Well hello!

Long time no speak, I believe.

Well, I can't really say much has changed. I'm taking my driving test tomorrow and I'm losing myself in Stephen King books. I'm revising for my Alevels and trying not to think about stuff I shouldn't think about. And you know what? It's kind of working.

I only get small pangs now when I think of him. Only tiny far away ones, like a harp's strings being plucked along a very long corridor. Fragile but still distant. Oh, yes he could break me again if I wanted to. It's time that's healing this wound. Neglect almost. He's not around to think about, to attend to so my brain discards him. And only when the bus drives past where he lives or I see him or think of him unexpectedly does that pang go off and even then it's bearable.

Bearable.

Living without him wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. Certain things remind me of him: SuDoku, skiing, little things like that but I can talk about him now without it hurting so bad. And that's got to be good. Got to be.

He still hasn't told me. Hasn't uttered the two words I dread to hear and long for at the same time.

I'm leaving.

Well just go! I don't want to sit and wait for the email or the message. I don't want to wait for you to care about me enough to tell me because I know deep down in my heart that you never are and I'm wishing on stars that never existed.

Only in this head of mine would I allow him in and I'm blocking him now for all I'm worth.

I did my play. All the weeks of rehearsal and feelings of inadequacy all accumulated in that one adrenaline fueled night. Yes, I loved it. But drama is not my calling. I will never fit in the world that is drama. I'm not the right misfit. True enough I am A misfit but I'm not a drama one. I'm an english one, at best. At worst I'm just a misfit.

I don't know what is in my head. I'm in a writing mood. I could spew shit for the next hundred words and not notice. In the zone, as you would call it. Sometimes, I become frighteningly aware of my own existance, and the fact that I am in charge of a whole life. My life. Yes, I know I should have fathomed that I while back but sometimes it hits me so glaringly in the face that I can't face it, don't want to face the fact that I'm growing up.

Where did my childhood go? Where did it slip away to? One moment it's there, resting safely in the palm of my hand and the next it has abandoned me and I'm surrounded by thoughts of getting a job, and paying for my petrol and finding someone I could spend the rest of my life with. Yes, I have time. Not everything has to happen now but it will begin to happen and when it does how the hell can I stop it? Part of me longs for the freedom of my own life, the freedom that I am granted and the control it brings. And then the other part of me wants to hand it back, wants to cower away from responsibilty and sensible thoughts. Because I am not sensible. I've never been and doubt I ever will be. I'm cautious but they are two different things.

When it comes down to it, I'm just lost.