I'm approaching a point where everything's going to go away and I have no say in it. What's worse, is that I'm meant to be celebrating this, even though I don't know a single person who is in the same situation as me and feeling anything less than numbness. I think dread is the most common factor. And I also think that behind this numbness and dread is a panic and a fear about loss. The loss of freedom, the loss of friends, the loss of the bonds that it's taken literally years to weave and tighten. They're all going to be cut away.

It's something that, no matter what I'm doing physically, has been dominating my mentality for a while now. I'm sorry to say that, if you've been speaking to me over the course of the last week and a half or so, the words have been reflexes, instinctively filling in the silences between your sounds. At times I've literally had no idea what I was saying, purely because my mind was entirely devoted to considering what you mean to me. (I nearly used the past tense then; 'meant', and it felt like a jab to the ribs). I've walked out of pubs and clubs with people, laughing and smiling, and then as soon as I turned the corner away from them, tucked my chin to my chest, put my hands in my pockets and hurried home, where the distractions are, all the while babbling to myself, verbalising concepts and thoughts in an insane attempt to format and expel the mounting sense of grief I can see being inevitable in a few months time.

I got home today, and did something I do every so often. It's not a seizure because I incite it myself, and it's very much a more vivid rendition of the regular twitching and tweaking I do throughout the course of my waking hours, and probably even in my sleep (I wake up in strange distorted positions sometimes). It's hard to describe, but it jars and strains me, tension and release takes place. I climb furniture, I double up and shake violently, I stand tall and hurl myself around my room. It's always in my room, never around others. It's not the most elegant or mature of actions, I'm pretty sure.

It lets out the stress a little however, and as unorthodox as it may seem, I like doing it. It makes me stop thinking about the kind of things I mentioned above. All the same, I can't help but worry how utterly deranged I would look should anyone see. And more to the point, how right they might be.

I get the feeling that writing all this down won't do much to alleviate whats wrong here, and that I'll still be under this cloud for a few more days. I usually am, and it's fucking annoying because I always thought catharsis was meant to make you feel better.