More cheerful post, finally.

I have this urge to go swimming in the ocean. Deep and far and away. To float underwater, sun dappling my skin, feet sinking into sand. To feel light and weightless, like the sea is carrying me. To be able to breathe underwater, and let my curiosity carry me to the darkest depths of the earth, as far away from light as it is possible to get. Just to touch the bottom of the world. Then to soar upwards and break the surface and take in fresh salty air.

There's a little bit of summer escapism for you.

Thank you so much, sweet girls, for the comments on my last few miserable posts. I guess I've just been in the shit recently about everything - my weight, my work, my mum, what's going to happen this year - everything, as I say. The hard thing is, all of my fears are very real ones. Any of them could happen. It's not like I can tell myself to buck up because I'm thinking irrationally: I'm not. I could very easily have to stay behind next year if I can't pull through and get the grades I need to go away. I am mostly scared of myself - that if I stay here, I'll just sink into a deep depression and not be able to pull myself out. Even worse, my mum seems to have this fear too, which she constantly reminds me of on a daily basis. It's kind of hard when all you want is someone to just believe in you, and tell you everything's gonna be OK - but all the adults whose beliefs and opinions you put faith in, are simply validating and confirming your worst fears by admitting they're scared too. I've just been feeling very confused and upset and worried over the last week, and now I feel a bit more settled. It's mostly because I called up my dad, and he calmed me down massively. Sometimes you just need that straight-forward paternal voice in your head telling you to chill the fuck out, because things will work out in the end. My own logic wasn't really doing the job all of last week, but my dad sorted me out in 30 minutes.

I met the Swedish couple properly - they are gorgeous. And their kid is so sweet! She's three with the chubbiest cheeks. She looks like a little Swedish angel. I'm going to be charging £6 an hour, and they'll probably want me over there at least once a week, so I'd say that clocks up to around £80-100 a month. Yay for extra money! I know it's not much, but for me it's a lot - I'm pretty broke most of the time, and I have to pay for a lot of stuff myself. So that's great :)

My sister wants me to buy her one of those bralet things. You know, the cropped bodice-type ones that are really fashionable right now. I find the idea of me trying to pull one off hilarious - they are made for waifs with tits, like my sister. Maybe if I was Edie-skinny, I'd be able to wear one under an open shirt, or something... but still. I'd feel self-conscious even then, about having my stomach out or my arms showing... I don't know how people wear these things and feel comfortable. The same applies for people who can wear hot pants with no tights underneath in the middle of March. (Yep, I've seen about 10 people on the streets recently wearing them, and they haven't exactly been the slimmest of people, shall we say.) Camel toes for the win.

There's a Tatler modelling competition on at the moment, that I read about on La Petite Anglaise. I actually pointed my friend Charlie (old readers might remember her from early posts) towards it, because she is perfect model material. She's half an inch shorter than me, but about 20 lbs lighter.

And I am, of course, jealous. She looks exactly how I want to look. I pointed her towards the modelling gig because I thought she genuinely had a good shot, and I know that in her gap year she will probably go in for some sort of modelling work anyway. She got all excited when I sent her it, and was like 'We should go in together, double our chances' etc. Yeah - if I was two stone lighter, maybe. But it just made me realise how ordinary - plain, even - I felt, next to her. Now she's at a different school I haven't had to compare myself to her all the time, but literally, she is exactly what I want to be. And there's no way I'm going to get any kind of modelling job if she can't.

Standard competitive friendships, but the worst kind, when neither party wants to admit they're competing, and there's just this sort of awkward passive aggressive undertone in every conversation about weight or appearance.

And, lastly, I'm going out to see Tina this evening for a coffee and a cig (woo) on her high street. She's really depressed at the moment - maybe even more depressed than me, which is saying something, considering the state I was in all of last week. Poor thing is going through some bad stuff at home, and she's also pretty confused about university herself - whether or not she wants to go. Last night on the phone I said to her 'Yes, it's shit now, but it's not going to be shit forever'. I think I need to remind myself of this. It actually makes logical sense.

OK, that's all folks. Hope you beauties are well, and lapping up the hot weather, if you're this side of the globe.