The problem of a blog is updating it. This is a dilemma for me.
On one pale hand, I am lazy and have nothing of value to type, nothing that has any kind of merit at least. On the other pale hand, I've recieved compliaments on this here blog (Which has made my clogged up heart sing, dance and party like it's 1989) and I don't want to become boring by having the same 3 posts up for all eternity, burning into the eyes of individuals who will never, ever get the time they spend reading my inane ramblings back.
I may have a job. Or, an interview, at least. This is scary. This why I refuse to have a bank account. I keep putting it off, in hope I will not have employment and venture out into the inexplicably big, petrifying and cruel bad world. I've always felt older than my years, but when it comes to direct responsibility, like working. My God. The fear. The crippling fear. It freezes every ounce of independence I have scraped together and shatters instantly. I flee into the arms of any form of human willing to dish out sympathy and help fuel my selfishness, then go onto complain that I am skint.
I thought I had grown, and flourished and I was a mature, hardworking individual. Where as in reality I am a mere bum, out of her depth and scared out of her wits.
It kind of feels good.