Hello. You guys. Aw. I'm sorry. I really really am, I'm sorry that I missed you all and that I haven't posted substantially for well over...urgh, I don't really want to even think about how long it's been now.
Can I just say? I DETEST this new layout. It's really just...ew.
Oh dear. In my extended sabbatical from this blog my eloquence seems to have deserted me.
I really have been busy for a long time with exams and stuff. Year 11 hit me like a brick wall with exams, retakes, coursework and deadlines. Sounds obvious? I know. Heh.
Don't think that means I haven't missed you all though!! My parents are awesome; there has been talk about getting little ole' me a laptop in the wake of Results Day. I wonder. So I was kinda using that as an excuse in my head, about how as soon as I had my own laptop (my old one has keys missing and limps along; I'd be better off using a typewriter to produce a document delivered by carrier pigeon to someone with severe arthritis and an extreme internet-related phobia to type this up for me. I'm sure you get the point; the gist; the nub), I'd be back to writing to at least the paltry sum of two a week. However, carpe diem as they say. The time is now. Because I have much to sa-a-a-a-a-y.
NOW is when I aim to start writing again. Not sporadically. Because I'm on study leave at the moment, and I fill my designated breams during my off-days with reading and (joy!) eating, I feel like I need to keep my brain breathing; my capacity to nap currently is something special. I'm a sloth. The other reason is because I really miss the feeling of having something good stored up to say to you guys as soon as my bum hits my desk chair (ooh, that sounds posh; what it really is is a gorgeous, dark-wood and green leather chair which floats around my room to make it look more grown-up). I finally made this long-overdue decision with a book (one of eight picked up on Thursday from the library, wooooo!) called 'Adorkable'. I won't give you a review now (future blog post, eeeee!!!), but suffice to say it gave me the boot I required and I know I need to start writing again.
So. Are you all sitting comfortably? Good. Then I'll begin.
(Another thing I love about having my blog back is that it also provides a useful out with which to exhaust my staggering capacity to talk about, well...me!)
I'm on Study Leave now. Over halfway through my final twelve GCSE exams. Weirdly, it's not so much the revision, and the DOING of the exams that terrifies me; no, it's the fact that I'll have to face up to the results that doing these exams yield. Apparently, it's not enough any more to merely rock up and get an A* for just attending the wretched thing. It's odd to think that in less than three months I'll be a bona fide Sixth-Former, able to wear my own gorgeous clothes to school and to look down (well, technically and physically look up, because I'm only five foot four- well, I can't lie to you, bloggers, I am LESS than five foot four. But only slightly less!!!) on the commoners, straggling off to PE, weighed down nicely with their textbooks for superfluous subjects that I DON'T HAVE TO DO ANY LONGER. I can't wait!!!
Unfortunately, there comes bad with all these good changes in my life. Recently, I haven't been doing very well socially. I'm sure that's no surprise to you lot, you all know how I operate around people (i.e I don't). But recently, it's been getting worse and worse. Now, I've officially reached The End Of My Tether. If I have an issue with someone, they'll know about it. I scream, I cry, I shake in the face of anyone foolish enough to conjure up a problem that they have with me and expect me to take it lying down. I'm constantly dragged down by the weight of my fury; I'm so angry I can taste it, I can see it when I shut my eyes. So consequently, this affects my ability to DO. To GO. To BE. I can't leave my house. No, wait, I can. I have a strong desire not to. Ever again. Because right now, people freak the bobby socks off me. They really do. Strangers are worse than friends- I can go as far as to tolerate an argument with a friend, before breaking down privately. But for a randomer in town to look at me, for the bus driver to try and strike up a conversation? NOOOOOO. I just can't deal with people at the moment.
I know this whole reluctance to leave the house stems mostly from the tension building up surrounding my exams. I'm not worried about myself, it's just a slightly debilitating condition when it renders me panicky in any location excepting mine or my boyfriend's house.
But I decided that, even though this IS stress-related, the fears and tears and panic aren't unfounded at school; essentially, I wouldn't be feeling half as bad if I didn't have a reason to detest the majority of year eleven. So, get this, today I deleted any worthless contacts from my phone, like Strada and Hotel Chocolat. BUT, BUT I kept everyone who makes me feel awful about myself (brings on the bad vibes) and put s (BAD) next to their names. Now, that's pretty sad. I know. BUT bizarrely empowering. It's because I'm a forgetful so-and-so, if they text me I won't think twice before merrily replying to ask them of their identity. No, what I'm planning for them is something much bigger. Childish? Maybe. Healthy? Almost certainly not. But, perfect? Absolutely. Freezing. Total and utter ignorance of them, their words, thoughts, feelings, everything. Any reservations I had about this plan previously (what if their attitudes are justifiable by 'hoatme issues'? What if I'm not being singled out?) have been ruthlessly put paid to by the unquestionable logic that so beautifully dictates that if they don't care enough about MY feelings, MY situations to enquire before they start this merciless campaign of dragging me to my lowest possible ebb, of sucking the life completely out of Beth before moving on like she didn't exist...if they don't care about me, why should I give a damn about ANY of them?
This isn't, let me specify (to give you the full magnitude of my exam-induced-but-completely-justified neurosis) JUST reserved for the ones that texted, called, talked about me. The onesthat sent my stomach into a flat-spin of sickened panic. This is for the ones that stagger drunkenly up to me at parties, promising a glorious reunion of best-friendship, before ignoring the next day, both me and the fresh wounds they've ripped open with their careless, intoxicated words. This is for the people that decided to leave me when I needed them the most, to get their friends in on the secret, to try and make me look stupid in front of everyone else. This is for everyone who wasn't caring enough to make it worth my time, when all I gave to them was friendship, listening and understanding.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm under no illusion that I am faultless here; I am annoying, passionate, pedantic, loud, scary and angry. But I've had enough of taking ALL the blame for being treated the way I have been treated for the last five years of my adolescence. It's a crazily intoxicating thought that, come the first day of a brand-new year, following four glorious, incommunicado months, I will be strong enough to ignore them, strong enough to block out the undoubtedly negative response this will merit.
But the thing is, they don't know about any of my plans yet. And even if they stumbled across a silly little dormant blog in the back end of nowhere, hardly worth registering on their Tumblr-radars (NOT a blog, JUST AN ONLINE MOODBOARD), they'd be far too stupid to realise that my campaign includes them. It's awesome, being able to bank wholeheartedly on someone's stupidity. Knowledge is power, you see.
But the very, very final thing to say, to bring about my comeback, to cement my power and my strength and my independence from now, for the rest of my life, is this: I'm not scared any more. They don't scare me. All this time has been WASTED, fearing the very worst that these idiots could do to me. But really, what's worse than five years of being made to feel like a fourth-class citizen for nothing? I'm not scared of you any more, ladies and gentlemen. I'm over it. Bring it on.