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...

Unexpected homesickness.

When I moved to London in July, I had been counting the days, hours and minutes for months (if not years) because getting away from there was my ultimate dream. I finally did it: I moved here, set up home, managed on my own despite threatening neighbours, living in a dodgy area, having all my furniture go missing and being skint. It has been absolutely everything I thought it would and more and I am so glad I did it. I love my pokey, slightly rough-round-the-edges flat and I love the independence I finally have.

Yet, I am still feeling homesick. I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't want to go home on a permanent basis by any stretch of the imagination but I am having serious Devon cravings and I miss my family and friends so much it actually hurts to think about. I need a pasty, a walk to the beach and a chat with my Grandma; I need a flipping good night out with my girls and a catch up in the pub; I miss my guinea pigs and more than anything, I miss the people. It really has been a don't-realise-what-you've-got-til-it's-gone moment with them: I spent so much time focussing on what a shithole Plymouth is (and it is, I'm not denying that) that I forgot that actually, especially in the last couple of years, I had been very happy there and it was entirely down to the people. My friends picked me up when I was down, my family stood by me even when things got very tough between us all and now I really miss their companionship.

I guess I am, actually, getting a bit lonely here. I haven't seen anyone other than work people or my boyfriend for weeks because I've been so skint and it is, unfortunately, the one downside to living alone. I must rectify that this week, I must get out of the house.

I've booked my train tickets back home for half term at least, but it still seems like an age away despite how quickly the last three weeks have flown by.

Just down the road, the exact spot I intend to stuff my face with pasty.

It'll come round soon, though. And bring on the pasty ♥

Moving is hard.

Suddenly it hit me that I'm actually all on my own. I live here now, actual London, with no-one else, with no friends locally and generally with nothing to do. 9 weeks until I start work, and until then and I get to meet people, I'm on my own. Shit.

Being lonely sucks. I expected to feel like this at some point in this year of living on my own, but I didn't expect it to really hit as soon as my Mum left yesterday. I thought I'd have too much stuff to do, which I do, but that's worse because it just reminds me I have nothing to look forward to anymore.

I'm scared and want a fucking cuddle.

And I need to find some money. I can't sell my car, I just can't. I can't be this cut off and isolated. I need to speak to my Dad...