The times they are a changing

I am sitting in a very bare bedroom right now. But as bare and as plain as it is, it is still so messy and cluttered!! Pretty much everything is in boxes now, although carrier bags have started to take role of storage now as I have run out of boxes, and it just feels so weird to be able to literally pack up my life of the last year.

I have lived on and off in The Bungabow since June 2009. Our lovely landlord Pete let us live here rent free until September and my gosh did we make the most of it! My first night here I watched Meet Joe Black with Apples and Nick, and of course Apples talked all the way through it, my second night here AJ and Holly came over and we got very very drunk which resulted in me throwing up in the toilet and then passing out in the hallway, leaving AJ to carry me to my bed. Since then there has been some truly amazing moments here, hiding all of Kate's food in the oven and filling her cupboard with teddies, taking everything from her wardrobe and stealing her duvet and cushions and forcing her massive spiny chair into the tiny tiny bathroom. The BBQs in the garden and people sitting on the garage roof, the little notes we left around the house, one of which I don't think Apples ever found, moving my bedroom round because I got damp down the back of my bed, Kate's room flooding and having everything in the hallway, Shack Attack 2, which didn't even involve Shack, just the four of us dressed in hoddies with war paint on our cheeks. The millions of times Jake and Maria have slept over, writing essays in the living room with Boodge, Maria and Blow, "The one where the Blows were up all night", my twenty first and a half where we tried to fit a million things beginning with the letter A in our tiny bungalow, pre-drinks for the Summer Ball and the photo of all the girls in the kitchen "Where they belong" and so many more...

Fair to say there are a lot of memories to pack up and take with me.

Of course amongst all of these happy times there are some truly awful times I will always remember taking place in this empty room I am sitting in now, but for this post they are things I will not list.

I am still getting over the shock at realising how much I am going to miss the third years I said goodbye to last night, at the moment I discovered I was always one of the family, even if it is weird uncle Al, and still recovering a little from getting in at about 5am after watching the sun rise and chasing my 'magnet' across the field.

Saying goodbye this year has been so different to last year. I remember sitting in Becca's room a year ago writing my first ever blog and crying while she packed up the room which had been my home for the last five months, I remember the BBQ outside the back of halls like it was yesterday and how I literally cried the entire drive home, and I remember realising that the majority of people I was crying over not seeing for three months actually ended up visiting over the summer anyway.

This end of year is a completely different experience, and while I will miss my friends over the next three months I also know that the time will pass quickly and to be honest, I'll probably end up seeing half of them before September anyway!

I'm still not ready to be a third year, and part of me is not ready to move out of The Bungabow. I feel quite lost knowing that this year is finally over, the last few months have gone so fast, and it is times like these that make me realise how short lived life really is.

A year ago I was crying that my first year was over, and that does in no way, shape or form feel like a year ago. Eight months ago I was cast as the lead in the Christmas panto, seven months ago I started dating the lead male, six months ago I found out I had been cheated on, five months ago I had exams postponed because of the amount of snow we had, four months ago I was starting the second semester of my second year, three months ago I was getting gossiped about in the library by people I thought were friends, two months ago I was looking forward to living in a house with my best friends and my boyfriend, a month ago I was petrified to live with my ex, and now I am scared to move out of my tiny little girls bungalow in a massive ten bedroom house full of messy smelly boys. So much has happened, so much has changed, so much I had already forgotten about until I thought about it, and I realise now that I waste too much of my life on things which in a years time I will not even remember.

I am going to make this summer as amazing as last years was. I am going to London again to perform with National Youth Theatre and to get trained by Complicity for three weeks, I am going to work my ass off in the pub and save money, I am going to visit my best friend at uni before she comes home for the summer, I am going to invade my friends house in Brighton and explore the gay capital of the UK, I am going to continue to learn the guitar and I am got to not regret a single thing!

Thank you to EVERYONE who has made this year it was. The ups and the downs, the tears and the frowns, the smiles and the laughter. Thank you to those who have bitched about me and thank you to those who have stuck up for me. Thank you to those who have lied to me and thank you to those who told me. Thank you to those who have made me feel as small as humanly possible and thank you to those who helped me grow back up to my true size and worth. Thank you for everything that has helped build me as a person and has helped make me who I am. If it wasn't for all the people who shit on you, you wouldn't appreciate the ones who don't. So thank you everyone :)

BTW, this has gone on for far longer than I expected it to when I started typing and I think I strayed off my original point, so sorry for the random flow of it all!!

Here's to you. Here's to me. Here's to all we have in store...

Sometimes, the last person you ever expected to, is the one person who makes you cry more than anyone else. Sometimes, when you least expect it, you find out you had a secret friend you never knew you had. Sometimes, when the time is finally right, you let go of the past and make peace with it and the people involved.

Tonight had a lot of that.

To find out someone who you have admired for a long time has secretly been following you, that that person knew all along that you are "fragile", and that they were wishing you well the whole time but only just found the moment to tell you that, is such an overwhelming feeling, I can't even begin to put it in to words. All I can say, from the bottom of my heart is

Thank You

I think I spoke enough when I said how much people have noticed everything you do, and I think my tears said it all when I honestly, truthfully told you how much I'd miss you, and I will honestly never forget the advice you gave me, even if right now, as true and as perfect it may be, it still isn't time.

But please know, that because of you I managed to make peace.

To finally find the words and the courage to say "I forgive you" is a strong moment. When you finally, eventually, feel that weight lift off your shoulders when you tell that person that you are finally ready to live and let live everything that they ever did and said that was wrong to you and so many other people, is such a relief. I am just so glad it was now.

Where other things are concerned I am not ready to let go. I am not ready to stop believing, to stop fighting. I hurt, everyday, but as you said, I am 'fragile' and you will honestly never know how much it meant to hear someone who I never thought would ever even know, say those words.

Tonight you have given me so much more than you will ever know. You have given me a friendship I never knew existed in such depth, the courage to forget, and the strength, drive and belief to carry on in a society I have never until tonight felt a part of.

It wasn't until the tears fell that I realised that I was part of the family I have been striving to be a part of for so long. It wasn't until the tears were shed that I realised I had been home all along. It wasn't until the goodbyes were said that I realised just how much I'd miss you all.

Thank you xxxx

Give a stranger an unexpected smile

Once I met a stranger,
I didn't know his name
He asked me for my number,
So we played the guessing game
I gave him a few to start with,
But made him guess the rest
The stranger, he now texts me
Morning, noon and night

I've started talking to strangers, it seems to be my new thing. Last week I had a Chinese delivered to University while I was at rehearsals for Zombie Prom. I sent someone to collect it for me as I was busy. Afterwards the delivery guy text my phone, confused as to why he had my number and who I was. I decided to keep texting him as I thought it would be funny. Five days on and we are still texting. I still have no idea what this person looks like.

Thursday night I went to Velvet with some customers from the pub. I serve them every week and only learnt their names this week, which I instantly forgot. There were about ten of them, and the furthest any of our relationships had gone was me topping up their alcohol levels every week before going to Velvet. I had a really good night with them and from speaking to them ended up talking to even more strangers when we got to Velvet. I still can't remember most of their names!

Last night I went to the last karaoke at the SU. I ended up sitting on a strangers lap while giving him verbal and (tame) physical abuse. He bought me and my friends a drink each and kept us all amused with his drunk attempts at getting my number. I stole his phone for a while and drank most of his pint. I gave him ten digits of my number and made him guess the last one. We have been texting this morning.

I quite enjoy talking to strangers, and I know my mother always told me not to when I was younger but I feel maybe it's time to start ignoring her now and seeing what happens when you say hello to a randomer!

I miss so much when I'm sleeping so I think I'll stay awake

I seem to find my life a lot more interesting when I don't sleep. These last few weeks have been most bizarre, especially from a textual point of view.

I think I may stay awake more often :)

The Fear

I have an assignment in in two and a half hours and I have written the tittle. Worse still, it is a title I will probably end up changing. It is my last assignment of the year and it is the one that plans out the big old dissertation for next year, and still the fear has not hit.

Instead I sit in my house mates bed, because there is a big spider in my room, listening to music, looking at drama related jobs on the internet and Facebooking people about the essays they too are yet to finish.

I really wish the fear would set in and make me finish this essay, but instead I'd rather have a little nap..

This keeps me strong when I feel weak

Fearless is not the absence of fear. Fearless is having fears, fearless is having doubts. Lots of them. Fearless is living in spite of those things that scare you to death. Fearless is falling madly in love, even though you've been hurt before. Fearless is getting back up and fighting for what you want over and over again...even though every time you've tried before, you've lost. Its fearless to have faith that someday things will change. Fearless is having the courage to say goodbye to someone who only hurts you, even when you can't breathe without them. It's fearless to fall for your best friend, even though he's in love with someone else. And when someone apologises to you enough times for things they'll never stop doing, its fearless to stop believing them. It's fearless to say "you're NOT sorry", and walk away. Loving someone despite what people think is fearless. Allowing yourself to cry on the bathroom floor is fearless. Letting go is fearless. Then, moving on and being alright... That's fearless too. But no matter what love throws at you, you have to believe in it. You have to believe in love stories and Prince Charming's and happily ever afters.
I think love is fearless.

I don't know if I'm ready for this

Reality. It's a scary old thing. Realising that something you've known has been coming for a long time, but never really acknowledged just how short a time you have until that moment, is finally here. It's a scary, emotional, lonely roller coaster to be riding. And part of me wonders if I'm ready.

I have ten days. Ten days until my room will be represented by a pile of boxes and an empty bed. Ten days until I move my belongings to a different room, waiting to be hauled across the road to my new home, ten days until my house mates become friends, ten days until I look around searching for the photos of my friends plastered across my walls, ten days until I can stare at blank walls, remembering the comforting faces that used to live there.

I don't think I'm ready for this.

I don't think I'm ready to move out of my first home away from home. I don't think I'm ready to pack up my room, my belongings, my life of the last year. I don't think I'm ready to say goodbye to my house mates. I don't think I am ready to be done in my second year of uni.

I don't think I am ready to be a third year. I don't think I am ready to begin my journey to the end of my educational life. I don't think I am ready to live with "the boy" when I still have so far to go until I am over him. I don't think I am ready, even though I have to be.

I have known this moment was coming, I have been waiting for it, wishing it here for months, and it is only now that I realise that while I have been wishing for this moment to arrive, I have been wishing all the moments of the past few months away.

I have been living for a future I am now petrified to welcome.

Part of me knows moving out will be a good thing. I will finally be able to let go of a lot of my past that haunts me. All of the memories that my room tell me each night will be gone and packed away. I will not have to live in the room where so many hearts have fallen in and out of love. I will not have to be reminded day after day of the people who used to fill this room with me, who made it feel whole and complete and who then left and never returned.

But while I will finally be able to walk away from those memories, I will also be leaving behind the good ones. I will never again get to look at the "We know what you look like... NAKED" sign on the shower room door, or hear the feet of people on the gravel as they make their way to or from the front door. I will never get to just walk into Kate's room when she isn't here and steal her things, or hide 'the sock' in her room and await the glorious scream when she finds it. I will never get to sit in the kitchen talking for hours when there is a perfectly good sofa in the next room, or sit on the sofa all night writing essays and getting high off tea and coffee. I will never be able to write on the board about the latest thought to enter my head when I walk past it, or help Blow with her make up when she puts way too much on the one eye.

I will never experience the power of the Bungalow Ghost again or get to sing "Come knock on our door, we've been waiting for you."

I cannot wait to live in 61, to spend my final year of uni living with eight boys and one girl. I cannot wait to slide down the stairs on mattresses and have huge house parties in a house where there is actually room for everyone to fit. I cannot wait for space to not be an issue. But I will miss the bungalow and all the memories it has bought me, no matter how good or bad they may have been.

I will miss The Bungabow.