Word Thief.

I don't think I've ever been this frustrated in my life.

I've always been hideously lazy, but this term I am really taking the piss. Not only have I constantly left all my work til the last minute, I have been so inactive in making my own life go anyway. 

I think the problem boils down to the procrastinating nature in me: if I put something off, I feel I will never have to do it. Right now, I've been looking at my bedroom for the past 2 weeks, wondering when I will tidy it. I always have some pathetic excuse for why I am not doing something: I have to clean the dishes. I have to read this book. I have to watch this entire series of shitty american tv. I have to learn how to sort myself out. 

I promise that in the new year, I will make my life go somewhere. I don't have the foggiest what I want to do in life. I know I want to live in Paris for a while, and I know I want to work in fashion photography, but it feels as though I am merely setting myself up for inevitable failure. I have an excuse for why I won't allow myself to reach for anything as well: by setting myself up for failure, I am never disappointed. Not in people, myself, or any situation at hand. I think this mentality shocks some of those I live with, and now I'm shocking myself. When did I become so defeatist? When did I feel so bloody old? I'm nineteen, for god's sake.

I am unattached, with no desire for a boyfriend (in that sense, I am incredibly lucky. I just do not want anyone in my life, because now is the time for me to try to be selfish). I have no job (I fear, anyway). I have 12 hours of university a week, and I can't even make that. I am inherently lazy (relatively speaking, I'm not. I have a job when I have been able to have one. I do not fanny about the place doing fuck all throughout the summer like some of my friends did). All in all, I should have a lot going for me.

I think I need to get out of England. It's my only option. To drop out of university, to get a job, learn to dance, grow plants, and live. I am not living right now. This half state I am in, when a night with American TV is what I look forward to, it not living. I have this life. I should use it. I should ignore my family (right?) and concentrate on living. No, concentrate on Being. I am a human, but I am not being. And there is no sense in that. I am doing the term a disservice. I am an embarrassment to myself. I shall change. I promise.