17.1.11

This Is War

The weather outside is frightful. Today is supposedly the most depressing day of the year. Thankfully, compared to last week's astronomical levels of apathy, this week was a bed of roses.
I wrote back in November about the feeling of crushing, crippling fear that lets you know you're alive and you have something to lose. I lost even that. Last week I genuinely wouldn't have cared if I was moving forwards, backwards or downwards, but now the pain is going, the numbness is fading, and life must go on. When a friend told me that if he could invest in me and my probable bright future, he would, and even my high-achieving, hard-hitting parents were both sympathetic and refusing to let me wallow in equal measures, I thought it was high time to come back. Nobody should be able to make me feel like my life isn't a gift, and worth fighting for. And continue fighting for, until eventually I win.
I've been watching a bit too much Gossip Girl and as a result have become fixated with interesting tights and short skirts. My tights draw at home in Bristol is full of bright colours, but these lace ones are the new in thing. It would be even better if they were neon.

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