I don’t know what it is about reading but it makes me want to write. I have just started a new novel, then I left it at my boyfriend’s house so I started another new novel, neglecting the original new novel like a week old toy. I’ll go back to it once I’m done reading Gone Girl. I’ve watched the film twice and I think it’s enthralling, so whilst I was looking for a Birthday gift for Jade I figured it would be a brilliant read. Yeah, it’s a real shame I hadn’t read the book before watching the film, but I’m doing this new thing whereby I don’t dwell on what I cannot control and I must say it’s blissful. Gone Girl is bordering on a girly story with the inclusion of a perfect couple and therefore a romantic element… It’s the darkness I’m attracted to though.
Following Gone Girl I have Stephen King’s new novel Finders Keepers. I’m feeling that losing myself in other worlds will be helpful right now.
I feel like there is so much and so little to say. I seldom write something worth while. I tend to write snippets of anger or worry. I’d like to just sit down, shut the world out and let the thoughts pour out before me, even if they’re somewhat jumbled. Everything is jumbled anyway so it’s to be expected. My last day at Wolgarston is this Thursday. This job saved me from impending insanity. It enabled me to appear normal. It enabled me to live out the dream of adulthood. Buying wall art, planning evenings in, cooking meals, choosing places to put beloved trinkets. I had my weekday job and my rented home at 21. Things were good. I had turned my pitiful life around. I was worth something. I was a normal person.
Last year everything fell apart and the normal life crumbled at my feet. The normal girl was once again replaced with a girl worryingly close to the edge. That girl doesn’t care for cute trinkets and nice meals. She wallows in dark self-pity until it swallows her.
And that it did.
So what do I do with all my shiny, new spare time? It’s going to be so strange leaving that place and walking into the unknown. It’s incredible how much life changes from one year to the next. I’m looking forward to having some time. I’m not sure why but I need it. I have just let 3/4s of a year pass me by and I sit here very soon to be unemployed. What a waste of time. This time won’t be wasted. It will be useful in ways I can’t explain.
It’s nice to see your life as chapters. It conveys acceptance of change, loss or gain. Just the use of the word shows strength. I am closing one chapter and I think the next one will be riveting, as life should be.
I start university in September… Who would have seen this coming? This could be the making of me. This could truly be my thing. I feel like I’ve always been looking for my thing, if that sounds familiar then you’ll know how tough life is when you can’t explain what is missing.
I can’t picture my life in a few months time. I’ll be a student. I’ll be going in to lectures then grabbing a beer with my new pals. I’ll be doing part time work, perhaps bar work at the weekends. I’ll be constantly typing away on my laptop, always thinking about seeing these new friends. I’ll be excitedly talking about my day to people I care about. I’ll have discipline and passion. This is what I hope for anyway. I hope it’s my thing. I hope I turn things around again.
I believe that it’s okay to fuck up. Do it, fix it and learn from it. Christ, life is so short. If anyone wants to look down on me for having a tough time then go right ahead.
Or nod, smile and be reassuring. In the end what does it matter?