There are beautiful people in beautiful places

Today I am not sitting in an awkward position or in an awkward place and I don't even feel slightly awkward. It is sunny, hot, but the evening sunshine is gentle and the breeze is soft- I can tell because I have the bay window doors open and I can hear the occasional tick of something hard clanking against something harder in the wind. It's not invasive, though, don't worry. In fact sometimes it ticks along to the sound of my now horrifically loud music. (Moddi- Rubbles, incase you were wondering.)

I am alone but I do not feel lonely, not today. I drink ice cold mango juice and remark how dark my hands look against the apple white keyboard. The bay window doors are open because I had to break into my own house after coming back from Greenman festival because I forgot my key- I climbed over the back gate and revealed my overtly frilly, silk knickers to the world for the umpteenth time today. They are pretty. Everyone needs to see, I decided. Mostly my wonderful love doesn't seem to agree so much, though. I love him.

There are beautiful people in beautiful places. I got back from Moulins sur Allier on Wednesday night for my A level results on Thursday. I took the train there, and we took the train back together, my love and I. My journey there was tiring and sad. I hate being alone and lonely, I retreat into my imagination and the tears have no room so have to leak and it's sad.
 I stayed overnight with my crazy, beautiful friend in Paris and her sister and twin cousins- except 'one of them ate all the food in the womb and is bigger and brainier.' We walked around their flat in our underwear and sat on their warm, warm terrace at night and watched the lights and listened to the trains. My french is getting a lot better. We talked about buddhism and the flowers their mum planted on the terrace before it started to rain and we went inside.

Festivals are full of magic things. Smiles and dancing all night and small people holding you close. Swimming in lakes, green dripping hair, sunburn and smiling. Shooting stars and orange moons so you don't need a torch. Bats fluttering, flapping, so close and screaming, peeping so you keep still and listen. Like butterflies only bigger, growling.
Naragonia play beautiful music. They play so kindly, so so gently the notes tip-toe. They have smalls, very small smalls, and you can tell. They are gentle like lullabies so they can play and the smalls can sleep. Hushed dancing.
Thunderstorms and jelly and my most favourite people in the whole world..-

I try not to think about leaving
It takes away the fullness of my heart sometimes.

I got good A level results. But they're just letters on a piece of paper. And I'm not sure I want to go to University even when I get back from the Netherlands. I need to apply for Oxbridge but my enthusiasm fluctuates. But if I don't go to university, what do I do?

sometimes beautiful places are only beautiful because of the beautiful people that you love.