You want to give up.

Wow. March.

Where the hell did the last two months go?

This is actually kind of awesome because it means that I have a grand total of EIGHT WEEKS (excluding holidays and study leave and exams) until I finish school for forever.

Yes. I know I'm coming straight back in September to go to sixth form (college at school), but it's the end of the world as I know it soon and I can't wait for the change.

However, this was not always the plan.

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I'm having a go at NaBloPoMo this month which means I will be posting every day without fail (hopefully) this month. The theme for March this year is 'giving up'. I'm not going to write about my various pitfalls all through this month but I thought I'd tell you this little story...

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There's part of a fabulous song on the soundtrack of a film called August Rush that goes:

When the one thing you're looking for
Is nowhere to be found
And you're back stepping all of your moves
Trying to figure it out
You want to reach out
You want to give in
Your head's wrapped around what's around the next bend
You wish you could find something warm
'Cause you're shivering cold.

I'm quite glad that I managed to capture the whole of year ten and year eleven on this blog, just so you can see the difference, but when year eleven started I was having a really tough time. I didn't like school anymore because it had peaked at year ten and was going downhill at a shocking rate because everything was different and harder than before.

In year eleven we had to make all the horrible choices that no one at the age of fifteen wants to make. What we want to do in life, what subjects we are taking at A Level, college or sixth form? Eventually I decided that Fulford had played scene to my misery just that bit too long and announced to my somewhat bewildered friends and family that I was going to college.

That choice was absolute torment. I was giving up so much more than I got in return. I'd be going somewhere completely different - alien, in fact - and would have to start making friends all over again, completely on my own. Emma was going to college too, but we were studying completely different subjects.

Of course, at the time all I could focus on was the difference it was all going to make. But it kept grinding at me.

We kept getting talks about how it would be better to stay at sixth form, and I went to the open evening, but I can't remember exactly when I decided to stay at sixth form. I'm not sure it was a conscious choice. I guess it's because most of my friends are staying, or because I already know Fulford really well, but I know I'm staying.

So now when I'm drowning in coursework, exam stress and various other works of... well, horror, and all I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry, I do that, then after a week or so I can tell myself that there's no point giving up on something I've worked so hard at.

And then the next onslaught of work comes along and I retreat into some desolate corner and weep, but that's just the way my life goes.