I haven't posted anything on here in a while and now I'm feeling super guilty about it and I'm trying to think of really interesting captivating things I have been doing instead but all that has happened has been

• MAJOR EMOTIONAL TRAUMA//HEARTBREAK 
• ~we don't need to deal with that right now though~
• I've spent too too much money on magazines
• I think over the past two weeks I've watched The Virgin Suicides about 12 times, which is now my new record uh
• FINDING A SPECIAL 'VELVET' SECTION ON THE AMERICAN APPAREL WEBSITE
• The prospect of getting a new job that gets me £££
• Oh and finally, probably most importantly, I'm finally getting all the SAT stuff sorted out which means that I'll take a practise test in May, then go and visit different colleges in the US in the summer, then in October I'll take the test for real then finally apply to Columbia and NYU[!!!!] 
• When I was sorting that out oh lord, there were tearz of JOY oh wow

I think later on I'll write something more substantial and frankly more interesting but at the moment I'm stuck in a Maths//Spanish work ~warp~ or whatever, meaning I have a lot of work to do, and no motivation to do it with. So hopefully by the end of today I'll have written two pages of Botellón stuff which means I'm half way through!! Oh and then I can make some more First Aid Kit mix tapes and make more glittery candles.

[I don't know if this is going to be too sad and introspective for me to bear so I might just tail off half way through]

I can't even write any more, and that's all I used to do and it's killing me because I can't ever articulate what I want without making myself sound silly and then I get scared and delete pages and pages of writing and the bottom of my bin is full of ash and burn bits of my journal and I hate this. I feel silly for being so attached to something that shouldn't be that important, there are much more productive ways to spend one's time but I can't find one to really engage me properly so I always end up scratching my thoughts out on paper in spiky writing and then crying a lot. I think a lot of things that used to be so important to me aren't any more and I feel like I only really have one or two priorities that I really want to excel at and I can't even do them without feeling stupid and useless.

I think being in love is as consuming a hobby as any that you could have, I don't know, my head kind of feels full all the time and it's so heavy and it's tinting all my thoughts and it's making me think about myself and it's making me more sad and I'm not sure why. It's nice but I just feel so heavy all the time and it makes me want to scream because I can't express it properly and I'm constantly in pain because you know when you just want to be with someone all the time because they make you feel more okay than you possibly thought you could ever feel and then you realise that you can't see them and you heart kind of cracks and I'm shattered and I don't want this to carry on. But being in love engulfs you, I want to romanticise all of this and make it sound less like word vomit but I don't think I really can, like I want to cry all the time but happy tears if that makes any sense and I feel so unbalanced and like I'm sort of teetering on the edge of falling into the same sort of state I was in, in may.

Looking back on things that aren't so important to me now though, I think that I've kind of changed in terms of what inspires me, I used to check style.com religiously every day after school and during break, during fashion week I'd take days off school and watch shows live in my bedroom under my duvet and I'd cover my walls with cut outs from the fashion week editions of ELLE and VOGUE and that just made me so so happy just because it was pure inspiration, taken straight from some creative wonders like McQueen and Galliano and i don't know, I kind of stopped that after I started using my tumblr blog, when i started i was still totally in love with the idea of runway fashion, and now I've just stopped. looking back now, Alexander McQueen, rest in peace, is passed and now, this sounds totally irrational and stupid, but I miss him, even for just four years, his collections were all I really though about come A/W or S/S season, seriously, I'd buy two copies of the magazines so I could keep one in perfect condition and then cut one up for my walls, and it was exactly the same for Galliano for Dior, I just had such a passion for it and now it's just gone.

I think I just miss being passionate about something, all I ever get passionate about is writing and I'm sure no one is really interested in this, I know I'm no good but I just love it and it's kind of heart breaking that I'm not good at the one thing I totally love.

I've just changed, in more ways that one I guess, two people who were major parts of my life have now gone, that's the most painful part I think, is that they can't come back, and that changed me I suppose, like I'm not hardened to it or anything, but I've gotten used to having heart ache all the time and I'm used to my head being full of messy, painful thoughts and now being sad inspires me so much more than being happy which I don't think is a good thing but I just hope that sometime this year or maybe in the next I'll find something that makes me passionate and hopefully I'll be good at it and then I might be happier.

too much time spent on thoughts

Thinking about it, I'm only ever truly, utterly happy when I'm with people, most of the time, living in the country, the closest I normally am from my 'happy people' is about ten miles by car. So most of the time I'm in the middle of nowhere on my own. Mostly I'm quiet. I read a lot more now. I go for walks, I use my bike a lot. I think I've spent about 70% of my life's money on bus and train tickets to escape where I live and most nights I end up sitting on the roof of my house with my cat, a blanket and a cup of cold tea, looking down to hill into the countryside. I would make a long post about the 'perks' of living in a village, but thus far I can't see any. The things I do to combat the isolation is to just immerse myself in 'other-worldly' characters. There are women that I just wish I could be like, granted, the majority of them are fictional, but I feel a need to be inspired and to break the boredom that comes with living here. There are characters like Blair Waldorf, or Cecilia Lisbon, or Margot Tenenbaum that are just so perfect that you want to embody everything about them, and their inevitable flaws are the things you hold dearest to yourself, you can identify, I feel anyway, with a character to a greater extent if you have some sort of grasp on what really makes their identity. But mainly, and this is only in the past half a year or so, it's characters and people that you can just aspire to be like, and this is greatest when being like them seems ever so slightly more realistic, and the product of that would make you the happiest you could be. To have the passion that Catherine Earnshaw possesses would make me so intolerably happy, I would probably drive myself to death in just the same way as she did, I think it would be wonderful to feel that sort of passion for a person or a feeling, to having it consume your mind to the point it drives you to total distraction. I think I aspire more to be a tortured literary heroine than anything else, this may prove a problem if I ever have to start making serious and proper decisions about what I want to do if I can ever leave this village.