My Mumbling Thoughts

I'm driving back home after a long day at work. It's raining and I listen to the annoying sound of the rubber from my crap wipers skip across my windshield. I knew I should have shelled out that extra twenty bucks for those other wipers. Bastard.

It's nice though, and I quickly sink into my blank mind zone where nothing exists.

Absolutely nothing.

No thoughts. I'm just there, in my car, driving and nothing else matters.

It's a pleasant place to escape to when the past couple of weeks have been infused with drama, money worries, lots of stress and poorly timed situations.

The Summer of Shit. That's what I like to call it.

I guess I should just spit it out then. It's hard for me to do that though, because even the mere thought alone causes my throat to tighten and make me feel so nauseous I'm quickly scanning the room for the nearest trash can for me to be ill in.

Well, here goes...

Momma decided that she didn't want to co-sign for me this year, leaving me without a loan, meaning that I may not go back to London for my second year of uni.

*pukes*

Just when I thought life couldn't get any worse, it does. Jon and Helen are arriving this coming Monday (which isn't the bad news, by the way), but since I'm poor, I have to work for part of the time they're visiting so I can try and save up a couple extra pennies for myself. Which means, I had to cut the New York trip for myself. Yeah, I'm not going.

Mel, Helen and Jon will still be going though, which is good. I didn't want them to not go because I have to be a poor lame-o and backed out. We're currently in the process of trying to find someone to take my place on the trip so it's not a complete and total loss, so if you know of anyone who's free from the 30th of August until the 4th of September and they want to go to New York for a bit, let me know. I can hook them up.

It's almost as if I've been put on pause though. I'm stuck and I just can't get past the fact that I may not go to London on September 12th.

What? Not go? No!

I haven't accepted that fact yet. And I know I won't until September 12th passes. I'll either be on the plane, or I won't. And if I'm not, then I suppose it really will be fact for me.

Until then, I've been busting my ass trying to come up with new, not-so-inventive ways to get money out of loan companies. They really don't like young folks like myself who have absolutely no credit. They do, however, like turning us young folks with no credit down. I've been denied quite a few times, and may just die of shock if someone does grant me my wish.

Momma isn't too bothered about me staying here though. No. It almost seems like she's doing it just to spite me. I also partially think that she only uses the excuse of me being a fuck up to cover up the fact that she just misses me and never wants me to leave home.

Mmmm....maybe not.

It's frustrating mostly. I don't understand her reasons and understand at the same time, which only frustrates me even more. I wish things weren't so hard. And I hate it when she says things like, "well that's life for you." I refuse to accept that. Life, to me, is what you make it, and it just so happens that I want to make mine in London. It's just proving to be a lot more difficult the second time around.

I tell her that I'm ready. I tell her that I want a second chance. I tell her that it isn't fair and that I want to prove to her (and myself) that I can do it properly this time. I won't mess up. I won't piss my money away. I just want to finish what I started and come this time, I'm going to do it right. I apologize over and over about fucking up, but we all make mistakes and I'm so ready to sort myself out. It won't be new to me like it was the first time. It won't be a shock to my system. I won't be so intimidated this time around. I'll be set up better and going in with a much better picture of life over there. I know people. I'm comfortable there. It's my home.

Mine.

Not our's.

Mine. London is where I stepped out on my own. Alone. Without her. Or Mel. Or anybody else.

Just me.

And I can't believe she'd want to take that from me. Or make it more difficult for me to go back there.

I'm scared about the next few days. Hell, the next few weeks. I don't know what's going to happen. I just know that I'm afraid and I want everything to just fall into place for me. I'm still hopeful. Barely, but still holding out for something. Anything.

Because I can't think of what may happen if I don't go. I can't think about that now.