Culmination

Just to think, the thing I’ve been looking forward to all year will happen.

I will love it. I know I will. Nothing can go wrong.

P.s Band practice tomorrow with a band that pulls their finger out of their ass? Nowai

Loss

I woke up today thinking you were next to me, a transition of a lucid dream.

I started in knowing I was in a bunker, wanting to get out.

You were next to me, and knew a way out.

I saw the date – 17 July 1944. I saw it again – 25 November 1788. I knew

So I followed you, seemingly without you knowing.

You kept walking, through the cave, into a colourful haven. I hid behind a wall until you finished losing the guards.

Robots guarded the small opening in which I slunk through, masked by my own arrogance.

You faded into the distance…
I caught up…

You pushed me away.

I fell down and cried.

Never have tears felt so fucking real

Fuck you, dammit, and I hate being a depressive 18-year-old, who’s obviously inferior to 19-year-old-cunts.

Futility

So I just got back after pricing some foldable walking sticks.

Think about it. WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO FOLD THEM UP

At least it’s National Talk-Like-A-Pirate Day tomorrow. And I have parties organised up until next Sunday. Then it’s just going to be Partayy central…

Also, now I know how you feel with regards to money – seeing the option of spending £1000 adds a fucking burning great lust whenever you enter any goddamn shop. I might get it revoked.

Seriously

It’d be lovely seeing you in any other situation than that sexy Ann Summers’ French Maid outfit.

Though I could pretty much base my life around that too, so it’s cool.

Again, I say fuck you, I love you.

Woah

Ok, time out human race.

When you go to a shop, do not meet the following criteria:

Have a baby and are irresponsible

Have a child who presses EVERYTHING and are irresponsible/lazy/fucking stupid

Have an illness and insist on telling me what it is

Smell like death – seriously, it’s worrying how many times I have to hold my breath per day now to stop myself from gagging from the stench – I guess it’s just the fact that we’re a discount store and attract crazies.

Be Kate – now this one’s a toughie, as Kate can’t be Kate unless she doesn’t exist. Which would make the world a brighter place.

Have the ability to talk incessantly for half an hour to a complete stranger/cornered shopkeeper – no. No.

There’s more, that’ll do for now

So anyway, I was wondering if you thought that avoiding me for so long was going to stop me from thinking about you every day, longing for you, and wondering if you still care about me or think about me too? I know you’re good at just breaking off communications, and so am I. You’re keeping me sane.

I love you and I hate you.

Consideration

Surely I’d be the worst person to have as a housemate?

I listen to loud music, I get drunk often, I’m an insomniac, I’m overprotective of my things, I generally hate anything mainstream.

Or…does that make me a good housemate?

…Can I go to uni yet please

oh

man, the hangover on this bitch

never before is work going to take on another deeper circle of hell

Idiocracy

How to get on X-Factor/Big Brother/Mingle into a crowd of nobodies/be a fuckwit.

a) Wear jeans with that STUPID FUCKING BIG BELT than has no fucking meaning to it like this complete tool:

b) Act like everything out of the ordinary is terrible and a burden on society. For example, if someone wears black, shun them for it. This is not restricted to physical attributes, but also to ideals and thoughts.

[i]“Goth? Ugh, they all just want attention”[/i]

c) Only listen to the mainstream artists, watch the mainstream television, walk down the long mainstream roads and go to Ibiza every year on holiday. Get in a clique and spend all your time on Myspace. Grow up and go through school, college, university, maybe get a postgrad. In the meantime, piss it away by drinking and fucking. Get under the illusion that there is ‘the one’ and fall in love. Marry at 23 and have 2.4 kids, with a Renault Clio in your garage. Get a job as a middle manager in the average office and sleep over 6 hours every day. Get one of those comfy pillows and furnish your home with leather. Get a big television so you can watch the latest outcome of X-Factor on Kiss. Live in blissful fear that one day it might all burst like your water bed and make life interesting.

d) Die unhappy.

And the circle is complete. Fuck you life, what’ve you really got to offer? I’m going to find out soon enough I hope.