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20 June 2000, 21:43, Tuesday. I think. 

Back again. Got a CD of Mum, it’s further out on the weird continuum than I thought it would be. Sure they try and mess with your mind, but they do it with loop machines, and nutty clicks all the time. Nutty as in peanuts, not crazy. 

I hope the open window is going to work. It’s bloody hot in here.

On Saturday night, got stoned once again, it was a bit more normal. A bit more effective, Sitting still wa a very easy thing to do. 

Fuck actually, I’ll write about that later. What in the name of hell gives people the right to comment about me a I walk by? Who the fuck do they think they are? Not people actually, teenage boys, which lets face it, are about as far from people as you get. I’ve fucking had it with that. I don’t walk past them and comment on the obvious, so I don’t see why they should. I’ll have to say word like, scum, wanker, fuckwit and so on all the time. I don’t appreciate being called it either, nor do I see how boobs can’t be obvious. Did I buy a wonder bra for nothing? Sometimes I wonder if I’d get chucked out of a lesbian bar cos they thought I was male. I don’t want some weird weird woman who’s soo fucked up about their gender that they like me. Maybe I’m asking to much there. Maybe I don’t care. Maybe writers are scarey people who never really get involved with their subjects. 

No more getting drunk. Fuck it, if I can’t be fucking confident in this life, I’m not getting dragged into another one by alcohol or goddamn hash. Fuck it. I’ll go the hard way, and fucking keep my confidence. No more bloody reversions. I hate them, I hated them, and I’m gonna hate them again. Keep them away. Wake up, just to go to sleep, and all that shit may be unavoidable, by drink to gt confident then soberise and get shy, no fucking way, had up to here. No more regressions, only forward, only progression. 

Water, I need cold water. Lets see what I can live on, a bottle of lilt, water, choclate in the morning and a snadwich seems to be my staple diet. I need to talk to felicity. I hope she doesn’t think I’m still in love with her, cos I’m not. (nice) and I wasn’t? Maybe a crush? Back at school I could hav had a crush on anyone. Let me count, 1,2,3,4,5,. Five people at least, of variaing ages, hair colours and height. Od I hate people who go for types, my type is blond hair and green eyes. Do you really give a fuck? What about their personality? Jesus, and these people procreate, which is what scares me. I’m not being snobbish, in an intellectual sense, am I? I just thought people would choose someone they were going to live with for the rest of their lives on the basis of more than hair colour. 

I need to go to uni. 
 
 

Author information goes here. < That's Me! Or Meg if you want my full name. 
Copyright © 1999 by [weirdscience]. Most rights reserved.
Revised: 27 May 2000 21:14:14 +0100 .