Sometimes I wonder if I make myself sick. I mean... Not intentionally or anything. But like... Sub-consciously. I mean... surely no one could ever possibly get sick as often as I do. Surely it's not even... Possible.

I mean, this is a virus. Today is a virus. But what about the rest of the time?

Do I stress so much that it makes me physically ill? Do I take too much on and wear myself down to the point where my body can do nothing but be sick?

I mean, I don't sleep... Much.

I work 10-15 hours most weeks just to keep myself alive and in a house.

I attempt to pass year twelve, but most of the time I'm just too exhausted and sick to even be able to think straight enough to do my work...

I mean... I'm on all A's and B's. I know I shouldn't be disappointed in my efforts and grades. But I am.

Annd this is what? My fourth Monday off all year? I push myself so hard to get through the week, then when normal people get a break of a weekend, I get to work, have pretty much no social life, no sleep, and attempt to find time to fit homework in between whatever my family has planned. So by the time Monday rolls around, I think I'm just that sick that... Coping, getting through a day of school just seems impossible. And so I convince myself, it's ok, we'll be working on this assignment that I've finished in Toursim, I have a free, Classics will be working on the essay, free, Justice we might get the new assignment... But we have til week seven on it so surely I can just see him about it tomorrow right? Besides, we'll probably just finish watching that video and it was really boring, and then do more worksheets... I won't miss that much...

But then it all builds up.

And then I slowly start to fall behind. And I mean, don't get me wrong. I get everything done. But I'm not going to deny that sometimes it's a bit of a scramble at the finishline.

But that's the thing.

Falling behind stresses me out... More than I already was. And then we start the entire cycle again.

The cycle of sickness, and tears, and missing him, and bubble baths to calm down. Of late nights and working all weekend and family events that make homework almost impossible until most Sunday nights. Of Mondays staring into a bucket/down a toilet bowl vomiting. Or in bed coughing up my lungs, freezing even though I'm wrapped in layers of clothes and blankets and quilts and scarves with a heater on full. Of Mondays when even just getting up is too hard, and the light is too harsh for me to bear, Mondays spent in the dark, in silence, because it is the only way to survive them.

I'm sick of Mondays.

When this year is over, I am going to be so happy. Screw TERs and getting into uni and getting good grades... I just want to make it through alive.

i'm 18 next year this year. Legally an adult. But surely thst can't be right. I'm just a child. We're all just kids...

It's not supposed to be this way. Not yet. Not for years. Not until we're old. Not til we're adults. Not til we're 18. Which is.... This year apparently... For me anyway.

I'm not ready to be ending high school. I'm not ready to choose the direction of my life. I'm not ready for uni preferences and TER scores and growing up.

I don't know what to do with my life. I don't know. And I can't keep saying 'i'll work it all out in year 12'. Cos guess what sunshine. This is year 12. Year 12 is now.

We can't wait for it. We can't go 'it's ages away'. We can't run from it. We can't hide. Because it's not ages away now. It's here. It's now.

This is the crucial year. This is the year I need to do well in my classes. This is the year I need to get good grades and ace exams and special studies. This is the year I need to decide what I want to study for the next four or so years. This is the year I fight for what I want in my life.

But first I need to work out what the hell it is I want.

Of all things, the only thing I'm sure of is that I want him.

And amazingly, by some miracle; I'm almost positive he wants me too. Forever.

Aside from that... I guess I'm just a mystery. I don't know who I am. I don't know what I want. I don't know where my life is going.

I can't shake this weird feeling I've got in the pit of my stomach that this year will be bad. Good. But bad. There will be happy moments. But... Something in me has this weird feeling that this year is going to be filled with despair. And suffering. And pain.

I hope to hell that this is just a feeling... That it will pass. And that everything will be fine. I think that by now we all deserve a bit of a break for the hardest year of our schooling. That being said, I don't feel like many other people are involved. I think this is about me.

But I don't know if I can take a hard year.

I don't know if I can fight through pain at the same time as keeping my grades up, achieving my goals.

You know. Maybe that's the reason behind my questions last night... Not that I'm saying one of us will die. Because that cannot happen. I will not let that happen.

But this year will mean something. Something will happen this year. Something to change things.

I don't know how I know this. I don't. I just know it. Something is going to happen this year.
-8 days-