I ought to be revising for yet another mock exam which is going to prove that I’m not half as clever as I need to be to measure up to my lofty ambitions but instead I will bore you all with the reasons I’m too happy to care. I find myself increasingly “p-paralyzed with happiness”- on Saturday nights with my new found ability to walk in heels crippled by 6inch wedges and feet clinging to sticky dancefloors and a perma-grin on my face; waking up at 2am to notifications of the “hungry horse” game and a happiness so euphoric I can’t sleep; running past the college with a stitch in my side at 10pm on the way to “the pub” (local friends!!! salvation!!!) and debates about women’s hour and boys and £1.96 glittery dresses and “prinking” to destiny’s child and investment conferences via facebook chat and growing hair and one-liners and the ongoing excitement/ lust for life that makes me want to scream “LOVIN’ LIFE” not just when inebriated. “Everyone envies everyone else.” and isn’t that just it! I’m inching towards contentedness just as time slides away (“How deary-swift with naught to travel to is time?”) and every day I empathize more and more with depressed thanatophobes because there will simply never be enough seconds, minutes or hours. I’m so frustrated with my complete photographic ineptitude. I want tangible evidence and memories I can touch and feel and hold and not just snapshots behind eyelids of perfect jaw-lines or tequila shots or 8-in-a-car journeys. “I CANNOT BITE THE DAY TO THE CORE.”

I ought to be revising for yet another mock exam which is going to prove that I’m not half as clever as I need to be to measure up to my lofty ambitions but instead I will bore you all with the reasons I’m too happy to care. I find myself increasingly “p-paralyzed with happiness”- on Saturday nights with my new found ability to walk in heels crippled by 6inch wedges and feet clinging to sticky dancefloors and a perma-grin on my face; waking up at 2am to notifications of the “hungry horse” game and a happiness so euphoric I can’t sleep; running past the college with a stitch in my side at 10pm on the way to “the pub” (local friends!!! salvation!!!) and debates about women’s hour and boys and £1.96 glittery dresses and “prinking” to destiny’s child and investment conferences via facebook chat and growing hair and one-liners and the ongoing excitement/ lust for life that makes me want to scream “LOVIN’ LIFE” not just when inebriated.

“Everyone envies everyone else.” and isn’t that just it! I’m inching towards contentedness just as time slides away (“How deary-swift with naught to travel to is time?”) and every day I empathize more and more with depressed thanatophobes because there will simply never be enough seconds, minutes or hours. I’m so frustrated with my complete photographic ineptitude. I want tangible evidence and memories I can touch and feel and hold and not just snapshots behind eyelids of perfect jaw-lines or tequila shots or 8-in-a-car journeys.

“I CANNOT BITE THE DAY TO THE CORE.”