So. I feel like I should update again. Properly. Why, I don’t know.
I should be doing my history project now. Why is there always something you should be doing but opt out of doing because you want to do something else several degrees less productive? I don’t know. But blogging is my ‘instead’ thing, as usual.
I’m not going to socialise on Saturday. It will end in tears and drama and other horrible things. Probably a fight. And secrets being divulged. I’m safer if I stay away. And if everything comes out anyway, at least I won’t be at the epicentre of the drama. Better off at home watching X Factor and learning German or something.
DCU Open Day is on Saturday-day anyway. I’m looking forward to it. Journalism there would be lovely, but lots of points required, by the look of their website, which is a bit unsettling. Once upon a time, it was 420, but last time I checked, it was 475. I might have read it wrong or whatever. I hope I did. I really don’t feel like aiming for 500 points. I haven’t the energy.
All the pretty pictures that you see are not a reality. I wish they were. I wish it was possible for your life to one day look like all those soft-lit and colourful and lovely pictures, but I don’t think mine ever will. You’ll always have to get up early and study and have commitments and things. This probably suits other people, but it breaks my heart.
I wasn’t lying when I said that I wasn’t supposed to be alive. And I don’t even mean that in a depressing kind of way (even though it’s bound to come out that way). I just mean that me and life don’t really suit each other. Something always feels just a bit off. You know?
Regarding that other disaster in my life, I feel like you’re dead. Everything is against me (and you too, I suppose) and it seems like it would never ever work. But I still believe that it would. I don’t know if that’s stupidity or the power of love, but I do think we’ll overcome the odds in twenty years or something.
In the meantime, I really ought to concern myself with getting better and getting on in school and avoiding all the shit I seem to be landing myself in lately. If I was any good, I’d keep my mouth shut firmly. Not everyone needs to know the details in the fabric that is Emma Norris ragged and torn life.
Another reason for abstaining from alcohol. I’m too honest at the best of times. Worse when inebriated. No more of that. No more honesty? I don’t know. Just no more sharing my life story, maybe.
Or dancing with boys. No more dancing with boys who think that the only reason you’re dancing with them is because you want to get into them. And that’s just not true. Because, honestly, no one can live up to the boy I have in my head and I’m not interested in investigating anyone else ‘just in case’.
Come back into my life, please. I won’t ever be properly happy until you are here again properly.