oh, im not happy again? noooo, surely not. SURELY not. how unusual for me, what a delightfully refreshing change from the general bliss of life i am so accustomed to. ok so, new thing. im not dating guys any more. not that i was doing a whole heap of dating to begin with, but i give up for certain from now. i want a pretty girl to call my own, and that is all. let me give you an isolated example from the multitude of reasons as to why i have abandoned that disgusting appendage that dangles from the male genitalia for good;
the other day i went to the races. i was wearing a nice dress, not too revealing. id gotten all dressed up and beautiful. anyway, we're all waiting for a bus afterwards to take us home, slightly smashed, and i comment to my girl friend that it is awful late today. the vulgar skid mark standing next to me turns to me and goes 'why dont you signal one with your tits', before reaching over and attempting to squeeze mine. naturally i went off at him, only to have to endure a tirade of abuse from his equally repulsive troupe of minions. where has respect ad common decency gone nowadays? oh lord, i sound ancient. but honestly. i dont need that. cherry on the cake, ladies and gents.

i dont want anyone, ever, to see the movie Prozac Nation. i am desperately afraid they will relate it back to me, to how i am. it's pathetic that the closest i have ever felt towards someone is with a fictional character.

"Hemingway has his classic moment in "The Sun Also Rises" when someone asks Mike Campbell how he went bankrupt. All he can say is, "Gradually, then suddenly." That's how depression hits. You wake up one morning, afraid that you're gonna live."

it never leaves the same way that it came. and sometimes not at all. i have this sneaky suspicion this is all built into me, that the anguish is just a flawed, fucked up, twisted element of my personality, morbid cryptic scratched into my bones, scarring the ivory, destroying the milky whiteness of their potential. eve could never be fashioned from these... i imagine there would be nothing left of the human race had she been. the most psychotic element of this charade? i am terrified that if freedom were obtainable, nothing would remain to pick from the bones.

we're here. the last day. the end. a clattering of shackles upon a hardwood floor, and my million trinkets within a locked wooden box two million miles away. i am glad to be gone. i have caused misery here again. everything i approach recedes in abhorrence. she spoke truth, at my request, and still i despise her for it. never ask someone to be honest with you if you're not honest with yourself. because as soon as you are forced to be, where does it stop? we can pull apart our entire existence looking for truth, and love, and meaning, and goodness, but what is left once you realize their absence but misery? when i return i shall pull those million trinkets from their musty tombs, and i shall adorn myself with beauty to shield them from my truth.

i am so lonely. and sad. and melancholy. and insignificant. no one REALLY cares, their Jehovah virtues are lost within such sceptically minded individuals, and i seriously doubt will be recovered.

i can't create anymore.

how i long to have an ego. the self righteous always seem so certain. have you ever felt insignificant enough that you could change the world and no one would actually notice? ever worried that you wouldn't change the world and everyone would notice how hard you fell? why try when there is so little to be offered? it's all been done before.

i am finding it rather difficult to focus at all on statistics at the moment. i am a literary minded person, my brain simply cannot wrap itself around numbers and symbols and formulas, and i find it preposterous that such things are required to study criminology in the first place. what further inhibits by grasp of the assigned concepts is the fact that we have an entire database brimming with films i have yet to see, music i haven't heard. i downloaded eraserhead the other night, and regarded the decoding of its metaphors as homework instead. it's absurd, the level of failure i am inflicting, however applying myself to concepts which i plan to abort from my mind as soon as possible seems like a huge waste of life to me.

please excuse my linguistic snobbery, i have to finish the sherry before i pack and return home after exam block, and i tend to become rather uptight on the stuff.