Tuesday

Tonight we're going to do it all again for Helen's birthday: eating, drinking, partying, stumbling home, congregating in my room at 12 tomorrow hungover, wearing a mixture of pyjamas, tracksuits and last night's clothes, make up smudged all over our faces, laughing about the pictures, reminding each other about what we did and did not do, cringing, giggling, accusing and recovering. We always say, 'Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we poison ourselves and do stupid things?' but it happens over and over and we laugh and cry and vomit and hurt ourselves and embarrass ourselves and make new, deep, lasting best friends with people we know and often don't know. And we love it :P

This weekend was hot, and walking hand in hand just before dusk felt like a holiday - a heavy, scented night overseas - and I was happy talking to you until 1 about my ignosticism and your atheism and faith and Plato and Jesus. And even when we tossed and turned in the heat, getting frustrated with ourselves and each other and the night and you ending up on the floor and me, curled up under a bed sheet on the mattress, even then I was happy and would not have been anywhere else [except maybe Bradford, where I was originally meant to visit]. And even when I cried in the street, hot and bothered and feeling hard-done by, I was where I wanted to be :P Thank you.

I have loads of work to do, and German to revise, but as you can see, I am spending my time drunk and in love and blogging. I feel as though I am missing something though, not in a bad way, just in the way that I am not truly comfortable. I feel like there's something just behind my shoulder, out of my peripheral vision, that I really, really want to see but can't find the right angle. I think it's stress!

And I realise how long it has been since I immersed myself in my little blog world, so sorry for the neglect people!

Lucy
xxx