I Know, I Know, I Suck

Yes, yes, calm your pants, I know I've had no posts forEVS. Big soz.

This is also going to be a dickish short post. Again, soz.

I've just not been very happy at the moment. Don't worry, I'm not using the whole 'OMGEEEEE I'M SO DEPRESSED' excuse when I'm not depressed in any way. Is it just me that gets annoyed when someone uses the word 'depressed' when really they're just sad? Depression is an illness; you're just feeling shit.

Anyhoo, I don't know what's up with me but I know that I'm just feeling a bit poo.

Mostly the fact that I'm crying for no reason - that's a main alert to me that I'm feeling crap. I'm not the type to cry unless it's at a book or film in which case I will cry so much that it's verging on absolutely terrifying.

Basically, in The TGI Era, I was the happiest I've ever been. Genuinely, properly happy. Whether it was down to TGI, I don't know. I hope not.

But now everything feels a bit rubbish. I know I don't have anything to complain about as I'm living the cushy arts student life. I mean it, I have 2 weeks between now and my first and only exam. For which I really just have to read some books.

And to make you hate me even more, I've decided to go to Paris. On Monday. Yes, I woke up this morning and thought, I want to go to Paris. So I booked a flight and will be going on Monday. To Paris. On Monday. Paris. Monday. I know.

I'm such a dick student.

Everyone hates me because of this but hey, I've got enough money from working my arse off last year and I've got some free time. Because I'm a terrible student who only starts studying about 2 days before an exam.

And I need to just step away from my life for a bit. So I'm running away to Paris for a few days. I hate myself for how horribly middle class I am. Oh if I only I were the STRONG INDEPENDENT WOMAN WHO DON'T NEED NO MAN that I've always wished I was.

To be fair though, I'm proving that I don't need no man to take me off on a romantic Parisian getaway. I shall romance myself thank you very much (oo-er).

As I've been saying to people, I'm just like Colin Firth in Mamma Mia...

Spontaneous. Not called Harry. Spontaneous. Full of spontaneity.

I quite like this new spontaneous side of me that's appearing. It's just like when I spontaneously decided to get a tattoo a few months ago. Nancy 2 years ago would be horrified at what I was doing - having no plans and not knowing what I want to do.

I am floating in an ocean of possibilities and spontaneity. Oooh how metaphoric of me.

Also look at how many times I've mentioned spontaneity and being spontaneous. They're not even looking like words now. You'd have thought I'd have learned how to spell them after writing them so many times. Nope. I love me some autocorrect.

Au revoir mes cheries.

(Spontaneous).