insane.

there should be a picture here, however im at college, and the nature of the image i would like to post here, wouldnt be acceptable by college computer security settings. if i had it my way, it would be a picture of some executioner, with the gallows in veiw being him. it would represent the impending doom that awaits me in the form of my father.

it is precisely 11.30am, wednesday morning, and i am already comtemplating suicide.

i went to bed last night, happily tired, at 9pm - although i had been ready to pass out at about 7.10pm. i had plans for liv and victoria to stay at mine this evening; to take them both for an evening of aerobics at mother's class; for us all to have fajitas for tea; and to generally have a nice relaxing evening. overall, i was happy and relaxed after my 3 mile jog, perhaps even content at my accomplishment.

BUT morning makes its entrance, and after a nice long night in bed, all such optimism is diminshed. First of all, i get up half an hour late at 7.30am, and proceed in getting in the bath 20 minutes before i have to leave the house.

Then, the father leaves without me, therefore establishing massive uproar between me and mum, who promtly threw me out. I wasnt even allowed a suitcase; i began packing my ridiculous amount of clothes into black bin liners.

It was then, during a fit of tears, swearing and throwing clothing and half full bags at the boiler room door, that i came to acknowledge the fact that, yes, yes i might actually be mentally unstable. I was then late for college, because i obviously missed the school bus.

(looking back, i find it kind of funny, the fact that eventhough i had come to such downfall this morning, realising that there is something wrong with my brain, i mark it on the same level as getting to college late!)

However, after a calm car journey with mum and a breif encounter with Laurence in Lounge on 2, i felt better, and went to my lesson at 9.40am.

So in less than 3 hours, i have gone from being moderately unpopular with the rents, to very unpopular with the rents (especially after i stamped on the house phone and smashed up the back of it), to becoming a walking talking dictionary for swear-words, to homeless, to mentally insane and emotionally fragile, to being in deep, deep shit, to finally coming to a slight sense of melancholy.

So it is at this point in the morning, that i am going to tell all you readers (if there are infact any of you out there) about plans for a new poem, inspired by my current emotion. It is simply titled, 'Shit'. Which i think somes it up pretty well.

I have decided that i will infact be bring liv and victoria back home with me tonight, it might just prolong my father's attempts at decapitating me for just one night at least.

urgh, computers on 3, not the most private of places to spill out your inner most thoughts - i now have an audience it would seem.


bleurrghy a.

elsewhere.

purgatory (noun)

any condition or place of temporary punishment, suffering, expiation, or the like.

At the moment, I feel as though im in narnia. This, i suppose, creates two images: one - im behind the coats at the back of the wardrobe, being happily ignored and misunderstood by everyone - (why am i there? what am i doing? you know, the likes...); two - i'm nowhere, my thoughts, feelings and emotions suspended in nothingness, or an imaginery world.

All this is attributed to the inclination of division between myself, and those who maintain certain aspects of life that i try so hard to retain myself with such ease! In mental reality, I dont know whether i need to re-assess my goals - the things that i want, but what i currently seem not to be getting (or getting the way in which want at any rate).

Recent conversations have led me to wonder what is the point in trying so hard? I decide on the look i want to acheive every night before bed so that i dont have to do it in the morning and inevitably miss the bus, but when i get to college, i low and behold see every single 'inoffensive' (quote vick) female out there (you know the type - no make-up or fashion sense; poor taste in footwear; shocking hair colour - a mushy brown/mouse colour seems to be quite popular amongst this particular type of girl; evidence of a poor attempt at individuality - a lip peircing, death metal badges sewn onto the disgusting quicksilver rucksack or an obscene streak of colour nestled somewhere into the unkempt hair. The kind of girl you just want to say, 'HERE! here is a fucking Topshop voucher. sort it!') either on the arm of some interesting looking, outwardly dishy, just generally gorgeous totty, or boasting loudly about having 4 or 5 one night stands over the holidays.

It makes me think, what is the point in asking my mum to spend £80 on my highlights every 3 months? Do i acheive the desired outcome when i waltz into college having spent all my damn wages on a brand new, relatively expensive Topshop ansemble? Is there any point in loosing those extra few pounds to look nice in my skinnies when apparently, to look like a sack of potatoes is a much better option when it comes to attracting the opposite sex? And can anybody tell me what im doing wrong?

My suspended feelings; the jitters in my limbs; the butterflies residing somewhere behind my abdominals; and the heart palpitations, have led me to be absent minded lately - im aware of the fact that i probably look a bit of a simpleton half the time. its probably because i am really. Thinking has become a major pastime - the more i think, the more the situation at hand becomes exaggerated, and the smallest of things that people do around me trigger off certain emotions in my clockwork brain. Loneliness being a prime suspect; unaccomplishment shortly behind.

This form of passivity has turned my brain into a backwards seive; it lets through the important stuff, but keeps a tight hold of the nonsense that i accumulate - the daydreams; fantasies extracted from books and stories; unrealistic notions about weight loss; and hopes and dreams of the future.

Awareness of those people who are seemingly blissfully happy with themselves, their lifes, their forged relationships, manifests even more questions like - why the bloody hell did i have to be the fucking anomoly? in these terms anyway. The lack of understanding the rest of the teenage population has for people like me (if, indeed there is anyone else like me) is frustrating. Lately ive been under the slight implication of patronisation - and the inclination that my friends think im desperate (or delusional, i really don't mind which). You can literally almost slice the stress, and the depressed fumes in the atmosphere around me with a knife they're so thick.

These past few days ive been craving just to run away in order to cheer up, to retain my mind into reality and to myself - drag it away from the adventures in Narnia, Forks and Privet Drive. Maybe hiking in the lake disrict with a few select friends, or sitting in Green park for a week, just writing about nonsense, drinking coffee and having pointless tube journeys to the sights i know like the back of my hand.

College, currently is not an inviting prospect. Being surrounded by content, happy, ga-ga faces; laced hands; conversations about love life, one night stands, plans for the weekend, and ganja - I'd rather not (Y).

So, is anyone else in Narnia? Looks like im staying a while, just wondered if you wanted to meet up and get shit faced?

a very low and depressive a.

DICK faus-pas.

turpin

okay so, ermmm new year was SHITE. i won't go into too much details - too much cider, very unpractical outfit, everyone was sexed up, one particular testoserone fueled male, and sleep deprivation. parties? not really my thing...

after amy had a fry up and a couple of hours of sleep (its actually a full blown miracle i got home in such good time), we all went out for a meal at ASK, and from there, the Panto.

It was so good, totty was brilliant. too brilliant.

we went into the bar afterwards and me and the mother start talking loudly about the hott guy who played dick turpin. 'i like a man in britches', says she; 'yeah, bit of bum action', says I. only to find, a few minutes later, he walks past and low and behold, had been sat behind us during the WHOLE conversation.

badtimes.

anyway, the start of the new year has given me nothing but a hangover and tummy ache, therefore, not a very good start. i think i'll just sit this out in my room until 2010?

yeahh.

a.