today as I sobbed into my Grandma's arms over unimportant misunderstandings and sat down to dry my eyes as Dad explained what Milton Keynes was, I felt a little bit safer again.

This morning when I opened my eyes, one of my best friends from home was staring back at me, smiling.

I've been sleeping with kyanite under my pillow again so I thought it was all a dream, not a beautiful surprise.

I don't know who I am but I'm pretty sure it isn't the person living here.

just a perfect day

i loved that mental jetlag.

my body was sat, arse frozen on my doorstep puffing on a roll-up i wish i hadnt told myself i wanted, while my mind was still 100 miles away on warm grass in the sunshine with everyone who mattered once.

having another place to call home means i can escape and three years are quickly erased. the memories we cant share are wiped clean and all that is left is an easier, simpler time when we were just friends with few real cares or worries, living out of each others pockets with a naive outlook on the world.in a small town you can dream that you will become anything.

everything is temporary

im so lazy with my addictions.

at this moment in time it is hard to imagine a time when i didnt go more than 24 hours without a drink (i rarely find time to drink now)
but it is equally hard to remember how on earth i gave up smoking last year.

i have given up three times this year already, and i know it is better to be healthy and miss it, but right now i dont have time to go outside and forget myself by running through the meadows or drinking in the streets.

smoking on a rainy doorstep is my only current getaway. momentarily it substitutes being around everyone in the picture.


i long for a time when i can holiday again,

i want ghent 2009 back,

i want to play in paris,

i want to surf in cornwall.
The other day i noticed that i am rarely homesick for cheshire anymore and i think this is because the time when i leave leicester for good to go back there temporarily is shrinking right before my eyes so now i am trying to hold on very tightly to something which i spent a lot of time over the summer trying to escape. funny, that.

i would like christmas to hurry back soon...

all i want for christmas

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQH7972wAj6wkdHs0BkOSJG5DpqSUMSTCntgOk_3mRdRWzKItofkABF8zU-1f5bRrZ91A7RHgkiY5W-BvR3udMADcXdvGDc7EXwxK0eGtt5g4P_3SzTX3zkdYgErSKLn23zc2GMNov48Ur/s320/Sainsbury

and cheshire.


and secretley to be thin, world wide web.

tears in the bathwater

dramatic bathroom scenes.
i have a shameless love of them... i never told anyone until my housemate accidentley blurted out that she felt the same way.

having a bad week?

nothing feels as good as sliding down the shower, mascara to your shoulder blades, its foolproof.

today was no exception... i put my head under the water and made a promise to myself that next time i hated the city i would go back there for a minute and remember how home felt... there is a warmth that was a void.