Popcorn, Un-Popped, Popped Corns

Dear Heart,
Tilly had her belated birthday party this evening. Aimee, Chloe and I were huddled outside in the kitchen like mothers at a meeting, sipping drinks and asking them to turn the music down.
My heart is all fluttery and anxious from our conversation, though. We debated twenty-first century feminism and religion and sexuality, and now I can't sleep for thinking.
I sometimes think the only thing that keeps me ploughing onwards is that I feel like there's something waiting for me, something I'm meant for. And it's going to be brilliant. But I have to keep going, keep fighting every day, in order to find out what it is.
Love, Lydia x
P.S. How beautiful are they?