Why is it, when my mind is in complete and utter turmoil and I�m begging myself to find a way to work things out, a way to release these feelings, I can never write my thoughts down?

If there was ever such a time to take advantage of the therapeutic nature of expelling my problems through words, you�d think it would be then. But, for some unfathomable reason, it just doesn�t work like that. It doesn�t work like it ought to.

But my head is a little clearer now, so I can get it all out and maybe make some sense of it.

I feel�I feel a lot of things right now. Scared. Confused. Angry. Ashamed. Sad. Lonely. Frustrated�.yet unfailingly optimistic. I never did quite understand how no matter what life threw at me, there was always this little voice whispering in my ear, letting me know that things would be okay.

Is that what makes people think I�m strong? Is that why people think I can handle anything? Is that why even I think I can take whatever you�ve got to throw at me and keep walking?

Let�s start with being scared. I�m scared because I feel like I�ve been focusing on all the wrong things � worrying about how I�m going to make friends, pass my classes and have a productive and happy three years.

I should know by now that friends come and go; it�s a sad but true fact in my life. And a huge part of me recognises that I�m difficult, that it�s no easy task getting close to me when I�m determined to deter you. And I�m judgemental and self-righteous�.which pretty much makes me the most irritating person to have around when you�ve done something wrong.

Then there�s the hypocritical aspect � I do things wrong all the time � I�ve done some awful and stupid things in the past, and when you find out about them you either won�t believe me or you�ll get upset that I had the nerve to comment about your indiscretions.

No�.It�s not easy being my friend, and it�s not easy for me to be yours. To ignore my instincts when they tell me you�re just not cut out to be around me � that I�m going to end up hurting you, or you�re going to disappoint me and eventually hurt me. My intuition is usually spot on and the older i get, the more I rely on it.

But I have a good heart and I�m loyal to the core. You think I�m all light and goodness when we first meet and you realise I�m always there to help if you want. That I�m up for doing most things and I have a mischievous streak a mile wide to make up for my unerring practicality. I�m sarcastic and funny when I want to be, and I manage to worm my way out of the worst situations. I make you feel comfortable because I�m always trying�.trying to be a better friend, a better person. I�m chatty and sweet and all butter wouldn�t melt�until it does. Because despite what you�ll say to me later, I think about other people�s happiness more than I want to.

Then you find out I�m smart, and the geek comments start, and you realise I�d probably be willing to help you out with your work. Especially as I love reading and writing � it�s no skin off my back, so I do it. I�m good at helping with most things and you�ll love that about me. You learn I�m adventurous at heart and my wander lust will probably lead me far and wide before I settle down � that makes me exciting.

I always buy you a coffee when I get one for myself and I hate taking money from you. I bake you things and buy little presents �cause I get a sense of achievement when I�ve brought a smile to your face. I�ll share my lunch and I�ll share my possessions and I�ll hug you close if you need me to. Then if anyone dares try to hurt you, I�ll stand up for you with everything I�ve got.

I seem like a good person, a good friend to have. Then you start to learn about my past � little snippets that get lost in our many conversations � maybe you�ll hear something that makes you laugh, makes you cry or makes you think you�re a kindred spirit. Maybe you�ll begin to feel you understand me a bit better�you can relate to me.

And then I screw up. You realise I�m opinionated and I have no filter � and a temper to rival that of the ancient gods. That warmth you swore I had deep down to my core is suddenly ice cold and lethal. I say or do something and I make it clear I can live without you. I make you feel pretty irrelevant and when you get offended and say something that hits the spot, a spot you probably thought I didn�t have � I burn you. I stack the firewood all around you and I literally strike the match and watch it fall. To punish myself, I�ll watch you burn and I�ll take it into my heart that you won�t forgive me for the scars. I won�t forgive myself either, but what�s one more strike against me when, if there is a hell, I�m destined for it anyway?

I make friends easily enough�keeping them; well, I�ll let you know when I feel like I�ve actually done such a thing. Twenty four years old and with only one friend I�ve managed to keep for ten years. The rest of you will probably be gone in another few, isn�t that just the way it is?

My three years at Uni will be productive and I�ll be happy because of it � I have no doubt about that. I�ll finish them and I�ll feel accomplished. I�m not the same person I was when I left school � I�m determined to better myself, and I will.

My classes might make me struggle sometimes and question myself, but I�ve faced harder and scarier things � I can do this. I always underestimate my intelligence and think I�m going to fall short of the mark � I�m trying not to do that anymore.

No, what�s scary is that I don�t think I�ll ever stop being a difficult person. I�ll push and pull at you like the moon on the tide and you�ll either love me or hate me. But you won�t want to always be around me, you won�t want to build a life with me at the core.

I�ll frustrate you and bait you and you�ll rue the day I ever charmed you with a cute giggle and smile and the offer of a homemade cupcake. I�m the kind of person your parents warned you about�I�m the candy from the stranger. It�s not going to end well, for either of us.

The confusion�well, that�s a permanent side effect of having such a mutable mind. Of constantly overthinking things and realising the options are too many and the decisions too hard.

The anger�well, sometimes that feels like a constant companion. If I�m not angry at someone else, I�m angry at myself. If it�s not myself, then it�s the injustice of it all. No, anger is a part of life I think � especially if you want to be the sort of person who doesn�t take things lightly. The sort of person who puts her foot down and stops the trampling hoard with a swift kick in the nether regions. Anger doesn�t bother me so much anymore.

That white hot rage I get when I want to scream and scream and tear anything in my path � that soothes me. I know myself when I get that way � I�m no stranger to an angry me.

Right now I�m angry at my brother and I�m angry at myself. I�m angry that I�ve let myself become a pseudo-surrogate parent for him, so that our relationship is not a strictly sibling one and is instead a muddle between parent and child, and two close siblings. I�m angry that when we argue I take more offense than a sister should � that I feel a pang in my chest like a parent whose child has just said they hate them.

I�m angry that teenagers go through phases where they hate the world and they rebel against those closest to them. I�m angry that my brother is taking everything out on me, that I�m the ties that bind and he is ruthlessly trying to sever them all. I�m angry that he blames me for my mother not being around and is acting out in every conceivable way, because I�m the closest available adult and I�m ripe for pissing off. I�m angry that I feel like a parent with the weight of the world on my shoulders, when in fact I am no such thing.

I�m angry that I can�t be less offended and less upset about it all � that I can�t listen to my head when it�s telling me he�ll be sorry for it all when he gets through this phase and he doesn�t even mean any of it anyway. I�m angry that I�m put in this position where I feel like it�s my responsibility, and at the same time I can�t wait to get away. I�m angry at lousy fathers who never bear the brunt of their decisions and I�m angry this is happening now when I�m getting on so well with my mother.

Mostly, I�m angry that life is never simple. That I�m an emotional wreck and I really shouldn�t be this way. I�m angry that it�s taking this level of antagonism for me to find a way to let go � to be the sister, and just the sister and set aside any hurt I might be feeling.

This is all for the best � it doesn�t matter that it hurts. Mum is being a Mum again, and my brother knows that. It�s why I have to stop.

Being ashamed�now that�s a problem. I�m not that person whose ashamed of who they are anymore � I�m not na�ve about my faults and I�m not inclined to forget my mistakes. That�s why I try so hard not to make them anymore�but life isn�t fool proof is it?

Sometimes, when I think I�ve done the best thing, have I really done anything good at all?

I feel like this huge over-bearing personality that nobody quite knows how to cope with. How the hell did I get this way? How can i make it stop when I don�t think it�s possible?

People change � they adapt and they grow. But they don�t suddenly wake up one morning with a personality transplant that knocks off all the rough edges and smoothens out all the scar tissue. The things that happened to make me who I am won�t disappear; so I guess what I�m trying to convince myself is thus�.why fight it?

Why let myself be saddened by the things I have no control over? Why strive to be something I won�t ever be comfortable being? Just�why bother?

I know myself, and if there�s something I want to do then I�ll find a way to do it�but will I be happy if it�s not who I really am?

Hence the sadness and the frustration. I�m sad that I don�t know how to be this big social butterfly with a ton of really good friends. This person that dates and thinks nothing of it, who speaks up in front of a crowd and doesn�t get nervous and want to stow away with a book.

That�s just never going to be who I am. Some days I just don�t want to speak to people, I want my books and a shit ton of peace and quiet. I don�t want to be drunk every week, it�s just lost its novelty for me, and I don�t want to wear really high heels and slather my face with makeup before I leave the house. I don�t want to try to fit in.

I get scared when I�m asked to speak up in front of a crowd and I�ll bluster my way through it because it�s got to be done. I sit in silence sometimes when you�d rather I spoke because it makes me happy. I don�t join in with the riff raff and make a huge fool out of myself, because it�s just so unimportant to me.

I don�t make lasting friends easily because being one dimensional was never on my CV and I know I�m frickin� hard work. I don�t know how to date casually anymore, I�ve lost touch with the part of myself that did that. I just�I�m not really normal and it takes someone really special to want to stick around.

I accept all this, even if it makes me lonely. I accept it because this is what it is�because somewhere out there are some really special people that don�t care if I�m a jackass 30% of the time�the other 70% is worth it to them.

I don�t know where my home is, and I don�t know where my heart is. But I�ll find them in the end, and I�ll learn a lot whilst doing it. I�m a drifter, and I�m intense and those burning wandering lights within me refuse to be extinguished.

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