2010.

time has flown at a speed i cannot control. these 365 days are almost over.

best friend. high heels. falling over. being picked up. sober heart to hearts. drunken heart to hearts. pepperoni pizza. birthdays. time away. lanzarote. ash clouds. going slightly insane. rushing around. writing. reading. realising the truth about certain people. new friends. faces. bitching in the toilets. serious chats in the takeaway. a dark fairy. tinie tempah. kisses. hugs. those 'i shouldn't have done that' moments. severing ties. finding old friends again. train journeys. ripped tights. lecturers and lectures. blue note. cocktails. babylon. two b's and two c's. isolation. him, and him and him and him and him. live music. glowsticks. uv paint. blackberry 3g. cheeseburgers at 3am. little sister. two jobs in three months. confidence. lyrics. inspiration. tequila sunrise. silly photos. facebook messages. texts. cinema trips. coursework and racking my brains. hand in day. promises that didn't amount. grand plans. twilight parodies. cold nights. foggy mornings. snow. sheffield. leeds. manchester. scarborough. derby. ticket stubs and wristbands. fresh early morning air. books and libraries. shot glasses. communal lipgloss and fancy underwear. city lights. holding hands. drunken sing a longs at six in the morning. the night i spilled those secrets. bonds that won't ever be broken. that feeling of complete contentment.

looking back, i've loved every second.

Light the fire and walk away.

It's strange how one tiny thing can really change your perspective on people, and the bigger picture those people make.

When I was off university because of the snow, our short fictions lecturer declared presentations galore. So people drifted into the usual sort of groups, only two guys were left alone. Those two also happen to be fabulous friends. Two of us were absent that day, and so assigned to their group. I only found out about all of this a week later, and we arranged a meeting to figure out what we were actually going to present.

Our group consisted of myself, Ben - who I've believed to be one of the funniest people in our class, Alex who I always figured was Ben's sidekick and Lewis who I've worked with a couple of times. It was like the most unlikely group in the entire world, but it worked. We spent a couple of hours trying to decide on what to do for the subject of character, and after so much deliberation we came up with a total piss take of Twilight with relevant character profiles woven in for revision. So I re-wrote the four books, and we practised a few times, and promised to have our lines learned for this past Monday. So, Monday came. I was just on the train arriving in Derby and Alex phoned. Ben, our Jacob Black, had broken his ankle at American football training. Honestly, I thought it was all a joke to get us panicked up. But on arrival at uni, Alex wasn't lying at all. So the three of us spent our practice time trying to figure out what the hell we were going to do. We couldn't draft in another Jacob, knowing no one would quite do it the justice Ben did it. We couldn't write Jacob out of it, I mean, he's a hugeeee part of the whole thing. So we had no other option. Lewis was adamant about going to their house and begging Ben to come in and do it, so off we went, Alex drove us all the way to their house, only to find, Ben had gone home.

By this point, the three of us were in total despair. Our presentation that we'd been so confident and excited about was ruined. We headed back to uni, Radio 1 rubbing more salt in the wound by playing us one of Oasis' more depressing songs. We sat in total silence. That was before heading straight for the SU and drinking on empty stomachs. Wonderfully giddy, we headed up to short fictions. Moy forced us to work with what we had, after we told her we didn't want anyone else to be Jacob. We played on the sob story and tried, only to recieve rather uncalled for comments from the rest of the class. Cheers, guys.

But, my point is, I think my cut throat attitude to university is slowly dissolving. Back in September I was going to head in there all guns blazing, taking no shit off anyone, and getting my head down. But now, after being thrown in the deep end, I've found out the class dynamics, I know who's really friends with who and what goes on underneath those friendly exteriors everyone attempts to keep up. I'm talking to more people. Granted, I don't consider any of them my bff's or anything like that, it's just nice. It's nice to have a foot in the door that I can remove any time I wish. I can talk to people and have a laugh with them. I can get subtle revenge on those who've ripped my work to shreds and dented my confidence.

Shocker, Laura might actually be getting attached to her classmates.

I can't write.

Just seen a guy in my classes status on Facebook. He can't either. That makes me feel a tiny bit better.

This week has been such a waste. I sit in my bedroom, all these ideas whirling around in my head. Give me a pen and paper or a keyboard and a blank document and it comes out like trash. Maybe I'm trying to hard. Thinking too much. Being far too self concious. The words usually flow out of me. Now I'm confused by tenses, first person or third person, trying to make things sound profound, terrified of tripping on cliches. I'm trying too hard to impress people that don't need impressing. I know deep down who's important and who isn't, yet I'm stuck with those non-important ones, dictating what I ought to do with my words. That's just it. They're my words, my ideas, my characters. I care too much.

I'm sorry that I don't call London St Pancras, 'St Pancras'. That I write in a Sheffield accent. That you don't know where my story's set. That you don't understand what's happening. For using the odd cliche. For wording things in ways you couldn't ever understand. For having crazy ideas. For not changing character names. I'm not splitting Meredith and Jeremy up. I'm sorry my murderers aren't sinister enough. I'm sorry I don't reckon much to Raymond Carver. That the situations are complex. That the characters have more about them. That I write about things I haven't experienced first hand. That I'm jumping out of my comfort zone. That I don't really care all that much for poetry. That I write about more than my mundane nineteen year old life. I'm so fucking sorry that you're so small minded, you don't want to even try and understand.

yesterday is gone, we can't go back again.

I miss it all.

I miss trips to Asda at four in the morning. Always having someone to come home to. Having a second home. Feeling part of something, wanted, loved and needed. The 'when are you home?' texts. Living off pizza and chips. Going out on a Monday night, because it's 'out out' on a Wednesday. Light hearted arguments about where we'd go. Cinema trips. Spending too much money. Persuading those two that we ought to 'get on it'. Playing pool at The Mile. Fresh, early morning air. Putting up posters. Watching films in the hall way. The sofa off the street. Play fights. Drunken chats in the kitchen. Late night heart to hearts. Spilling WKD all over the floor. The cleaners moving everything. The over powering smell of Lynx. The smokers area in the courtyard. Little 'see you Monday' notes before going home for the weekend. Meeting new people. Drunken rants and cleaning up. Charcoal Grill after every night out. Mistakes. Kissing guy friends and it not being awkward. Kissing guy friends and it being extremely awkward. Lying in bed waiting for the heater to warm up. Power showers. Football in the hall at 3am. Hating on the flat across. Actually wanting to be friends with the flat across. Making up stories. Chats in my bedroom. Procrastinating. Ignoring homework. Phone calls and last minute everything. Trips across to Sainsburys just before midnight. The money machine. Screaming the lyrics. Holding hands. Chatting to bouncers and the guys in the takeaway. Medicine corner. Turning up to lectures incredibly exhausted, last night's stamp still on my hand. Pretending I've done homework and convinently forgetting it, when really I was drunk the night before. That feeling of complete suffocation. Depending on them. Confessions and declarations of 'I fucking love you'. Stealing road signs. 'How was the gig last night?' Playing music unbearably loud. Rock Band and Guitar Hero. 'Xbox Bummers'. Breakdowns. Double disaronno and coke. Jaegerbomb, jaegerbomb. Using jaegermister as cough medicine. Testing to see who has the comfiest bed. Sitting at the back of the lecture theatre reading Kerrang! instead of making notes. Using jaeger shots as cough medicine. Freshers flu. Eating too much. The smell. The Christmas tree fiasco. Trying to hide the stolen road sign in the roof. Stealing the sign in the first place. Taxi to Asda. Bowling. Gala Bingo. Inside jokes that went on forever. The first night to the very last. I miss it all.

Damn, those tarrot cards were right.

I'm a mess in a dress,

I'm so 'blah' at the moment.

Depressed best friend. Other friends who don't know what they want. Course friends who say one thing and do another. People in general. Trains being delayed. Cold weather. So much fog, you can barely see. Dull lectures. Never feeling quite good enough. Writer's block. Nothing sounding how I wanted it to. Feeling inadequate. Left in the lurch. Vile little sister. Vile little sister's boyfriend. Suffocating. Same old routine.

One of my more distant friends from school got the job she's always wanted. She got an interview for RyanAir and they gave her the job. In January, she's going to travel all around Europe. Hearing about things like that give me real hope. I only read Kerrang for the gig reviews. That's what I want to do. I don't think I'll ever get a book published.

Writing doesn't consume me, it isn't my entire life. I don't live and breathe it. I rarely do my homework. I write whatever's in my head at that time, type it up, tweak it slightly and hand it round my focus group. Sometimes, it's liked by all four of them, sometimes, it's ripped to pieces. I don't take it too seriously. It's the only thing I've ever consistently done and consistently been slightly good at. I over hear people in class talking about entering competitions and sending pieces off to be published. Then, I hear the majority talking about the next anime convention, and I don't feel like I'm fucking up entirely. I'm part of a majority that hasn't let a university course swallow them up. I have to think about other things.

Although it's terrifying to think that come graduation in 2012, all of this will have been for nothing.

We're going to Florida. Orlando again. We hope. Mum says it'll be our last holiday. Lanzarote was supposed to be, but really, it was a nightmare I'd like to never re-live. My sister is throwing a spanner in the perfect works, as usual. She daren't leave her boyfriend's side for two whole weeks. It's irritating. In 2007, those two weeks we spent in Orlando were probably the best fourteen days of my tiny existance. To be handed the chance to go back and be as happy as I was then, is fabulous. I wish she'd stop being such a selfish idiot. Mum won't go without her, so if she doesn't go, none of us do.

I need to get drunk. On Thursday night, I'm running home from my three hour lecture on Greek mythology and throwing on whatever outfit I see first and heading to the Empire Bar with my friends. I've not been really drunk for a long, long time, so I plan to drink myself into oblivion.

I need this. I need to forget. I need to feel numb for a while.

It's selfish, but I don't care anymore.

It seems I've been buried alive.

I hate that post-fabulous-gig-depression. I loathe it with a burning passion. So, we saw Avenged Sevenfold on Wednesday. And I've got to say (for the millionth time) one of, if not the, best band I've ever seen live. I loved every second. Even when the dickwad behind me kept leaning on me and sticking his dick in my arse. Okay, so maybe I didn't love that bit, since he was drooling and looked like he'd been taking something, but once the cute emo guy in the purple hoodie pushed him away from us, I loved it again. It also got me thinking a little.

So, M Shadows had a tribute to Jimmy. He explained to those that didn't know (I highly doubt there was anyone there that didn't know) that Jimmy had died and that he was in the room right that second and that they were going to continue his legacy by carrying on making music. He thanked everyone for making it all possible and Mike Portnoy and then they played So Far Away. At this point I'm in a state of awe and trying to stay upright. It's only been in the few days after that I've had chance to think about it.

If you know anything about me, you'll know live music is my form of personal therapy. A disgusting amount of my money goes into buying tickets, alcohol whilst I'm there, tshirts and then the cd's. I stick all my ticket stubs to my wall to remind me of the amazing nights I've had. Of course, they've not all been amazing, some were disappointing, but the majority were fantastic. Wednesday night was one of those that stayed with me on Thursday. I went into an agonising lecture with a dreamy look on my face and everything Simon was saying about Greek mythology went in one ear and right out the other. Then Friday, I got the depression.

The words from the tribute have been spinning around in my head. Now, maybe this is me being a drama queen, but they really hit home. My best friend hasn't been that for a while now. I've lost her. Not in the same way they lost Jimmy, but she's gone.

Myself and Liz had a huge chat last Saturday night. We'd had too many cocktails, but we always have a big serious chat in the takeaway after a night out. So, there we were, dressed like a zombie and a fairy, sitting in Chubby's discussing Rachel over a cheeseburger and chips. We've come to the conclusion that my best friend isn't the same person anymore. She's drawn into herself, put up walls ten feet high that none of us can scale. She won't tell us what's wrong, so we can't help her. Even if we try to coax it out of her, we don't get the answer we're looking for. It's painful to think about, sometimes. I make it clear to her that we're here for her, no matter what. We'll try to understand. She just doesn't want it. Beau is in her class at university and has told me she's the same there. Last Saturday, whilst we were partying it up in Embrace, Rachel stayed at home and had a 'party' with her parents and her sister. It speaks volumes to me that she'd rather stay at home than come out with the friends she doesn't see that often as it is.

It was the biggest kick in the teeth when Beau told me she doesn't consider any of us her best friends. I was annoyed at first. So, the past eight years I felt like maybe I wasted my time. I stuck with her through so much rubbish, and she did the same for me. I don't know what's wrong. Liz thinks maybe she's depressed. I can't understand what she has to be depressed about. But maybe that's all it is, I don't understand and she doesn't think I'll understand, ever.

I've lost her, and it fucking hurts.

i drank a pint of coca cola,

i'm not sleeping anytime soon.

i'm not really sure what i should be saying. i'm a whole bunch of things right now. excited. for next wednesday i'm seeing avenged sevenfold and stone sour. just the fact i'm getting to hear corey taylor sing live is making me all dreamy and excitable. nervous. i'm handing in my minor assignment for scriptwriting on monday. i'm not sure any of it is any good. i hate not feeling some kind of confidence about my writing. i have no faith in this minor whatsoever. the major might be better, it's worth more, so hopefully i'll get at least the d minus i need to pass. lonely. i tried an experiment the other week. i was waiting to see which one of my friends would text me first, but i caved and texted them all about a halloween bar crawl. i'm so freaking weak and dependent on them, it's disgusting.

i have a new job. it's at wynsors world of shoes. i get to stand in the stock room for three hours on wednesday evenings, putting security tags on shoes and threading them together. it's less hours and less money than the club was, but it's so much better. everyone was so, so nice to me. there's no internal bitching, everyone just seems to genuinely get along and like each other. it's nice. i'm still applying for a second job at weekends, just to earn a little more money.

my best friend doesn't feel like my best friend anymore. we're so disconnected. a few months back we were close. now, we're not. i feel closer to beau and liz than rachel. it upsets me. the more we pull, the more she pushes us away. it's like there's a wall dividing us, and i hate it. things never used to be this way. she doesn't want to come out with us anymore. wherever we go, whatever we do, she declines. beau spends every day with her at uni, and apparently she's exactly the same there. it's horrible. she told beau she doesn't have a best friend. well, thanks a lot. i've just been there through everything over the past eight years, but clearly that doesn't matter. i'm not sure what to do about her anymore. i can't handle this hot and cold attitude. all of us have fallen apart, despite mine and beau's attempts at holding us together. it's cemented my decision. i'm heading back to derby in january. i can't handle this much longer.

i'm over him. good and proper. i don't wish to type his name. he's still my friend. i'm still holding him close, because he knows things about me that not even my mum does. but it's done. part of me is glad it never got further than a one sided kiss, and a few almost moments after that. i didn't want to become one of his disposable girls. sticking with one for a few months, before crumbling and moving onto the next.

i can listen to florence again without thinking of him.

i have a lot to be happy about. there are people in the world with far bigger problems than mine. people who don't have roofs over their heads or enough food to have three meals a day. but of course, the selfish part of me feels like the tiny problems are the end of the world. my scriptwriting lecturers are douche bags and my best friend isn't that anymore, someone catch my world before it shatters into a thousand pieces.

dying is all we're doing here.

i'm okay. i think.

i have far too much going on in my head. sometimes i want to extract them and keep them in a pensive. harry potter style. i know a pensive is for re-living memories, but surely it could store my thoughts too? maybe i should ask jk rowling. my thoughts are a messed up jigsaw. one of those million piece ones. one with lots of sky, pieces of the same colour and shape. a lot of my thoughts are like that. about the same thing, but slightly different.

i'm tired of being lied to. boys lying to me. i ought to be precise with this. i'm sick of hearing sober slurs. 'i really fucking like you, babe.' no you don't. 'i'll text you.' no you won't. i waited days to text this boy. i actually really liked him. probably the second drunken meeting of a guy i've actually liked. i tend to attract the intoxicated and the hideous. not this time. he was attractive and sweet. until i insisted i needed to go home rather than back to his friends house. so i debated on whether i should text him or not. then i did. and a week later, i got nothing back. i've always been so cautious with guys. i'm the heartbreaker, god forbid, i'm ever the heartbroken. i tell these guys i have a boyfriend who lives in some far off place (usually lowestoft, thinking of one of my old flatmates) but i'll kiss them and dance with them and let them buy me drinks and take their numbers and promise to text them. i guess now i know how it feels to be one of those boys i do that to.

i want to quit my job. working men's club. bleugh. i'm filled with dread at the thought of friday rolling around. i'd rather have the middle of the week than the weekend. i've been there almost two months. but i can't handle it. the hours are pretty much my bedtime. i'm dead on my feet most of the time. i'm paranoid whilst i'm there, constantly looking over my shoulder and on edge. the boss is a total bitch. i can't do anything right in her eyes. i was only hired because my grandad dedicated most of his life to that place. he was on the well respected commitee. if i wasn't given the job, she'd have probably gotten shit from the remaining members. i'm sick of it. the pervy drunken men talking about me, eyes glued to my chest. i don't put my boobs out there, i never wear anything low cut or revealing, yet i am still made to feel uncomfortable while i'm collecting. this past weekend, i've realised i don't like any of the bar staff. i'm complained at, bitched at, and made to feel like absolute shit. i broke down on sunday about it. i'm already searching for something better. i don't want to just up and leave, i need a valid reason, and another job would be as good as anything.

university's alright. i'm low on inspiration, but i'll probably get a creative burst at some point. always do. i'm just trying not to stumble in late after sitting in traffic on the bus or having to endure the delayed train. i'm talking to new people. things might be different, but i'm scared to speak too soon and jinx it. i'm trying my damnest to not cut out my only ticket back to derby next year, but she's making it so difficult. things are okay. my friends are being my usual life support, listening to my crap and letting me drunkenly slur on their shoulders on saturday nights. i love them.

maybe it's because i'm ill. nine days now. i've got another eight days of penicillin tablets and barely being able to eat. maybe once this is over, my head will be less fuzzy.

tell me i'm a wreck

i went to university today. just for enrolment, nothing special. it seems our class dynamics are still the same as they were last year. certain people don't show up, the big cluster of calder's fanclub and me. although said fanclub leader did make a very valid point about our 'optional' modules not actually being optional. the lecturers had us enrol online and choose what we wanted to study from a selection of eight, these have since been cut down to five COMPULSORY modules. hacked me off no end, i was dying to do writer's research.

but, my point is, on the way there, i was sitting on the train listening to my ipod and as soon as we hit chesterfield my stomach got all knotty and twisty. not through fear. through anticipation. i was so hoping this year would be different. it was going to top last year in ways i'd have never thought possible months ago. but, let's be honest, it isn't. all the false promises were exactly that. all the so called friends are flake outs. i hate to sound so negative, but it's true. maybe i expected too much from this year. sitting on that train, i was still in the mindset that i was going to be studying modules i wanted to study, not through force. i'd never even thought of anyone in the class until i walked into n703 and noted that, depsite the third years clogging up one side of the room, everything was exactly the same. people had lost weight and changed their hair, but they were still the same people.

i'm facing up to the fact that i'm still an outsider looking in.

this week has been quite a busy one. i've not had much chance to really sit down and think. that was until i receieved a text from my old flatmate, kirsty. she wants to see me soon. but the distance between sheffield and derby is an obstacle. she's invited me out for her friend's birthday on monday. i can't really go unless i have somewhere to stay. last year, i had offers for places to stay handed to me on a silver platter. but now it's coming to it, nobody wants it. so i'm bound to miss out. but on the other hand if i was living there, i'd be missing out on freshers events here and abby's leaving party tomorrow night. i can't have the best of both worlds. i suppose for a second last year i thought i could with all the promising and the blah blah blah's, but now i'm having to choose.

i'm more attached to derby than i initially thought. i'm not interested in freshers, but sailing through the centre today on the bus, all the streets and places reminded me of good times i had last year. right now, with kirsty bugging me to have a night out with them and the fact i'm missing someone i shouldn't really be missing, i'm starting to think sheffield isn't the right choice. if i was in derby, i'd probably be saying the opposite. i need my friends here more than anything else in the world, but with elina gone and abby going soon, i'm scared their not being around will break us apart. everyone's going off in different directions, and although we're still close, i'm clinging onto the summer and all the good times we've had.

i want what i can't have. i always have done. i'm such a spoilt brat in that sense. i know that wherever i am, i'll always be pining for somewhere else.

i'm not sure whether this sudden doubt is because of freshers. it could be because everyone's fresh from the summer and have been thrown back together again and are all catching up and going out almost every night. it is potentially that. when things die down in a couple of weeks, maybe i'll be okay and comfortable. or maybe it'll force me to realise what i've probably known all along. i guess only time will tell.

Gonna put on that mask of make up & pretend everything's okay.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I want to sleep for days. I want to sleep until I feel better and the world around me is right again. I haven't felt like this for so long now, I'd forgotten I'd ever felt like it. That was until last week. I haven't slept properly for two days. I sleep for a couple of hours and wake up, toss and turn then burst into tears.

I don't know who I can talk to about things. Right now, nobody seems an option. So the internet, a blank screen sounds pretty perfect.

Because, everything is out of my control now. My best friend is depressed. Another one of my close friends is too. I've gotten to a point when I don't know what to say or do with either of them anymore. Going out doesn't help, it just makes it worse. They're both competitive girls and see others successes as their failures. They don't feel good enough with themselves, and nothing that anyone can do or say will change it. It's spiralled out of my control. A cheery text and a few cocktails used to pull their moods up, but now, it only makes them worse. It's horrid to see two people I love dearly act and think in the way they are at the moment. On top of that, yesterday my grandma, the only grandparent that's still standing, got her results from the memory clinic. She has Alzheimer's. The worst part about it is she didn't expect to have that thrown at her. She hasn't been herself since my grandad died two years ago, but when you hear that word, you assume the worst. After my mum told me I've been plagued by the nightmare of one day having to face up to the fact she doesn't know who any of us are anymore. My mum keeps reassuring me that she won't just deteriorate over night, but even so, a gradual process is terrifying. I've only ever heard of the horror stories associated with Alzheimer's, so of course I'm expecting the worst and focussing on what's going to happen in the future.

On top of all of this, I had a job interview yesterday and have to start tonight. Which is probably the world's shittiest timing. I'm no where near in the right mental frame to take in new things and listen to instructions. I'm exhausted and emotionally drained. I've been walking around in a numb state today. I just feel sadness, and dread at the thought of spending three hours in the pub my grandad spent most of his life dedicated to. That's the only reason I got the job. Because my grandad's name is engraved absolutely everywhere. I'm not ready for it at all. I don't need it right now. And I know for a fact I'll blow this trial period and be back at square one. But, to be honest, square one seems like a good place to be right now.

I think this summer has really gotten to me. I've been off university since the 5th May. I don't properly go back until the 27th September. I'm doing freshers in Sheffield from the 19th. I need some normality. Five months off sounded like heaven whilst I was chained to my desk slaving over my coursework, but at the moment, it's a fucking nightmare.

So how's it gonna feel when I leave this town?

i love sheffield. honestly, i really do. but right this second, i want out. if only for a little while. i just want to go away for a bit. but then, if i did, i'd be dying to come back. i need this polluted city air in my lungs to survive. it's a lifeline. i keep questioning whether i've done the right thing. i'm suffocated here, but at the same time i'm free. i need it. it's home. it's been the last nineteen years. it's where everyone drinks hendersons relish like it'll stop being made. where you can only get the greatest cheeseburger in the world three days a week. where all the good tours miss out, and i moan and groan about it for days on end. where it'll cost me £4.30 if i want to go further than hillsborough on the bus. where everyone understands my accent, it's not a novelty. where breadcakes are exactly that and i'm not lost in dialect translation. i can complain about this place to the stars and back, but i know deep down, i'll always love it. it's always going to be home, no matter how far i run, or how much i pull away, it'll draw me back, somehow. it's where everyone is. all those people who've helped make me what i am today. every single one of them is confined within the limits of this city, until they all disappear. but, i know they'll be pulled back by that magnetic force. it's where i'll feel most comfortable and like myself. it's home.

every single song reminds me of you.

over and over. splashed all over mtv. i listen to bands you hate to help me forget. again and again. you tainted the songs i once adored. wrecked my favourite films. dented the things that have made me up to be who i am. i wanted to fall for you. hard. i wanted butterflies in my stomach. i wanted the novel romance. the type all those authors have written about. i want our story printed on smooth pages. i want the world to know. i wanted to feel something towards you. but i don't. i can't let myself. it hurt for a while. then it stopped. numb. just cold. frozen in time. those feelings are trapped in a block of ice. it stops them from aging. stops them becoming bitter and twisted. love is scary. it all starts out so happy and slowly disintegrates. i don't want that to happen. it terrifies me. i don't want to be bitter and hateful at forty. in twenty years i still want to love someone. to adore them. the thought of ever losing them to kill me and tear me apart inside.

those songs still remind me of you. again and again. the memories are disconnected. a part of something else. trapped in that block of ice. forever. those songs, those words woven together to create something beautiful are much more than you. and always will be.

Consider yourself one of my best friends

You know how there's always that friend you're not really friends with?

Yeah, I've got one of those. Honestly, I don't believe I've ever been without one since being twelve/thirteen years old, that was when the corruption of the Regina George alike secondary school girls began. We were all Cady's at one point, and some morphed into Regina's. I was a Gretchen. Desperate to be liked and loved, and couldn't understand why people would hate me. Ever so slightly conceited, I know, but I shed that skin after a year or so.

But back to the friend you're not really friends with. The friends I have at the moment are probably some of the best I've had in my short life. I don't know if it's because we've just grown up or because we genuinely like each other, but there's less bitching. Way less bitching. To be honest, the only one that gets bitched about is Beau, and that's not so often. That mainly comes around after we've been sitting in Yates for two hours waiting for her grand arrival, only to have her disappear somewhere between there and Babylon.

Basically, Beau is the friend we're not really friends with. She's quite flaky, and flits in and out of everything. She's very much a fair weather friend, coming and going as and when she pleases. It sounds awful, but she's the friend we're not really friends with because of this. That, and the negative effect she has over everyone. Beau would be a less severe Regina in our world.

But the rest of us are just, us. I was done being a Gretchen a long, long time ago.

word vomit.

time flies. it's passing by at the speed of light. grab every precious second of it and cling on for dear life. one year, two, three, four. changes. people slipping and sliding in and out of my life. i have one constant in this ever changing world. flaky friends who flit in and out. life is like a revolving door. it's never the same. even though it feels like it. different faces with different names. clothes, shoes, places, people, transport. i feel old, but i'm young. i drink like an alcoholic and never get a hangover. i don't listen but work out instructions for myself. i'm good with physical directions, but have no idea where i'm headed. the world makes me angry. i think i know best, but i probably don't. i like a bass line echoing around my rib cage, but i'm scared of going deaf. i want to leave, but sheffield has my heart. i want to love and be loved back. i'm sick of one way streets. i want more, but these invisible barriers are holding me back. say yes, not no. my head is a nice place to live, shame it's not up for sale. i think it's original, then read a book that's pretty much what i just wrote. i want to love myself, but i can't help the hatred. putting on a mask every day. make up. false confidence. talking like i'm so sure of myself. but i'm not. trying not to hate on first impressions, it's a waste of time. wanting to know people, but scared that i won't like them if i do. going to make it on my own, but far too dependant on them. dreaming of the day i can buy the macbook & designer handbag, but knowing it'll never happen. scared that in two/three years i'll still be non the wiser. don't shut me out of the loop, i want to bt in the centre of it. getting what i want, then changing my mind. it changes as much as the world revolves on it's axis. always.

19 ain't so different....

Last night was such a good laugh. 19th kicked my 18th scrawny, shitty behind.

24th July 2009, I was close with a girl who's done me more harm than good. Mentally. Constant put downs do that to a person's already shattered self esteem. Fast forward to 2010, where I've been pulled into a new friendship group. These are much more positive people and I want to be around them, I look forward to going out and love that it's not always down to me to arrange things. With her, it always was. I invited her this year, and she claimed to have 'family shit' going down. If I'm honest, I'm glad she didn't come. I didn't want to endure the shitty clubs she so enjoys and have to listen to her bitch about the girls that have been there for me for the past six or so months.

24th July 2010 started at Yates with no awkward silences and tension in the air. We sat around a table and laughed and joked and drank a lot. Alicia brought her boyfriend, who's ended up with a stamp of approval because he's lovely. Everyone was happy, especially when the pitchers of purple rain appeared, and all the daft pictures really show it. I caught up with a few people from school in Babylon and drank silly amounts of doubles and cocktails. Granted, we had the half hour drama at the end of the night when William lost his jacket and some guy tried it on with Liz. It's safe to say we found the jacket and had a few tears but it's nothing a kebab couldn't sort out.

I can honestly say, everyone asked me if I'd had a good birthday, and every time I answered with a 'yeah'. Not a half arsed lie, a genuine truth.

Nineteen sounded way older than eighteen. I thought I wouldn't be able to act as daft as I did. But I can. I'm still a teenager. Old enough to be taken seriously, and young enough to get away with acting like an idiot and doing stupid things. It sounds so deep for a birthday, but I think getting a year older is going to teach me something. I'm starting to shed the people I don't need in life and I think nineteen is going to be the year to do that, cut all those ties for good and move on.

Eighteen treated me pretty well, but I think nineteen's going to do one better.

Even if the sun sets, I will start a fire.

I'm happy but I'm unhappy at the moment.

I've been so sure of myself for so long. I know I'm doing the right thing by moving back home properly for the year ahead. If I went back to halls I'd be plagued by bad thoughts. It's risky business. This past year I was lucky to live with four really decent people. Of course after Christmas all those friendships we built up broke down, I drifted away from two of them, one was kicked out and I was pushed towards the fourth because of this. I found myself crying myself to sleep more often in that second semester and having to walk around with a weight on my shoulders. I know that commuting will be a pain in the arse. I've thought of it all. I've weighed up the pros and cons. I'm sorry, Derby, but Sheffield kicks your arse in pretty much every corner. It's my mum's doubts and worries. She passes it on to me and I've found myself accessing the university website and being so close to clicking on the link to apply for halls once again. I know if I found it difficult, I could go back. God knows where they'd put me - Lonsdale or Laverstoke, I guess, but I wouldn't really care.

University has it's good aspects and it's bad one's. In the very beginning, I caught 'freshers flu' and slept for the best part of two days. I missed one lecture. The lecture where everyone seemed to establish their friendships. When I returned for the next one, everyone seemed to be grouped up. There's a few other outsiders, but they seem to cope just fine sitting by themselves and rarely striking up conversation with anyone else. I found it difficult at first. I couldn't understand why no one seemed to want to speak to me. I used to be in the big groups at college. The one's always making a rackett and laughing in the middle of mock exams. It was a shock to the system to suddenly be on the outside looking in. But I dealt with it. I took books to class and read before the lecturers started up. The beauty of having no friends made it easier for me to present my work and not care what anyone else thought, but at the same time, it made it harder on me when class douche bag, Calder, ripped my presentation to pieces in a really rude and nasty way. I've grown numb to my single honours peers. Joint honours are a different story, they're less competitive, and much more approachable people.

Since leaving I've decided that I'm no longer there to be everyone's friend. I'm nice to people when they speak to me and I allow myself to comment on other people's work if it's positive. But why bother trying to include myself if the more I push, the more everyone else pulls away? If I'm honest, there's only a handful of people in the class that I think I could be friends with. Everyone else shows their true colours when ripping into other's work and leaving that persons confidence in tatters.

Honestly, I only want to focus on getting what I need to get. I need a first or a 2.1 to even go on to do a masters. And then I can come back to Sheffield, and leave all the angst behind and have fun with my friends here. They're the one's pulling me through at the moment.

Stranger I know so well.

Introductions, introductions.

I'm Laura. 18 (but just nine days off 19) year old from Sheffield, UK. I'm stumbling through my life, changing my mind at every corner I come across. My indecisiveness is a trait most people find highly irritating, myself included. I'm currently a student at the University of Derby studying creative writing. In my head, I'm going to have the same success as JK Rowling and Stephenie Meyer, but reality tells me I'm better off heading for a publishing house or doing my masters and becoming a university lecturer. I'm undecided, surprisingly.

At the moment, life's consisting of spending the remainder of my student loan, reading the books I bought months ago and never got round to reading, buying more books to add to that pile and cancelling out the fact that come September I'll no longer be able to read whatever I want when those ever exciting course books take over my life, getting far too involved with Big Brother and The Hills, drinking one too many cocktails in Babylon with my friends, and finding new music to play to death.

This is going to be my outlet for my ramblings. Whether it's bitching about how much I can't stand so and so, or just informing the world about my distant friends latest body piercing - seriously she's mental for having that pierced - it's all going to go on here. I'm not bothered if strangers read it, at some point I'd probably want people I know to read it and give them a wakeup call to how I truly feel, but until I grow the balls to do such a thing, it'll go on here, under lock and key of my supposedly 'strong' password. So let my bitching commence.