But today, I need to write. I need to write and write and write until everything that is in my brain is so fed up of being there that it just goes away and leaves me with the happy thoughts I am trying to push through.
It has been a really, really hard six weeks. To cut a long story short, I moved into my boyfriend's flat and then, six days later, he dumped me, citing no reason, only to find out a week later that it was in fact because he was shagging someone else. - Insert completely appropriate expletive of your choice here - This left me, not only dealing with the emotions of that situation, but homeless with stuff in storage, stuff in his flat and some stuff in a very small suitcase at a friend's house. I don't know what I would have done were it not for my little suitcase and my very lovely friends, I am more grateful than I can ever really show.
So now, here I am, not-quite-6 weeks later, in a lovely flat I share with a model. She's lovely, don't get me wrong, but we lead very different lives. For example, on Thursday, she spent the day on a beach in Cannes, drinking champagne, whilst I spent the day scrubbing vomit off my bag (such are the joys of teaching 5 year olds). This difference serves as a constant reminder that, whilst we do get on really, really well, this is not really where I am supposed to be.
But, where the hell am I supposed to be? I don't feel like I belong here, I'm not sure that I even belong in London anymore because, let's face it, what the hell do I have here now? I mean, other than work, but that can't be all I have? I have a few friends here, but I'm not sure they have truly crossed over from being 'work friends' to 'friends' (the difference being that, if I ever left my job, would I see them again?) and I don't have anyone here that I can just ring and be like, "want to go for a coffee?" and them just say "yes". Everyone else is getting on with their full lives with their new families, partners and friends and here I am, with none of that. Or, at least, not really here.
I know I can't go back home to Devon, I'd end up going insane. But, at the same time, I don't really want to stay here. But where do I go? I just want my life to come back together, rather than being so disjointed, with stuff and people and memories all over the place. I want to feel like somewhere is "My Home" again, like my old flat, and to feel like I am somehow in control of my life.
Basically, I want to know who I am, what I'm doing here and where I belong.
It's going to be another hard year...
