I feel compelled

I feel compelled to write. I should probably add to my novel. That's clearly not what I'm doing. I'm here.

It was O-Fest today, which means I'm drawing ridiculously closer to university. How did this happen? I have to start learning things soon.

I had a fairly good day, which ended in a quick trip to facebook, and as a result, a huge cry in my room with my mum.

A month or so ago I would have told you with complete honesty that I was totally happy with the person I am/was. I would have said, "Sure, I know I'm not perfect, but I can see and accept all those imperfections."

Today, I would have told you that I hate myself. There is one person who never fails to make me feel this way. This disgusts me. You should not allow your happiness to rely on someone else.

I am entirely unsatisfied, but I'm hoping that uni will change things for me. Perhaps it will provide a distraction. Maybe I will meet new people.

But for now, there is nothing left.

Fuck.

FFFFFUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK.

Fucking fuck fuck fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Fuck my life. Fuck you. Fucking hell. Fucking bullshit. Fucking arsehole.

I just want to fucking... Mother fucker.

If I had only - if you would just - but fuck! You're so fucking - and I'm so fucking - and they don't even - I hate this.

This is not helpful at all. Fuck.

I'm home.

I'm home and it feels fabulous. It's summer:

Hello heat, hello sun. I missed you, my old friends.

Every day is filled with friends and fun. It's good to have my old life back again.

On Friday I will be entering my last year of teenager-dom.

Angry.

Angry angry.

Sad.

Happy happy.

Scared.

Excited.

Overwhelmed.

2009

2009 was a good year, overall.

Let's explore it. Every month defined by one photo.

January


February


March


April


May


June


July


August


September


October


November


December


Yeah, it's been pretty sweet :)

I feel.

I feel wonderful.

I woke at 6:30 this morning, because I had to catch the 7:45 bus to school. I didn't want to get up so I tried to reset my alarm to 7, for an extra half hour of snoozing. The buzzer kept going off anyway, even though the little hand was no where near the alarm hand. "Oh crafty alarm clock," I thought to myself, "You have bested me again."

It was dark at the bus stop but I felt lovely and fresh, even though my nose was extraordinarily cold. When we were driving I was looking at the little hills covered in snow and thought they looked just like the sand dunes at home in the dimness of the morning.

I just got home from the Christmas party at school. I did not enjoy that. I'm tired of standing on the edge of a group pretending to have friends. But I'm going home so soon.

I left a little early so I could run to the shop to get shampoo, toothpaste and cashew nuts before my bus arrived. I slipped on the icy path and laughed very loudly. People looked at me like I was crazy.

It's very windy outside and it's swirling the snow around as it falls, and blowing it off the roof in huge sheets. It's all very pretty.

I'm content, and I'm looking forward to a cosy family Christmas and an explosive New Years Eve.

Life is glorious.

So here's me.

So here's me taking a break from writing to... Write.

Well, I don't know what else I expected. Writing is all I can do.

I feel a bit like I'm going insane, but I expect that's down to being sick and exhausted. My sleeping patterns are all messed up again. I am tired, but I can't sleep. I tried. I can't.

It's 4:30am.

Last night I was at the window watching the snow falling and crying. I didn't remember how I got there. I'd been on the couch moments before.

An hour ago I found myself standing up, holding a plate in one had and a sandwich in the other, watching one of the cats playing with a bug it'd found. I don't remember making a sandwich.

Maybe I'm sleep walking or something.

I have this weird sensation of time passing really really slowly, but also incredibly fast. I've had it before, many times. It makes me feel queezy.

I'm writing my SRP still but it's difficult it's turning into a debate. I'm arguing with myself about Nature vs. Nurture, Savagery vs. Civilization, Good vs. Evil.

I feel young, but not in the carefree, I-have-my-whole-life-ahead-of-me (which I do) way. It's different. It's strange.

I'm sick of thinking and writing sequentially. Life isn't like that. Not really.

Have I been watching too much Ashes to Ashes?

I'm in.

I'm in the hospital with a severe throat infection. It's pretty shit to be honest. Tomorrow I will probably have an operation to get my pesky tonsils and the gunk in my throat taken out. Then it'll be pain and ice-cream for a week. Joy.

After midnight tonight I'm not allowed to eat or drink anything in preparation for the surgery.

Before today, I hadn't eaten a meal in 10 days. Hospital food tasted like it was fucking gourmet. Also kind of felt like the last supper.

I've been trying to figure out what I'm going to think about before I get knocked out. They say you usually dream about what you think about just before you fall asleep. I've heard good things about general anesthetic-induced sleep, so I don't want to waste the opportunity ;)

Currently have antibiotics dripping into me, which is making it a little awkward to type. I've had this needle inserted into me for the past two days.


I'm in a two person room but I'm the only one here. There was this old lady before who told every nurse her life story and snored last night. Now she's gone and so is her bed, which makes the room feel rather empty.

Now I'm tired.

When I eat M+M's.

When I eat M+M's, I arrange them according to their colors.

I line them up in columns starting with the color I only have one of, then the color I have two of, and so on.

Today I had two orange ones, and two yellow ones. I tried to decide which color to place first, but I couldn't decide which one I preferred.

I brought my head down so that my eyes were level with the table. Upon closer inspection, I could see that one of the yellow M+M's was slightly misshapen.

Disgusted - but also perversely delighted, as this solved my dilemma for me - I ate it.

Now, my M+M graph was perfect, I thought. But even as I looked at the little colored circles I felt a pang of regret for what I'd done.

This was discrimination and segregation at it's worse.

Shaking my head sadly, I carefully gathered all of my little chocolate friends together in my left hand.

I ate them all in one mouthful.

I figure.

I figure it's about time I write another entry here.

I've been so busy lately. Just finished up a five day weekend, which turned into a six day one as I pulled a sicky yesterday, and now a seven day one, as my classes were canceled today.

I could write all about what I did during those five days, but I feel like I haven't got time. It's ridiculous, because really, I have all the time in the world. I'm sitting here on my laptop, drinking my coffee in the kitchen, in Europe, for fucks sake. No uni or anything to worry about. But I know that there are things I should be doing - things I've been putting off for weeks.

Oh, fuck it, I don't even care.

My life at the moment is all about the writing. I can't remember if I've said so in here but I'm doing nanowrimo this year. It's where you have to write a novel of 50 000 words in the 30 days of November. But because I was doing so much over the weekend, I missed four whole days of precious writing time. As a result, I spent most of yesterday typing furiously in my room. I'm now on just over 10 000 words, which is no where near enough.

Anyway, how about an excerpt? Yes, I think this is altogether necessary:


Making up his mind he glanced in both directions and crossed the street. Cassie turned when she heard him approach. She looked frustrated at first, but when she saw him her face lit up, and she smiled.

“Oh, hello,” she said, “What are you doing here?”

“I live across the road,” he answered, pointing, and she nodded in understanding.

“I live a few houses down,” she said. He almost said, “I know,” but stopped himself just in time and instead returned her nod and asked,

“What are you doing?”

He could see now that she was holding a piece of paper and a roll of sticky tape in one hand, and that she had a bunch of the same paper wedged in her sling.

“I'm putting up posters,” she replied, and handed him a sheet. It read, in bold, black font, “LOST: AIR GUITAR. If found, please call or text 0384 667 766”. Ed looked back up at Cassie and was greeted with a half smile. He laughed,

“Do you think anyone will actually reply to this?” he said, handing it back to her.

“I intend to find out,” she answered, before turning back to her work. Ed watched as she placed the paper against the the tree, then proceeded to hold it in place with her forehead while she attempted to blindly tape it on. He laughed again,

“Do you need a hand?”

She looked sideways at him from her strange position and grinned,

“I was beginning to think you weren't going to offer at all.”