It's funny, isn't it, how drastically cirumstances can change in any given period of time. Except maybe prehistoric in which things didn't seem to change drastically and it took millions of years for things to notice that the grass, well, exists on the other... well, not in water.
I think every year of my life so far, save for the embarassing, crude child and pre-teen years (which will come back to haunt me before I'm twenty and/or mature, I'm sure of it)... okay, so every year of my life since I was like, 12 has been fundamentally different from every other that I can almost organise my life into, what, 5 categories?
The Blissfully Ignorant And Happy year (in which I was bullied but ignored it so well I can hardly remember any of it)
The Discovering The Wonders Of The Internet year
The Swapping My Awesome Group For A Pretty Dire Group But Ending Up With No Friends For Like The Rest Of The year
The Having The Best Friend(s) I Could Ever Ask For year (which was, in reality, only six months or so, but I was on good terms with all)
And the current, the Losing Said Friends Due To My Own Paranoia And Refusing To Admit It And Blaming Everybody Else And Losing All Respect And Slipping Into A Depression And Developing Trichotillomania For No Particular Reason Other Than lol cause its cool And Wishing Everybody Else Were Dead And Hating Myself And What I've Done and Taking A Whole Fucking 6 Months to Come to Terms With What I'd Done And Another Fucking 6 Months To Actually Do Something About It And Deciding "no, wait, I've fallen into the emo trap Lauren you're not special or depressed you're a douche get a grip and do something about it" year.
Who knew I had so much insecurity to share?
Being on I-Don't-Actually-Hate-Your-Face terms with Natalie again has released a surge of optimism (I don't know where it came from. Maybe the sock drawer. I seem to keep everything in there) that I am a decent person, when I get round to it. I am decent-looking; I don't look like the lovechild of a banshee and Dierdrie Barlow (let's face it; it would never work) and I am not necessarily going to die alone, unless I choose to, of course.
I'm just terrified of loneliness, I guess, and I started feeling lonely suddenly when all that happened... this time last year? Or Septemberish. That's probably what drove me to all that abysmal twattery, heh. Or it was just a long-overdue moment of immaturity. (Overdue because I'd spent that year acting high-and-mighty it was eventually going to slip into aren't I just so wonderful, I am aren't I? Aren't I?? Tell me I am TELL ME I'M WONDERFUL). We all get it. I could probably highlight a time when everybody I knew was a twit.
I'm just a late bloomer. :]
From this year I can conclude that isolation isn't a barrel of laughs (though it could be, if you kept someone in there for long enough)
I've been itching to write this down somewhere. I've been itching to have the sincerity to write something like this for months now. Six months ago I'd have been bitching about how Everybody(tm) was a big fat meanie. Even a month ago I'd have probably still been edgy. In a month's time I'll most likely be back to my old, blissful self (or hanging from a noose, depending on my exam results). Let's hope so, at least (not referring to the noose!). I wanna grow up.
