I'm not here. And I'm not there.
I changed course at university. I gave up the fight, the battle, and possibly even lost a war. And I felt so resigned. As if a best friend had passed away, and I had collected all of their clothes and possessions. Folded them away. Packaged them in a brown paper bag. And stuffed them to the back of some reject cupboard.
And now I just sit.
I had intended to enter 2 writing competitions this week. I think they were the Jeremy Mogford Prize and a novel competition. I didn't. Also this week is the last week to hear from two competitions I entered this summer, when my life still had some sense of hope in it. And now-
I can't write anymore. Not coherently. I'm struggling to read for more than 30 minutes, let alone write anything of my own.
I don't even keep my diary anymore.
I attempted to return to university this past week but it didn't work. I wandered corridors and felt nothing. I tried to speak to tutors; they weren't in their offices, so I just went back home. I had been staying with a friend, whilst looking for a new flat. Her flatmates didn't want me there. I viewed a property, and the guy didn't want me to be his roommate. I don't have any student funding either. So, I packed up and came home on Monday.
I feel delicately separate.
Tomorrow, I'm supposed to be at my writing class. I don't have enough money for the train fare. So I'm staying at home.
I'm supposed to view one more property this weekend. And I'm supposed to get student funding this following week. If things don't work out, I'm dropping out of both universities, I'm going to get a full time job, and pretend that the past seven years of my life didn't occur.
Because let's face it...the past seven years have been a never ending cycle of false hope and disappointment, and of course...debt.