Long time, no see.

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...

The beginning of a new era.

So, I moved out of my flat. My lovely, pretty flat that I painted and cleaned when I moved in, that I decorated, that I lived in on my own for eighteen months and that I desperately loved. However, when I walked out of the door for the final time on Tuesday, I did not feel any sense of sadness, in fact, I pretty much ran out of there.

I now live in a shared house with people. I love my room and the two girls are lovely, don't get me wrong, but I don't like it. It's not my house and they aren't my things here (well, some are, but not the furniture). And yes, it might be a nicer house with a nicer kitchen, nicer bathroom, nicer garden, in a nicer area and nearer to the train station (4 minute walk from my bedroom to the train station, rather than 20 minutes), but I do not like it. It isn't mine, it isn't a symbol of everything I worked for, it is just a symbol of my life slowly moving out of my control.

I have been happily living in my own little bubble of independence since I moved to London, living on my own, doing everything myself and not asking for help, but now this is a step away from that. How I live my life at home is dictated by other people, the bathroom schedule, the kitchen schedule, the cleaning schedule etc, and everyone keeps reminding me that "it's only a stepping stone, you'll be living with Mr A within 5 months" and yes, that is true, but that is still a sign that my life is moving out of my control. Being in a serious relationship, especially when you live together, means that your lives become entwined, and you can't make decisions on your own. I find that hard to deal with, and I know I need to get over it because I can't stay like this forever (as much as I think being a spinster with a brown sofa and a lot of cats actually sounds quite nice) because that's just a ridiculous, selfish attitude to have on life. It still stresses me out, though. At least, at the moment, I can protect myself, but when that onus isn't all on me? That's scary.

Being a grown up is stupid.

Fact.

Freaking out.

I am being forced to move house, because, let's face it, two burglaries in four months really was enough. I'm moving in with other people for the first time since living with people in university halls put me off, but only for 5 months because in the middle of all that, my boyfriend asked me to move in with him which will happen in August, after his tenancy has ended.

And, despite all of that, I do not want to move. I really, really do not want to move. I love this horrible, unsafe, scabby little flat so much because it was mine - It was the place I chose on my own, it was the place I bought my furniture for, it was the place I had been working towards having since I left school. It's beautiful, quiet and even though it's far away from just about everywhere, obviously unsafe, has dreadful carpets and curtains and I have annoying neighbours, I love it. I love living here, and I love living on my own. Other people are annoying, want to talk all the time, judge me from sitting on the sofa all day at the weekend, judge what I eat, judge what I do or do not do... I literally cannot think of anything worse than living with other people, my boyfriend included and all in all, I don't want any of this to be happening, not even a little bit.

Living with other people is like being on show all of the time. I can't spend all day on the sofa if I want to, I can't eat nutella from the jar for dinner if I have other people to feed too, I can't walk around with my Diana Ross-style natural hair without straightening it, I can't set my alarm for 20 minutes before the time I actually need to get up and press the 'sleep' button repeatedly, I can't put my deodorant on and then get back into bed when it's too cold to stand around and wait for it to dry, I can't spend whole evenings sat using the internet, I can't get up at the time I want to get up at weekends, I can't bleach my moustache and still wander around doing other things, I can't decorate the way I want to...

Generally, I am too selfish to live with people and my boyfriend rarely lets me get my own way, so I will be living his life AND I DON'T WANT TO. I don't care how many of my friends and family keep talking about me behind my back (although, fair play, they do tell me what they say to my face later) because apparently going out with someone for 12 months and not wanting to live together is weird, or not even living with someone by the age of 24 is weird, I DO NOT CARE. I LOVE LIVING ON MY OWN AND I LOVE HAVING MY OWN THINGS AND MY OWN LIFE. I DON'T WANT TO MOVE AND I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO LIVE SOMEONE ELSE'S LIFE.

I literally cry every time I think about it. I do not want any of this to be happening. I want to stay here in my own comfort zone, living my own life. I don't want this, any of it.

Someone make it stop, please?

"This week, I have learnt..."

It's funny how things always happen all at once, how life can be all or nothing.

As I said before, the first few weeks of this year were fantastic. That was, until this week. After a stressful few days, on Wednesday, I had a moment where the stress of work finally got too much, so was sent home from work during a meeting (after school, I might add). I got home to find that my flat had been burgled again (yep, second time in four months), returned to school the next day only to end up being violently sick in the middle of a lesson observation. I did run out of the room, highly unprofessional, but still highly embarrassing.

Like I said, it's funny how things happen all at once, and I can only hope that the old adage, "things happen in threes", turns out to be true. That was enough, thank you very much.

So, at times like this, when life starts to throw challenges at you, everyone has their own coping strategy. Some are decidedly more effective than others. My strategy is to sit and sulk for about 48 hours, have a good old cry and generally feel sorry for myself. This seems to get it out of my system, then I wake up on the third day ready to sort my life out. Now, I won't pretend this is an effective strategy, but it is how I have always coped. I have always had to sort myself out and I now remember why.

Because, as for relying on others...? No. So, what have I learnt this week? (Or, rather, what have I been reminded of this week?) If you want something done, you have to do it yourself. If you need help, tough, sort it out yourself. If you need some moral support, you will never be able to rely on anyone for that, not really, so again, just sort yourself out.

Some of my friends have been lovely, don't get me wrong, and I am truly grateful to those people, but, with one exception, they weren't the people I thought would be there. And, to be quite frank, they weren't the people who should have been there. When I've gotten upset, people have gotten annoyed with me. When I haven't wanted to go out, I have been told I've been awkward. When I said I was scared of my own flat, people told me "Ohhh, you'll be ok..." and laughed it off. When I cried, I was told I was wearing people down with my mood but, let's face it, I'm not actually like this a lot. I think I've cried in front of people three times In the last twelve months: Twice after being burgled and once when I lost my Grandad. I'm hardly a drama queen, I hate that about people and so I hate being made to feel like one when I occasionally let the mask slip and show that I am, actually, struggling.

It happens. Life is not always happy and, sometimes, people feel sad. Get over it.

So, in conclusion, other people suck and you can only truly rely on yourself. And a cup of tea. Because, let's face it, tea makes everything better.

I am very glad it is February.

January is such a rubbish month, what with long, cold nights and no-one having any money to do anything, it is a really hard month to kick start the year. But, hurrah, we are almost a week into February and life is already getting much better.

So, to review my year so far: this last month has been better than most of last year combined. I have finally gotten to grips with my relationship (I had been struggling with it for a number of reasons), my career is seemingly on the up with more potential opportunities on the horizon, my social life is improving massively after having befriended the least likely of acquaintances, I am back at the gym and feeling happy with my body, I have found a work-life balance and have also found my monkey onesie, hiding at the back of a cupboard... What more could I have wanted? I have dragged myself from crying myself to sleep every night to feeling in control and positive about my life again.

Anyone who says that New Years resolutions are a waste of time now has me to answer to. Yes, it is purely psychological, but hey, I needed the fresh start, to break away from my life as it had become and an excuse to turn over a new leaf. And, honestly, I'm proud of myself. Things are finally getting better, and I have reversed my route down the slippery slope.

I have smiled more in the last weeks than I have for months. And laughed :)

This will make you smile.

Watch it and smile.

Happy weekend!

I am 23.

Not 63. Or 53. Or, even, 33 for that matter. I am 23.

I want to spend my Friday night going to the pub, having a few cheeky drinks with a group of lovely friends, and wobbling home far too late. I then want to spend my Saturday morning cooking a greasy fry-up, sitting on my sofa watching cookery programmes which show recipes I will never cook and then go to the gym before an afternoon of shopping, cinema or some general fun activity. On Saturday night, I then want to go out, drink enough that I want to dance the hours away, not have a massive argument with my boyfriend, who is a vile drunk, and then spend the hours between 2 and 4am on the night bus. This ideal weekend should then be topped off by spending Sunday on the sofa, swearing that I will never drink again, and watching endless repeats of some sitcom one of the satellite channels are showing.

I do not want to spend all three evenings of my weekend stuck in, sitting on the sofa or playing cards. I will repeat, I am not 53.

I do not want to spend all threes days sitting around on the sofa or going shopping, cinema etc on my own. I AM NOT 53.

And, whilst we are at it, I do not want to live with my boyfriend, get married or have children. I AM 23 AND THAT IS OK!!!

In case you were wondering, yes, I am getting quite grumpy. Don't get me wrong, if that's how you want to spend your life and you are happy then great, and I am happy for you, but don't try to make me jealous of your life or drag me into it. It is ok to be 23 and want to go out and enjoy life, but when everyone in my life is either older or settling down, it suddenly doesn't seem ok to act my age! And, please bear in mind that when I say "older", I mean 27/28 ish. Which yes, is not old, but the four or five year difference seems to make such a big difference - everyone that age seems to be fine with spending a whole weekend stuck indoors and acting like 50-something's, rather than going out. I want to go ooooooooooout! *stamps foot like a petulant toddler*