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.

Second

I’m currently in the second stage of something bad happening in my life – I have a little while to go before acceptance. So before I begin, I will say the first stage is sadness, and I held my tears back (though I’m male, shock horror).

Fuck you for doing it on the bus
Fuck you for not being able to even tell me, and me having to guess
Fuck you for moving away when I wanted to hold you once more
Fuck you for not even saying sorry
Fuck you for turning around and saying this so suddenly
Fuck you for thinking you’re so fucking mature
Fuck you for ruining Poppets and MSI (though maybe that’s a blessing in disguise)
Fuck you, because I still love you.

Let’s move onto self-blame.

Grr

To get it off my chest (which is pale and white…):

a) I am fucking sunburnt. This is a result of both b) and partly d).

b) French is looming on Friday and I can’t tell You how much You think I’m not going to fail, I reckon I’ll scrape through at best. At least I hope…So yes, I spent around 5 hours in the sun sitting revising today. I feel accomplished yet am stinging and red in boring places. It’s nice that people generally look at my forearms but I don’t take the compliment of ‘ooh you’ve caught the sun on your nose a bit haven’t you’ every single fucking summer very well. Be warned. Just because my nose can rival a Jew’s (or so it seems) doesn’t mean you can contribute a goddamned thing. However, I am sunburnt and Frenchified as a result of c).

c) Other exams, quite frankly, don’t matter. I can pass them because I coast, people say ‘ooh you’re going to fail if you don’t pick up your act’ and I pass just to fuck them off. I know I do this, don’t say it’s for attention or I’ll wrap my 10-minute présentation around your angles, string you up on the swings that I’ve been revising on and around for the entire day upside-down, and proceed to beat you to death whilst reciting the thing. I am in a bad mood as a result of stress and it’s best to stay well away between now and end of June unless it’s You, alcohol in general, or the bringer of alcohol. Or perhaps a mix of the three, that’d be just fine.

d) I can’t keep time for shit. I’m showing off the Cillit Bang trance remix, and all of a sudden it’s 2:30 and I can finally fuck off home to do no work by getting a bus. Whoops, missed it so instead of doing more work, I think I’ll just chillax on the monkey bars and smell everyone else’s weed smoke. Oh come on, how is chillax not a real word. And now another letter, because otherwise I can’t organise paragraphs.

e) When I was walking home yesterday, some random passing car threw an egg at my feet and hit me…for you, this may seem a bit odd or even worth complaining about, but I just kept walking home…I even went into Factory Shop, managed to charm the Assistant while buying a crappy bag for Uni (as well as Poppets…oh Poppets. Oh.) and just I do not care. However, it got me to think…how would other people react? And what can they think of that, how can they comprehend it? E.g. In Your mindset, I’m assuming it’d go -

(Subconscious) Thump, what the heck was that on my foot.

*Looks back* looks a bit like a broken apple, why would anyone wtf a yolk? Ok, where did this egg come from? Who threw the egg? Why did they throw the egg? (This all comes at once)

*Vainly looks for the car that threw it* am I to blame? Have I done something wrong? Eggs aren’t thrown at random people. Or are they? Is this a pre-emptive attack considering the person driving the car had no idea where I would usually be, as I am often in different places? If so, why didn’t he hit the guy in front of me? Does he look more of a twat than me? No, he has a leather man-bag. Is he perhaps too twattish to egg and I need to be cut down to size? I don’t see why a random attack would do this.

Etc. But you know what I mean. Fuck me I ramble don’t I. Don’t bother reading that all if You don’t want to.

Where was I? Oh yeah, nowhere. Gah French, gah gah gah. Ok, I’m sticking on French rock, closing the curtains to the setting sun highlighting the swarm of bugs waiting to rip me to shreds (damn, didn’t play football with Dad, should do tomorrow or something), flicking the light on, getting annoyed at it as it’s energy-saving and therefore my room looks like it should be lit like a portaloo for 5 minutes (I like my lightbulbs strong and my women submissive…should be my tagline) and reading my crapping 2 pages of bullshit. Come Friday I can’t wait to feel un-stressed. Period. Trust me, I stay angry but am not stressed until the exams are over because people are just..so..annoying when they’re stressed. Though it makes me feel both good and annoyed that I can spot each person’s reaction to stress before I happens, because I should’ve taken Psychology instead of Media, which is a doss despite opening more options later on. E.g. the clowns get clownier, but also very silent at times. The bitches bitch even more, but also feel guilty about themselves, and upset – they don’t know why they’re upset, but it’s their subconscious trying to cope with the guilt/stress. And the womanisers and macho-men just have a short temper. In that if you tell me I’ve lost weight I convince you you’re actually much bigger than you used to be. Maybe I’m generalising but that seems to be it.

What else do I talk about…bleh. Should have mentioned in my main blogathing that I am rather obsessed with spelling and grammar. Use your or there in the wrong situation and I immediately think you’re originally from South Wales where inbreeding has affected you to the point of not being able to figure out the difference despite elitists like me correcting time and again the frankly simian mistakes.

I feel like I’m taken, though I’m not. I have also thought and decided on a definite goal for my lucid dreaming. You will be chained, with those furry handcuffs, to a balcony overlooking the Eiffel tower, bent over with legs spread wide. You will, in Your words, let me fuck You senseless. No, there’s no reason for this paragraph, I just have nothing left to say.

Seeya.