"Everything turns into awkward turtle."

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to survive without caffeine. If maybe the agonies I had to spend during the four years without it was a blip, and maybe it won't really be like that. But then I spend more than a day without it and my brain gets wired, feels like my thoughts are on an express train that just won't stop. And then I drink enough caffeine (four shots of espresso topped off with hot water, cans of Red Bull, half a box of chocolate covered coffee beans, cup of coffee) and suddenly I'm Zen. It's like bullet time; my thoughts slow down so I don't feel like my brain is always racing to catch up, doubling back to understand what's going on in my head. It feels so good when everything quietens down, I can sit still, and the world feels peaceful.

Rachel can't be right about why, surely. It makes sense, but it's yet another label that I can do without.

A veil of what-has-beens.

I am currently plotting something which is simultaneously exciting, diabolical and terrifying.

There are few things more frightening than being spontaneous when you're the kind of person who never stops second guessing themself.

"You're the one that does the nude Hohos!!"

Having problems with impulse control causes problems when it comes to money. I'm aware of this, but I just bought what are possibly the best shoes ever.



Wearing them on the rainy, muddy streets of Manchester first time out was perhaps not the best idea, but I felt a kind of childish excitement in buying these, skipping down the street watching my feet.

Sometimes shoe-buying good for the soul.

By guess and God and hope and hopelessness.

It's funny how families work; how the person you were least close to growing up ends up being, in a perverse, messed up way, the person you're closest to. It's amazing what adulthood and distance does to relationships.

Almost regretting invitations given in haste, but the things we do to make others happy should never cause regrets, even though they often do.

My pulse still feels sluggish, as if it's pumping stale alcohol to the surface of my skin to be sweated out. This would not surprise me. Every time, I'm left wishing that I was in possession of a modicom of impulse control. Aching, exhausted, and feeling like hell, but the memories are good, and you only live this lifetime once.

I wish the air was cooler. I feel as though I'm baking in my own skin, expecting to be extra crispy any day now. Part of me can't wait for winter, even though I love the summer. Yesterday felt like July; clear blue skies, brightbrightbrightness, butterflies chasing each other (in honest idiocy of flight). There was a sweetness to the day, memories of being young and lying in a hammock slung between trees as my dog ran around crazily, before coming to lie in the shade, panting at the heat. I miss her.

I wish I could cool myself down just by pressing a button on my arm. That would be awesome.