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Darkness that Shadows the light;

Divine wings of memory

5 March 1987
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I'm 24 years old. Currently living in Portsmouth and have JUST finished my BA(hons) degree in Media Studies. Have no idea what I want to do with my life right now, just looking for a job and hoping to take it from there!

I stared across the blankness that was my home and wished I was someone else, everything was just too familiar, I needed to be somewhere different somewhere exciting and strange- this seems less likely to happen everyday.

Lets face it this is my life; I have tried to change, to be different each time failing miserably. I needed something to make me individual from everyone else, so that I would be noticed- oh god to be noticed how weird it sounds saying it. I read all these books about mysterious girls with freewill to guide them in there journey to find out some important quest in order to help them grow into the woman they are about to become. I have tried to do this, have strange interests like tornados and disagree with what everyone says, have my own opinion and be free. Collect strange things in little jars so that I seem weird but very grown up in my own way, its really a load of rubbish I cant do that no matter how much I try and pretend to be in some far off distant place the reality of the world comes suddenly looming back at me and I am there again looking out into the garden or some stretch of earth that never turns or ends, just a straight unending road leading me to the place that I had begun.

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I wish I could close a book and pretend that what I said then as just a story a tale that has now been closed and placed onto a shelf never to be looked at again, but how untrue this is. I am stuck in a rut not knowing where I should be going or why I should be were I am, there are too many things missing from my life a lot of questions that will remain unanswered and shortly forgotten, I wish that life was like a film, a romantic comedy always ending with and they lived happily ever after. Just the same story over and over with the same happy ending. I feel like a young flower that has been withered by the bad weather around me, struggling to keep my head up near the sun feeling even less safe every time I stretch my neck. I wish I were a character in a book or in a cartoon or become an animal, anything other than my life. It is becoming such a practiced routine.