poodlepants thinks I should update, but I haven’t because, um.. I guess the things I have to write about at the moment are sad and I'd like to ignore them for the moment.

The problem is that ignoring my problems fails in rendering them invisible. Instead, they grow without my supervision and come to bite me in the ass when I’m not looking.

So why So Sad?

I'm done my exams. It's a good thing, yes; a relief, definitely. But sad because finishing my exams is the beginning of this year's end. In three weeks, I'll be done my dissertation and off to Glastonbury. In 4 weeks, I'll be leaving this university and I may never again see most of my friends here. I know there's a lot to be happy about; but it’s always sad to say goodbye to something, especially something I love and a year which has been the best I have had so far in my life. I'm not ready for it to end and I'm certainly not ready to go back to friends who never go anywhere I want to, who have interests which sometimes oppose mine, whos opinions on life and the world in general are in stark contrast with mine, whose values sometimes clash with mine, too.. I can enjoy their company, but it's not the same level as here. I can't have a dicussion with them about feminism and nod fervently and excitedly as I've finally met someone who agrees. Instead, I have friends who ask why homeless people are so lazy and why they don't just get jobs. I will want to kill them and have no friends. Not exactly something I'm excited about.

I've also been thinking about gitfucker. I was talking to poodlepants about this yesterday, talking about how you know you’re in love with someone. Like how I don't find myself wishing I was with someone else, or wishing I had fallen in love with someone else; instead, I wish he wasn't such a fuckface. I am distancing myself from him, talking occasionally via txting or MSN because cutting him off completely is too difficult; I miss him too much. The problem is that I still cry 99% of the time we talk, sometimes for the stupidist reasons, little things he says that grate on me, enforce how he doesn't want me to be his girlfriend. I can't talk about him anymore without crying and I have too much work to do on my dissertation to cry.

Which brings us to reason number three. This dissertation is killing me and I haven't done enough work on it yet. I'm trying to make up for it now, but I don't know if it's going to work or be sufficient when the deadline comes. I almost want to cancel the trip to Glastonbury so I have more time to do my dissertation, and more time with my friends, wish connects with reason number 1.

I'm also in a state of general worry over booking my trip to Ireland and Scotland, over whether I'll have a good time on my own like I did in Europe, if I'll be able to leave my suitcases in residence over the summer, how I'll carry those two, huge, 70 lbs suitcases on a train to Manchester early, early, early in the morning... etc. My stomach's a knot, my head's fuzzy.

I've also concluded that one of the main reasons I haven't had a boyfriend is because my mind has, since I was 14, been on gitfucker. I've always seen him as perfection, him as my ideal mate. It's not like I dreamed of a life of marriage, but I always wanted him and only him; I rarely even considered wanting to date other people. I'm still like that. I still catch myself thinking, "maybe in a few years he'll sort himself out and want to be with me and it'll work out and we can let the relationship run its course and see where it goes." The salt water is brimming my eyes because I don't have an outlet for this frustration. It irks me that he didn't even want to try. I don't honestly believe our relationship would have lasted, but we never even fucking had one. An hour away on train, and we never fucking had a relationship. I could have seen him every week, I could have been an amazing girlfriend. He chose not to see me, he chose to keep me as... As someone left wondering, I guess. It never ran its course, so I'll always wonder what it would have been like. Sometimes I wonder if it would be less painful to scratch at my arms and my legs until my skin has been completely scratched away. Interesting how that lump in my throat keeps expanding.

I am still generally happy. I'm happy with life here, I'm happy with this country, with my friends.. I'm just generally happy. It's only when I sit down, when I think, when I wonder..

I was talking to poodlepants about this idea I had the other day, too. Ever think of your life as a story? As a narration, as something you're reading out of a book, or even a list of most important events? If so, does it feel like you who's been living it?

I'll write about the major points of mine tomorrow and how I look at it and think it's not me. It's got to be someone else, some other force, living my life. My life doesn't match my view of myself.

Maybe I should sleep. I'll try to, anyway.

xxx

*Ash - Death Trip 21

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