kelzadiddle: (English is a Mugger)
Can it really be that the last days of summer are upon us? Outside, it's overcast and raining, and sitting in my room, I actually feel cold. My feet are freezing. In twenty days, it'll be September. Autumn's just around the corner.

This time last year, I had a pretty good idea of what I'd e doing in the upcoming September. I'd be going back to Sixth Form, regardless of grades; I just didn't know whether I'd be moving on to A2s or resitting it all. This year, I don't even know if i'll be returning to Sixth Form; if I'll even be allowed to, whether I fail or not. I could be in a different college - not that fresh starts are entirely new to me. Or I could be gap yearring, with the grades I need, raising a bit of cash for uni. Maybe I'll even have been abducted by aliens by then. I simply don't know.

Not knowing what lies ahead is scary. It's like having to walk around a blind corner on the street, only you know that on the other side you'll find either a slap in the face, an axe murderer or a piece of delicious cake. Or even alien abduction. But you can't turn around; the only way is forward. You can only go on and hope it's the cake, because cake is better than being slapped, murdered and abducted.

I had a good night's writing last night, though Dad would probably disagree - I woke him up by moving my chair. This is precisely why I need a carpet, Dad! Chairs don't scrape noisily on carpet! They do on wood! And with a bookshelf to keep anything non-essential out of the way, I'd make less noise tidying up before bed.

Ergh. Rain, rain, sod the hell off or I'll smash your face in. Seriously. You annoy me. I want the sun!


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