• he tells me that he's fine – and the sad thing is he's right so. i cheated on my boyfriend with the boy that i refuse to admit that i have feelings for because i know that is letting myself in for a world of pain. now, the ex, who is a lovely guy, won't speak to me (which i deserve). the guy i cheated with is being and arsehole and acting like it meant... like it meant jack shit to him. i don't believe that, not for a minute. but i have to act it, because to admit vulnerability? it's not really my style. i've changed and grown and shrunk and reverted so much in one year. i've morphed. everything is different. i feel like daisy buchanan. reckless. i am so bored and cynical and tired, tired all the time. and yet restless. when it comes down to it – whatever "it" is – i am spiraling ever downwards. and, you know, that kind of makes sense this year. because hell, the downward spiral? it has a lot of plusses. being drunk, pulling whoever, not giving a fuck – it's something i've never had the option of doing before. i've never been free before. it's always been work, work, work. all about the goal. now, there is no goal. and i guess i'm not really dealing too well with that fact. which is also in some ways the best way of dealing with it. get it all out while i'm free. before uni and study. again. i feel sick when i think about him. when i think about his body and his skin and mostly his eyes... his eyes. i do care, i know i do, somewhere deep down, but i'm not going to let myself think about it anymore. i can't let myself need him. he's never going to need me. he shakes his hair and blinks his pretty eyes, but trust me: he's no valentine

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