what fucking right do you have to criticise me? Do you remember what you used to be like?

You really pissed me off, I was happy before I read all that shit you've been spouting about happiness and having a balance of good and bad. A balance? You think you have a fucking balance? You used to have panic attacks at the thought of hurting me. Calm the fuck down is pretty accurate in that case. Other times I saw you, you were overly relaxed on everything from drugs to schoolwork. You took "being balanced" to ridiculous lengths.

Fuck off why don't you.

your heart is like a hand-me-down, something to pass around and around

I rescued my old scribblings off my (pretty much) destroyed laptop. Most of them are shit, especially the first few I wrote. The ones nearer the end I don't even remember writing but they're aren't toooo awful even if I can't remember what they're about. For example:

The heat worked me into a fever from within which I drowned

Swallowed the humid air like gulping down syrup

Smudged face under the hidden storms where I was found

I have a sweet tooth but I can feel my molars rot

If I speak in the power of three, everything will be imperative

But I can count on one hand how much we got

With fragile fingers we push away the more vital fixations

For the frivolity of being childish and angry

Yet I can't handle anything without a degree of trepidation

I can keep my back to the fire butwhat if it starts to burn brighter

What if it starts to singe the base of my spine and I

I can almost feel the carbon monoxide constrict my throat tighter

The static from rough fibres creating friction

Is just short of filling the spaces between sentences

And I am forevermore polishing up my diction

Floating in a haze

I don't remember what the hell was going on when I wrote this. Oh well, makes it more interesting to read back when you have no clue what's going on I guess?

So I'm satisfactorily happy. Shit hits the fans but realising people are still there after it all (which is a weird and strangely enough, new feeling for me) well it's pretty cool. Like I'm not overly close to them but they'll still stand up for me, still talk to me when things go wrong, still be there when I need to moan. I'm no longer being abandoned. It's nice but I'm not used to it so I end up being a slightly awkward figure of a friend. Which is probably why I still feel I'm at a distance from them at the same time as being friends. It's a really disconcerting feeling being on the edges and at the centre all at once.

Summer feels daunting for once. Six weeks seems so much longer than I imagined. I'm not even going abroad this holiday. I used to waste weeks with nothing to do, or just with trips to the same park, the same day repeating itself over and over. But its different this year. I have to balance myself between him and them and they don't seem to want me more often than most. Sometimes he doesn't want me either.

I feel strangely in limbo with everything. When you float through everything without allowing yourself to catch on the edges then everything will become numb eventually. Things mean so much but they aren't anything in context. Is there any point in getting worked up? What is the point at all?

I have to drink to feel things, I have to hurt people, I have to do things I shouldn't and be screamed at and told that I'm worthless and be kicked in the stomach and be hated and be loved. I need extremes or I feel like I'm floating away from everything. When did I become so cold to everything? I'm always doing this. I'm always avoiding the bad stuff.

I'm not sure what matters anymore. I just keep wandering and getting lost within myself. I feel so self centred and so ignorant but I can't help it.

Us.

and now I'm dying, as a message to the town this' what happens if you fuck around

I'm feeling very much on display. Stand me on a plinth and stare and stare and stare.

Let uneducated minds judge and those who ought to know better whisper.

I thought you were better than this. I really hoped you were.

I feel incredibly weary of this. I don't understand why it keeps happening. We should know better by now.

They don't even know me.

I'm starting to wonder if you do.

I pity you though. After tomorrow, well, I don't know who you have left to piss off. I don't like being harsh to people I honestly don't. But you need to know that it's not right. You need to know you're out of order.

You might not see it from where you stand right now but once we explain just, take a step back and look at yourself.

Are you happy doing this to people?

Do you honestly need the attention that much?

If you cry I will not be impressed.

Even if that is hypocritical.

I reckon we can get through this. I don't hold grudges. You seem sorry enough.

But did you even stop to think it's not just me you're hurting.

I don't care what they think of me. They've thought worse. I haven't done anything wrong.

But think about him.

You are fucking lucky he doesn't care so much about it anymore.

We might not be so close anymore, but I still confided in you and to have you frivolously tell strangers... This has happened with people other than me as well. Have you realised at all? You seem a bit wrapped up in your own problems. It's fair enough, essentially we are all self centred creatures and I haven't really been told full stories about what's going on with you but like, have the slightest bit of consideration for other people.

I'm sorry if you read this and it upsets you.

But I felt the need to say it.

I'm sure you understand?

Hopefully. Maybe. Eventually.

second check the odds, was it worth the cost, do you give a toss?

I'm happy, I'm really happy and I don't know why.

I don't have much of a reason to be happy, if anything I have (more than one) reason to NOT be happy but yeah. Happiness, Weird isn't it?

Maybe because I have completely given up caring about my end of years.

Maybe because my friends are being lovely.

Maybe because he is always generally lovely.

I'm lucky, lucky, lucky.

I don't write enough nice things in here. Most of my blog is quite depressing. I apologise for that.

Life is good. It's never that good, but it is good. Proof?

LIST OF GOOD THINGS*

- Photography/ polaroids/ DSLRs /developed film/ proper old cameras/ darkrooms

- The millions of bands I love muchos (this list would be farfarfar too long if I listed all of them)

- Chip shops

- Spending lunchtimes in my school recording studio

- THAT APPLE TURNOVER THING THEY WERE SELLING AT MY SCHOOL CANTEEN TODAY. OMGOSH THAT WAS SO NOM.

- When it's sunny with enough of a breeze to keep you cool, but not cold

- Beds

- Adrenaline

- Really pointless magazines

- Really good lyrics

- Kissing

- Cider/ general alco-pops

- Ellerbisms (check it out)

- Lettuce

- Penguins/ tortoises/ pandas/ any type of bear really

- Him him him him him

*(does not include everything single thing good ever, just a few things for the time being)

This makes me happy.

(For those of you who it is too small to see, if you click on it it should get bigger? Probably?)

in supermarkets they turn the lights off when they want you to leave, but in discos they turn them on

Okay totally in love Los Campesinos yet again. So fucking good.

And I get to see them at Underage Festival this year! YAAAY!

Been looking forward to it for like half a year now. So happy to find them on the line up. Must remember, they're on the Tango Stage.

Other people I am looking forward to seeing:

-Crystal Castles

-Everything Everything

-Late Of the Pier Sound System

-Micachu and the Shapes

even

-MIA

-Lightspeed Champion

-Jakwob

-Darwin Deez

-Egyptian Hip Hop

even fucking

-Unicorn Kid

-Tinie Tempah

-Tinchy Stryder

-Chiddy Bang

ought to be a laugh

Looking forward to it so much since last year I went was bloody brilliant.

Not much left to say, except that THIS MAN IS THE FUCKING SEX.

Oh yes, gotta love some Gareth Campesinos!

makin' sure nightmares turn up in your dreamin'

Right that's decided on then. My theme's going to be phobias.

Possible/probable ones I could do:

Geliophobia- fear of laughter

Claustrophobia- fear of enclosed spaces

Chiraptophobia- fear of being touched

Cacophobia- fear of ugliness

Hynophobia- fear of sleep

Kenophobia- fear of empty spaces

Ligyrophobia- fear of loud noises

Panophobia- fear of everything

I've already done some photos for Lygophobia (fear of darkness). The picture below probably being the best one. Shoved a light bulb up his shirt whilst it was turned on.

The photo below is one of the photos of me. My hair looks a nice colour.

Hmm... I need to get a group of models together, in quite a few of my photos I need a crowd of people. Anyone reading this, you're invited to help out? Volunteer for me please? I will be grateful.

So fucking bored and jealous of those at that party right now. "Yeah, we're going to throw a piss up in the park, sure, come along!"... "Um, now we're having it at her house... I don't know if you're invited... Uh she probably wouldn't mind if you came along? No? OKAY THEN"

WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING TO ME?

You know what, I might as well fuck it and become a social recluse, it wouldn't make much difference anyway.

THERE IS NO FUCKING POINT EVEN TRYING, EVEN GETTING UPSET ABOUT IT.

I get so fucking angry about it. I haven't changed, I'm not different in the slightest but people just now can't see any point to me. Am I not fun anymore? Was I ever fun?

I can't be bothered with this shit anymore. I hate being on the fringe of everything.

I feel drunk already, maybe my drink got spiked, but more like the other like that I'm just a lightweight

Ideas for photography... Ideas for photography...

I can come up with strange concepts but they're hard to put into practical use in such a short amount of time.

For example, I thought of doing something with animals and like, primitive instinct in humans. I would take photos of animals and then almost recreate it with people. Maybe lead on from instincts to raw emotion. I like quite conceptual ideas and more psychological aspects of photography rather than just "ooh that looks pretty- click". The problem with this idea though is it's not very realistically available, I don't have time to go to a zoo and take photos of animals AND take the actual photos of people, I don't even have a model to work with at the moment.

So I'm trying to come up with other ideas.

I found this photo randomly which I really like. It's called Pnigophobia which is a fear of choking. Made me think maybe I could do some photos based on phobias? Not sure, I should look into it more really...

I like yyellowbird on Flickr. Her work has some of the nicest colours and she models in them herself (using either a timer on her camera or a sort of remote to take the picture). The only problem with that I wouldn't really have a concept for it. She just takes nice photos in abandoned houses generally. There aren't that many abandoned houses where I live, the only place like that being an abandoned sport pavilion sort of thing that now looks like a burnt and thoroughly graffited shed. I've already used that in two of my photo shoots, one of them when it was snowing. It has a deteriorating armchair outside of it too.

I really need to finish this post and start on my coursework. Might blog when I'm finished but I doubt I'll have time.

god damn hate that I am what I am

I don't need this. Fucking Spanish shit. Biology will be fine, but I am slightly worried about Spanish. I normally ask my mum for help but I haven't been speaking to her much recently.

I haven't really been speaking to anyone in my family much.

I come home, go on the computer... go to bed. I'm scared that I'm using babysitting my sister as an excuse to be lazy and waste away in front of a glowing screen that is slowly turning my mind to mush.

I kind of want to hang out with new people, or even old ones I haven't seen in a while but no one seems interested in me. And I feel ugly cause of all this "rate me out of 100" shit. I don't get awful ratings (they're all in the 70s), just ones that tend to be at the lower end of the spectrum of my acquaintances. It's disappointing. And has made me lose quite a bit of confidence. I knew I shouldn't have got involved but oh well.

I don't feel close to anyone at the moment really. I get picked up and dropped, thrown about and left neglected often and at a rapid pace. I keep ignoring it because lots of people seem to be having the same problem, some worse than others.

Wanting to hang out with new people gets me muddled. I think I almost want to do it to prove to myself I don't have to be with him when we get the chance. I want people to know I don't need him. But then I just know that actually I do want to see him and I'd have a better time with him anyway than others who would trip over themselves to get away from me if someone better came along. I don't know whether I'm kidding myself about things but just, I used to be so much more than this. People used to have more respect for me, people used to like seeing me and would invite me to shit without even thinking. They used to care and now I'm stuck in a fucking skip screaming at strangers to love me.

Maybe I was only ever popular because there was no one else around. Probably.

I'm lonely, really fucking lonely and no one can see it just cause I have him.

Whatever. Ignore me. I'd better get back to this Spanish work.

well I, I went to buy myself a handgun, why'd you think man, to shoot down everyone

I think I like that drawing but then everytime I see it I pick out another thing that's wrong with it. That's just how artists are though right? Never completely satisfied with their own work...

I've been writing random shit. Just kind of felt like it for no apparent reason, I would have written more but I got distracted and had english homework...

I remember my childhood in third person

Lived out my memories through your diction

Abused teachers alike, snapping rulers for the sound

Counting milk teeth and copper coins

Syllables may sting my lips as they escape through my teeth

But in my old habitat they were coaxed out of hiding

Clouds were hidden behind faded pages

Whilst yelling by the soon-to-be sirens gave me tinnitus

Everytime I picked my soles further off the floor

Than my sloping gait would allow

I'd fall to the sound of hollow laughter

It was all skin deep, but my skin is made of seven layers

A lot more than you would stop to think

Well I never remember more of you than your pale bare feet

Can only catch glimpses of your fiery hair

Sit in trees and pretend to be five again

Stand in streets and watch shadows pass

... I haven't even proof read that yet, I probably should. Oh well. He would probably be able to form something slightly more coherent from that than I could so I'll just leave him to mess around with it.

I got all reminiscent you see. Primary school was a bit of a harsh time for me. And then when things seemed to get better at school, my family ended up ripping its seams... It was just a while since there was a time where I felt properly content. But oh well, you learn to live with shit.

And I'm happy now, I am.

I'm even almost sadistically happy when things go wrong. I feel bad for it but everyone needs a bit of chaos don't they? When things become too routine you forget what it means to be happy, you're just stuck in a rut of repetition.

I like extremes but I think at the moment I've managed to find a pretty good balance. My neuroses catch up with me sometimes causing ridiculous overreactions, crying at retarded shit, you know the sort. But it's okay, it's okay, I'm normally (mostly) sane.

It's better when you appreciate the small things.

Like bus rides and getting away with sleeping in class and sunshine and hugs from friends and a smile from him or a nicely timed remark from someone you thought you'd lost a long time ago.

I like looking at things differently. I guess that's why I like photography.

we're lost in the only thing, truly worth getting lost in

Damn I love festivals. Isle of Wight turned out to be really good; the tickets my dad got through his contact turned out to be VIP ones as well.

My dad doesn't understand why I love festivals so much. Trying to explain it on the way back on the ferry I started blathering on, "Don't you just feel like, in the crowd, like, you're part of something, that there's all those people here for nothing but the music and to have fun and.. I don't know..."

My dad's reply was "I only get the feeling of being part of something in like, a football crowd". No dad, no.

In a way it is a bit like a football crowd I suppose, throwing chants back to the band, singing along. People were even waving England flags around cause of the World Cup.

But at the same time its very different. Football crowds are out to threaten the other team's supporters, people at festivals just want a good time, although you do get some gigs where people just want to be destructive, break shit, strip themselves down to nothing but bare adrenaline, hurricanes in their own right. My god that is fun.

I fucking love running around on a high from beats that pulse through you, hook onto your ribcage, make your chest pound. Swaying drunkenly, drenched in noise.

I ran into a very tipsy Devendra Banhart, dancing to the Strokes with a posse of girls who were beautiful yet completely off their faces and just thought to myself- this is it.

This is what it's all about. Life and all that shit.

It's about going out, getting completely fuckfaced, dancing and singing and laughing all the way into the shadow of the night.

That's what I want.

That's all I want.

My hat from the festival, on him.

looking out at the ice cold water all around me, I can't feel any traces of that other place

Changed my mind about Maths again. I probably won't get an A after all. Apparently the non calculator test was "so easy" that to get an A* will be like 90% and an A will probably be mid 80s. Fuck my life.

Also, as it was easy the calculator paper will either also be easy (pushing the grade boundaries up and out of my grasp) or really hard, to compensate. And I got a list of things that are likely to be in the exam as they weren't in the other one and it's all the stuff I'm shit at. Argh.

I going to be the only one who gets a B. I should never have taken fast track.

Exams are proper pissing me off now. Okay so after tomorrow I don't particularly need to worry about things, GCSE's for this year will be over, but then I have:

a) psychology taster on monday

b) spanish controlled assessment (coursework for GCSE) on friday

c) biology research task (coursework for GCSE) also on friday

d) planning for my TEN HOUR photography end of year that, since the course has recently been changed, will ALSO count as coursework

e) all of my end of years

f) and possibly more science data/research tasks (coursework for GCSE)

It just seems like every time I start to think exams are over they just fling more assessed work at us. I need a fucking break.

Okay okay so there must be something to look forward to right?

Hmm the Saatchi Gallery exhibition I'm going to go to with him in a couple weeks should be good. Got some nice stuff in it like this for example:

Oh and then there's another party coming up in July that should be alright. Quite a few friends are planning on coming to that and what more can you ask for really than a load of your friends, no parents, alcohol and the night? Yeah I should look forward to that.

WHOA, okay, mid-blog my mum just rang me to completely fuck over my weekend plans but oh well oh well, I get to go to the Isle of Wight Festival this Saturday. They have a couple people who should be alright to see; Vampire Weekend, The Strokes, Biffy Clyro, Bombay Bicycle Club and Devendra Banhart should all be pretty good.

It's a shame I have to go with my family though. If my sister even ATTEMPTS to get me to see N-Dubz with her she must be more of a complete retard than I first thought.

Hmm, there isn't anyone particularly good on. What can you expect though, it is the "family" type of festival (i.e. only have a shitload of popular musicians, not ones that are actually good or anything). It's not a completely awful set list though...

I should be more grateful, I just wish it was less short notice, I kind of had plans...

Oh well.

there's plenty of space to hang my stuff but there's no where to hang myself in this room

So my mindset jumped back a couple paces. Back to self criticism. Hooray.

Everyone seems to think at some point or other that every single syllable escaping my lips means fuck all. I'm just blathering shit again. Shut up Becky, you're wrong. You're wrong, your points aren't valid, your statements are incomplete. Shut up. SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Sometimes I contemplate taking a vow of silence so no one will have to listen to my shit ever again.

If my words don't mean anything to you then why the fuck am I still spouting a cacophony of verbs and nouns and adjectives that clutter up your neat little sentences and make me trip over my tongue and smash my face into your fucking stolid, immovable wall of reason and sense and patronising fucking remarks that I come face to face with every single time I try and say something that in the long run doesn't even matter. Why do I keep doing this to myself? I'm better off staying quiet.

And then self deprecation and doubt and loathing for myself swamps me and I get that buzzing by my temples that tells me I really need to just b r e a t h e and calm down but I can't. I scrunch my hands into fists until they look like the bones are going to burst through my skin and rant to myself like I have a fucking multiple personality disorder for like ten minutes.

Oh shut up Becky.

You're a fucking imbecile you know that.

Shut up.

no one wants to hear the boy sing love sick songs, just keep dancing, keep smiling even if it feels wrong

Someone has been copying passages out of my blog and manipulating it into their own words. I am not happy. Sorry but this blog is personal, you can't just twist someone else's words into your own and expect no one to notice. You can't hide behind what I say. BE ORIGINAL FOR FUCKS SAKE. Write about your own shit, not mine.

Oh and I ever see you with a Diana F+ before I get one, I will kill you. That is my camera. Bitch.

Henceforth you are blocked. You can't read this. HA.

Maths went surprisingly alright. A lot better than I thought which is good. Now getting an A doesn't seem so implausible. A* still is, obviously, but yeah, if the calculator paper goes the same way as the non calculator one was then I should be alright. Thank God. I will breathe a heavy sigh of relief when this is all over and I get to piss around after finishing internals and my spanish writing coursework and my biology research task and (possible) chemistry one as well. Jeez, this shit never ends does it? Oh well, oh well.

Now for some pictures! Hehe. I forgot to say how the wedding went. Was all pretty standard, was quite bored by the end of it. Got sunburnt and taught myself how to yoyo. So yeah... Fun.

Pictures aplenty- lots of people crowded to take them:

I like focusing more on the people taking their own photos of the newly married couple rather than the bride and groom themselves. A lot of the time the guests are more interesting anyway.

Some little toddler was messing around splashing little girls with water from a nearby pond. Then the bugger got a cupful of pond water and tipped it down my front whilst I was looking at my camera. I don't like children.

The wedding was in Southampton. I love the sea but there weren't any beaches just lots and lots of boats. Boats are pretty cool too though I guess.

There was this lonely sofa set outside in the garden where the wedding reception was. I wanted to sit on it but some other family quickly set up camp there and, well, I'm actually a really antisocial person sometimes so I just left them to it.

So that was the wedding.

Here's some photos I took with him. He may have had dibs on the rotting banana but I still got some decent pictures.

-The sky is pretty.

-Reflections look good at night when light that is caught in them looks as if it's alight.

-I've been thinking about aeroplanes a lot for some reason.

-I don't like my knees.

shout at the world because the world doesn't love you, lower yourself because you know that you'll have to

I'm going to fail maths and scrounge off my parents for the rest of my life so it seems. I couldn't even become a cleaning lady because I'm shit at being domestic.

I want to start work. Like proper. I think I would like to work in a shop. She says clothes stores like New Look and Topshop won't let you work there unless you have experience so I need to find a charity shop... There's an Oxfam down the road from where I live I think.

The other day my dad asked me which I would prefer, working in a food shop, clothes shop or record shop. Record shop, of course. Beggars can't be choosers though.

Would love to be decked out in decadence but it's too hard to not care. I hate being a stresshead.

I could do so many things in life, I could be anything I want! Not anymore. The weight of exams has put a dampener on things and reality has set in.

Anyway.

Off to read up on new bands and that autobiography on Alex James that he gave me; it's turning out to be a pretty good read. Oh and I'm going to try and get to sleep of course, big day tomorrow I guess.

ended up filling shoe boxes with vomit, collected scabs in lockets, hung them round our necks like nooses

I'm actually really scared now. Really, really, really fucking scared.

Fuck Maths. Just the idea of GCSEs in general stresses me out enough but Maths is the one thing that I can't actually handle, like at all. WHY THE FUCK AM I TAKING IT A YEAR EARLY? Any other exam I'd be able to manage.

It just keeps going round my head: you're going to fail, you're going to fail, you're so shit at this Becky, you're going to be the only one failing out of fast track and everyone will pity you and think you're such a dick for ever thinking you could do this, you can't do this.

I can't do it.

I've even been wondering if I just didn't show up to the test tomorrow then maybe they'd let me do it with everyone doing it in Year 11. They won't. I'd just get into shit.

I can't even revise right. Pretty much every question that comes up in the test papers I have to look up and revise how to do them. I can't do that in the actual exam. I'm so fucked.

I'm beyond fucked.

I feel sick thinking about it and have a headache and feel like crying all the time.

Fucking hell.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

it was all that they could do not to consume you, and was all that I could muster just to kiss you

I changed my profile picture from this:

To this:

I guess I like both of them. The newer one has some pretty good colours in it. He likes them both too.

So I didn't really do much today, wandered around Kingston with my dad for like three hours looking for a dress.

I have to go to a wedding tomorrow. I've only ever been to two weddings before which were ridiculously different to each other.

One was cheap and full of ruddy faced blokey types with huge belly laughs erupting from the dance floor as they had a bit too much to drink.

The other was at the same church where Four Weddings And A Funeral was filmed at. I had too many WKDs in too short a space of time and staggered around in high heels feeling ill whilst parents of the middle aged bride and groom tutted disapprovingly at me.

I'm not sure how this one will turn out.

I don't really know why they're getting married. I mean, they've been together for ages and even have a son together. What is the need to get married? All it is is a piece of paper. Marriage means nothing to me.

I'm bored of being in limbo of exams with glimpses of summer catching in my peripheral vision. I have to lick my chapped lips and bite the inside of my cheek to remind myself where I am, where my focus should be.

All I want to do is languish away in the sanctuary of musicians' and artists' presences. Take photos that you can taste in your mouth, something to swim in. Listen to obscure, demented and hauntingly beautiful maniacs. Become more poetic, just to inspire him.

I don't want to be anything practical.

If the corporate world ever ensnares me then I've lost everything.

And yet...

So if the point of life is to be happy why do I strive to fill the glass halfway, not even bothering with the brim.

Lacklustre much, lacking ambition, I have no gumption.

My demise is almost inevitable. Far too easy imagining me working nine to five, far too easy seeing me struggle with taxes and a husband and children and all the things I never wanted for myself.

If everything turns to shit, then at least let me have the satisfaction of not becoming my mother. If I ever turned into her... Just... I can't. I can't be her. Hard to bear the thought.

I am the most average girl ever.

Middle class, middle fucking everything.

I want to be different but so does everyone else and even wanting to be someone special is just another common desire.

I don't want fame, I don't want money.

I want to live.