It's probably pathetic but i...

It's probably pathetic but i feel a lot more comfortable writing in here ( livejournal that is.).. Vox is sweet and all that. But it seems everything is a whole load of more "professional" ( even though it really isn't... sometimes i think it's for every damn unemployed bored out writer there is out there. )
It's friday night, a little past 9, i've finished my fifth 18hr working day and i'm still awake. I don't feel like a mess at all. It's weird but i really don't. This is weird, considering that if i spend my holidays sleeping all day, drinking all night i feel a lot more awful than during the regular school days. A lot more depressed as well.
My days aren't hectic either, it's a tight schedule but i've fought myself through to the part of me that gets ease out of a random ice cream or some sunrays on the walk home after working the shift at the kindergarden. Stupid things. I like them though. I don't feel like i did more than i usualy do, maybe that is going to hit on in a bit. A week or so, overwhelming me, maybe my system is just trying to put up with all the stuff going on pushing away the tiredness and the need for some lovin'. It doesn't feel like it though and i'm kinda sure it's not that.
I'm just okay for once.
A weird weird feeling with me.
I'm out of money so bad it hurts. There's exactly 17 quid left on my bank account, tonight is Biancas birthday so there's a horrid amount of drinkage and partying to be done. I'm just finishing the things i made for her. There's still London i'm kinda paying for and i'm feeling like i need to help Oley out a bit aswell as soon as i can. Dunno how i'm going to go about that but oh well.
I've also been out all night this week doing atleast something. Monday was random pub, tuesday the movies, wednesday i drove over to my grams and had a lovely chat with her, last night Bianca and I went for a random club night ( which sucked baaaalls without liquor you shouldn't partey. )... I'm keeping up. With life. Even though i got up every day at 7 this week. I keep up and do what should happen. Not exactly what i need to do but what my stomache tells me should be done.
It's been a weirdly smooth transition.. The past year or two i've struggled a lot with slipping out of my old self. I remember writing in here how i don't know if i wanna be this new person. And

 told me that's the struggle with it all. I still remember that.
Now this transition feels kinda over. Maybe not over.. i know i'll always keep my self-harming behaviour, my rubbish leopard hoodie, might even hang onto the fucked up make-up, who knows. I'll always need it. Crave it. Long for weeks out on the street, not knowing where i'm heading. In the sense of not knowing where my body will be taken the next day. Because i still don't know where things are heading. I do know where my body is going to go tomorrow. But i don't know where i am heading to. I never knew. Doubt i ever will.
It's cool now though, i know that my body will at least be somewhere. Some random ass place probably somewhere on a farm in Texas hehe but it'll be somewhere. And maybe i'll just follow there and see what happens.