February 20th: The writer is her reader's character.

I start writing this post topic-less, title-less and bored, so I doubt anything good will come of it but like I said, I'm bored. I'm procrastinating. I've never wished half term away before but as far as I'm concerned, Thursday can't come soon enough. And I'm well aware that by posting something new the day after my last post, a lot of you won't have read the aforementioned previous update and therefore will be a little confused as to why Thursday can't come soon enough.

So my suggestion is: tear your eyes away from my writing, - I know it's hard, I'm brilliant like that (not) - scroll down, and enlighten yourselves about the exciting Thursday (and indeed Friday, Saturday and Sunday) I've got planned.

Go on, I can see you still reading. Naughty.

Or, if you can't be bothered, you can just stay here and read whatever crap I'm about to spout. See, I've got this feeling, and I don't know what it is, and right now, making a playlist of 'writing music' so I can update my blog about a miscellaneous, undefined feeling which I may or may not have seems more important than redrafting my history coursework so I can get a good grade in history and consequently get into university.

So. Writing. Writing, writing, writing. I wonder what it is about knowing that people are reading that makes us adapt what we say and what we write and how we act... it's almost like we're ashamed to let people see our true selves, our talents. There are things I've written which nobody will ever see and they're all so much better than this crap I put out on the internet for any old random person to stumble across. And why? Why shouldn't I want my very best things out there? Why should I fear people seeing what I can do? When I put things on YouTube I know it's because I'm not that great a singer and maybe I'm scared of a negative reaction, but why would anybody react badly to my writing? Not because it's brilliant, but simply because it's writing; there is no reason for anybody to hate it. When you hate a song, you either dislike the melody or the voice - when you're reading, unless the writing is really terrible, you only notice the subject. That's the thing about good writing: they say it should be unnoticeable, so that all you can identify with is the character's emotion and story. Obviously with blogs it's different, because what you're reading here is my voice. I am not telling you fiction - most of the time I'm not even telling you non-fiction. I'm telling you feelings. I'm telling you thoughts. I try to write as honestly as I can here so that reading it is like being inside my brain, but still I'm aware that my every word will be digested. So, without meaning to be, I'm a character. I'm your character. You see me as you wish to see me; you see me as I choose to portray myself. You're only ever getting my side of my story, no matter how honest I try to be. Getting into university is hard, but I don't work as hard as I should. Freddie is more talented than I am, but he tries more things. And I know I'm not bad at everything. I have talents just like everybody else does, but somehow this blog always catches me on my bad days - probably because on my good days I never feel like I have any reason to write. People are sympathetic to and interested by other people's woes, but bored by their happiness. But I'm not writing for an audience here... right? I started out writing for myself, and myself only, but I'm not writing merely for myself anymore.

I can't imagine why anybody else should find my 'story' - if you can call drifting along like I am a 'story' - interesting - I don't. But so many people have said school days are the best days of your life and if that's true, I want to remember them.

They were wrong, anyway. School sucked. College has been great, or at least it would have been if I hadn't got some kind of anxiety disorder last January. And yes, I'm aware that's the first time I've admitted as much here on the blog but I used to hate saying it. Now I don't mind it so much... so many people know that I figure you all might as well know too. That 'code' I wrote about a few months ago was supposed to be helpful, because people wouldn't know what I meant when I said I was fine and they wouldn't make me explain. But now I've explained it, people know it, so I may as well just say what I mean. But actually I like it if people ask me if I'm okay because it shows they care, and that they know, and that they remember - and that's what true friendship is. You're supposed to know what's wrong with your friends. You're supposed to know when they need a hug and you're supposed to help. At least, that's how I try to act with my friends. I try to show them I know them, and I know not everybody works like that but there really is nothing like knowing that people care about you.

I'm not claiming in any way that my life so far has been that difficult, though of course I've had hard times, like everyone does. But I think that whatever awful thing you're going through really does make you stronger, massively cliched though it is. It gives you perspective, and it gives you compassion, and it gives you strength, empathy, sympathy. I would even go as far as to say that it gives you a deeper understanding of the world, because I used to look at people and wish I was them, wish I had their perfect lives. Now I can't look at anyone without wondering if they're as normal as they look, because I know I look normal and I'm not. I went through the worst stage probably late last summer and into winter, and now I hope I'm getting better, but it affects me worst of all in English lessons (I know. Of all the places, right?) and all I wanted to was to be able to sit there, bored, in a lesson. I couldn't allow myself to be bored, because I had to be alert all the time. I was scared of losing control of myself. And it's more than that, but to be bored is such a simple thing and I couldn't have it. I want what people don't even realize they have; normality. And it made me lose all interest in everything. My attendance was slipping because I was afraid of going to English incase I had a panic attack, I was afraid of exams for the same reason and revision didn't seem important because all I could think of was will I be okay in the exam? And I was embarrassed to tell anyone besides my friends so everyone thought I just couldn't be bothered to turn up to my lessons. People think anxiety is nothing - just nerves, perhaps, but they don't realize I'm not stressed. I don't feel the reason I have this. They don't know the way you're hyperaware of yourself and of everything you're feeling, they don't know the random pains you get, they don't know how you get scared of going to your favourite lessons days beforehand.

I know quite a few of my friends 'in real life' read this, and that I'll probably regret posting it at some point in the future, but right now I don't care. Maybe people should know, maybe then they would understand why I do some of the things I do. People tend to adapt; they find their own ways of dealing with things and yes, my methods of coping with this aren't always the most sensible thing to do but I'm doing my best. I'm getting there.

And now I'll stop my little rant. I guess all I really mean is that nobody's perfect. Nobody's normal. So even if you think they are, just stop and give them the benefit of the doubt sometimes.

Molly x