Louise:
I don’t really know if I’m ready for the next few weeks. I don’t really know if I’m happy with everything that has happened over the last few months. But I sure as hell underestimated myself. I passed my A Levels. I got into my first choice of university. I was absolutely certain that this would not happen. If someone had asked me two weeks ago what I thought my chance of getting into my first choice university was, I would have said there is more chance of me marrying Gary Sinise. Who, let’s admit, or maybe you won’t, so it’s just me pouring out my heart here, is really quite amazing.
Back to the nub of my story, the very tiny walk from the computers in the library to the tables in chairs on the other side of the room felt like the longest of my life, because I could not feel my legs. For at least a week previously every time I switched on the news, all I heard was that thousands of students around the country would not get into university at all. And all I felt was guilt. There was me, who did no work for the last two years, standing in silence (yes, silence) because I’d gotten what everybody wanted, and I wasn’t ready for it! I’ve put it off for a year, and there are people that can’t go, and they’d worked damn hard for it. And I did next to no work.
But words can’t really describe how I feel at the moment. My best friends did so incredibly well, and I’m so proud of them that even saying I’m So Incredibly Proud Of You feels like an understatement. And I don’t even know if they know how much they mean to me. It all started so well. It probably is still well. I don’t think it’s well. I miss them. And they’re all going to university in a month. It’s not the fact that I’m not going yet, that’s not what bothers me at all. It’s the idea of them being away. We can’t all gather up at the pub at the send of a text. I should have tried harder. I’ve got a month left, so I should try, shouldn’t I? Ah see, but I do. But something in me makes me scared of talking to my own friends. I get scared of sending texts to the whole group, organising something. When I think about it, it doesn’t seem like I try at all. I feel that people think that I think that they should make the effort. But that’s not what I think. Not at all. I’m shy, and I’m quiet, and I’m reserved, and I learn much more about people by sitting there, not in the conversation much, but by listening to them. That makes me happier. It probably seems v. antisocial, and I apologise from the bottom of my heart. I love listening to my friends chatting away at each other, making fun of the one sitting next to them, laughing at my attempts to play pool, even just sitting there just watching the telly. The fact that they are there, with me, makes me feel content. I’m not the kind of person that need fill silences with awkward chatter. I’m happy things being quiet. That makes it sound like I like things to be quiet all the time, I don’t. Sometimes noise and chaos and laughter are just what you need for a good day, something to remember, something that will make you continue smiling until the next morning, and you have to wake up, and then tread in a puddle of cat sick.
It makes me ache to continue thinking that in a month, everyone will be moving on with their lives, and that part of me is so happy for them. It’s what they deserve, they’re the best people I’ve ever had in my life. But then another part of me is terrified that they’ll forget. I don’t want to be forgotten again.
I can’t really take much more disruption in my life. I had accepted that things have to change as life goes on, that I understand. Everything had settled down. But then it got messed up, again. When a person you hold so close to your heart goes missing, that bit of your heart goes missing too. You try and pull it together, so no one can see. But inside you’re crumbling, and all you want is to curl up and not think until it solves itself, because there is nothing you can do to help. Feeling useless is the worst thing. There is nothing you can do. Even if the worst possible news came along, it would be solid, something knowing. Something that can’t be thought about in millions of what if’s, because that doesn’t matter any more. At least you’d know. Not knowing is the thing that tears you up inside. People try to help, take your mind off of it. It’s all I can expect, and I’m grateful beyond anything. But it doesn’t work like that. I cannot physically take it any more.
So here is what is currently bouncing off the walls inside my head.
That seemed to take a lot of time for such a small amount of pictures.
I miss you
x
