Today I wished I kept a diary. I remembered how much I loved writing and how I've always thought it to be a very good creative outlet. I miss keeping my thoughts somewhere other than my brain, it feels better to say things and then feel the release of not having them all locked up. That sounds retarded, I know, but try not to think about it. So, I'm back.
I turned 19.
I went on tour.
I got very good grades. VERY good grades.
I got into a university that I'm still unsure about; Canterbury Christ Church, on the Folkstone campus, to do Performing Arts. I do like it there, I love it there. But I'm scared of not knowing what's going to happen and being completely aware of who I'm living with and whether I'll enjoy this course, if it's the right thing to do.
I'm still smoking, unfortunately.
I'm still going to Church and I love it and I love God and everything's still difficult there, but when is life not a struggle?
My love life is completely non-existant and I, honestly, like it that way. Of course, I'm not going to deny that it is nice to have someone, but I like not having the hassle and confusion that boys bring, and the risks on my morals and beliefs. Hmm, plus it often gives you this false validation that fades after about ten minutes.
I really want to tell a story.
I think it's about time it was told.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment