What a difference a day makes.

Tomorrow will change everything again, I am anxious, but by no means as much as I thought, for today, I, and the rest of the world, witnessed the most incredible of fairy tales. Two people, declaring their love to the world, in the most exquisite way. So I dedicate this, not to myself for lasting six weeks with a messed up head and no way to clear it, but to William and Kate, and to their long and happy lives together. I am very proud to be British today, I am very blessed to be born and raised in such a historic, traditional and all-round charming country. God save the Queen.

Stay with me.

I think over the past month and a half I have been brutally undecided. I want him, but not really all of him, I don't want a boyfriend, I couldn't, I move so soon it's starting to feel real. It has been almost 6 weeks since I last saw him, almost 5 since I spoke to him, until Sunday, when in my drunken haze I text him saying 'I am definitely ready for you to come back.' his reply, 'I am on my way....x'

I adore the cheekiness of him, always the charm that gets me. I've missed so much about him, but mostly I have missed the happiness of being around him. My friends are asking me if I am excited to kiss him, to cuddle him, to sleep with him eventually. To be honest, I don't want any of those things, I can't remember what it is like to kiss him, not because it has been so long, but because it is irrelevant. I genuinely just want to see him. No words, even though I have missed that voice. I just want to be around him, feel his eyes on me when I'm dancing with my friends, feel his smile as he sees me getting chatted up at the bar and I'm declining. I am so intrigued about how I'll feel when I see him, calm, like I normally am? Excited, because let's face it, it has been so long and it is quite exciting? Nervous, in case his reaction isn't what I'm expecting? Disappointed, because I've built up this whole thing and seeing him will just make me realise what a lost cause this all is?

I'm trying to get the girls to come out on Saturday as I know he is back at work then and I'll definitely see him, but it is a bank holiday weekend, and we always do a Sunday. If we do the Sunday I know I will be on edge all night as I know he'll be out and I don't want to bump into him, I need to psyche myself up for this. I won't be able to play it how I want if you introduce the element of surprise. They all laugh at me, they know what an absolute pantomime this is, how big of a game we are both playing. It is an insult to my intelligence. I know he is probably fucking numerous girls, I know people listening or reading this will probably think why do it to yourself? I haven't got an answer, other than I am thriving off the chase. But I know it goes deeper, he can fuck who he likes, because I know we have something that goes so far beyond that that we haven't even gone there. So far in fact that we have sat in his house and weighed up the pro's and con's of sleeping together, and actually decided not to put ourselves through the after math. Although, to be honest, I am considering it more and more each day. I need to know if this is just serious lust or, dare I say it, love. I don't know if it is worth the risk.

In an ideal world, I would walk in there on Saturday, see him, feel nothing but happiness for seeing a friend. That would be good, that would be painless.

Always on it.

I had such a wonderful day yesterday. All of my friends are home from university for Easter and it's really the first time that we've all been out together in months. We went out 3 'til 3. A 12 hour Easter session, starting at the local pub, then into town. I adore my friends, they are all so special to me in their own way and I know how lucky I am. We have all had long friendships and have been through so much together that sometimes I forget that we are only 19. I don't know how I would have survived recently without them there, dancing with me, drinking with me, laughing with me, crying with me...just generally being with me. I know that the next few months are going to be rough, for a million different reasons, good and bad, but I know that they'll be there to laugh about it all with.

I'll leave you with this little anecdote that I think sums up our lives perfectly...

My good friend Kerry often gets so drunk she barely knows her own name. She doesn't lose control of her limbs, simply her mind. It gets to about 1am this morning and I am having a drink in SJ's after hours, my friend Sam manages to get in as well, she is dragging kerry by the arm and shouts to me "Courtney, I can't deal with her, you're gonna have to take her."

Kerry sits at the other end of the room sulking. The manager of SJ's, Lynne, takes one look at her and says "Out." I'm surprised, Lynne always allows any one of us to stay after, I wonder why she's turned on Kerry. Kerry sits there looking at her, being a dick and refusing to leave, Lynne turns to me and tells me that she had previously kicked Kerry out of the bar for fighting in the toilet. (This in itself is hilarious, Kerry has been in one fight in her life, again, very drunk. She was hit twice at an outside festival, after which she turned to the surrounding crowd, laughing, and said "Have I just been hit?") I drag Kerry out of the bar, embarrassed. I spend so much time there, they are amazing with me, half price drinks and I am always there after hours. I love them to bits. We get in a taxi, Kerry is screaming for the cab to stop a couple of miles from home, the taxi driver is flustered, I am telling him to ignore her. I pay for the taxi and have to explain the exact place she lives as Kerry is now saying "I'm not telling him where I live!".

This morning I wake up and call her. She has no recollection of anything, she came home with no shoes on and no bag. But she did have one thing, a Facebook message off a man saying this...

"Hello, you probably don't remember me, but last night you stole my burger so I stole your phone. If you want it back, you have to give me £3."

Part two.

Eleven days, the name of this blog and ironically the amount of time I have left before he comes home. I haven't wrote in a while, probably because my head has been in too much of a mess, moments of clarity followed by days of confusion. I haven't spoken to him since the day after he left, the morning I had to text to apologise for my behaviour the night before. I was out with friends, ended up with my brothers good friend, Richard, who over the years has became like family, and more recently like a best friend to me. We talk, very drunk, about everything in our lives. He tells me all about the woman who he is in love with, who is engaged to another man, but who vows to end it soon so that they can be together. I don't know what I tell him, because I sure as hell can't tell him about this. Yet on this particular Saturday, over our standard treble vodka and Red Bull he turns to me and asks "Who's hand are you holding these days then?" "No-one" I answer I can't tell Richard about him, they are all ex-collegues, friends, interlinked - I would not put him in the position of having to keep something from my brother. "What's going on with him then?" He motions to the bar, I know exactly who he means, even though he is in fact in London and no where near the bar this night. "Who?" I question, smiling. There is no one else for him to mean, the place is filled with old friends, people who have always been in my life and who are more like extended family. "I saw this coming from day one," he continues "the moment you met, I saw it. I told him to stay away, even stood behind him while you talked and told him to stop. He didn't of course, dirty little southerner, knew you were too good for him, but I hated the way he looked at you. He's bad news and you know it." Richard isn't the first person to mention how he looks at me, and it makes me feel a little light headed, I tell him everything.

He tells me why my brother is so against us. Because that is exactly who he was about 5 years ago, handsome, charming, a dick head. I can understand that. I'm told repeatably that night that I am going to look like a fool and I start to believe it. I am no different to anyone else, I admit this. Richard tells me that that is the exact problem, I don't know how good I am, but he does, he can spin it, he can twist it. I tell him that I have stayed there twice, but I have not had sex with him. This makes me happy, and I must admit, takes him back a bit.

By this point I am heavily drunk, I text him, telling him I am no ones mug, that Richard knows about us and I am done. I get no reply. I wake up, gutted about it. I know what I am doing, I am not naive and I am defiantly no ones mug. I go to work, hungover and devastated, mope around for four hours, I check my phone as i leave...'How's the hangover, beautiful?'

I am honestly beginning to hate this kid, but love him more as he is away. I think about him far too much, and wish the days away. So here I am, eleven days from him being back, eleven days away from avoiding him at all costs because my heart can't bare to have him leave again, this time for good.

Everyone knows I'm in over my head.

"Hahahahaha beautiful text! But seriously, it's gonna be a tough month, keep the loaf close! See you when I'm back...x"

I've booked a one way ticket to Greece today with my two best friends and the above is what has made my day.