Jesus Christ, I am SO excited to be home on Monday. I have only 4 more hours of work until I can go home and start packing, take a nap and be ready for my last night out dancing for two weeks! Better make it a good one! Then tomorrow I might see X, but I also might not, because he's SO unreliable! Finish packing tomorrow, and stay up late with a Jen, Tim, and Laura party, which Dean might attend as well, but as he is not one of the original three, I can't add his name to the title of the party.
And then I'm off! Off on a very long flight to LAX, a long layover, and finally my flight home. First thing to be done? I have a hair appointment at 3pm. I am very excited about this hair appointment, because I'm quite sick of my roots making me look like I'm prematurely greying and badly covering it up. Because this is not the case. Au contrare, mon frere.
I feel like people are going to forget me while I'm gone. Especially clients at SD. Two weeks is too long to be gone, I won't learn the new patients, and the old ones will get to know the other girls more than me! I don't like that! And I know we will hire someone new in the speed centre next week, so I no doubt won't be close to him/her because I wasn't here when he'she started. I could've just said 'they' there, but thought I'd be a little more grammerly correct. I do not think that 'grammerly' is a real word, nor proper grammer.
The mysterious cuts on my left arm are healing, some better than others, but the one on the bottom of my arm keeps getting caught on things and the scab keeps coming off, and its a bit itchy too, which doesn't help matters. Put a bandaid on it today to try to solve the problem but it keeps coming off... not very effective. Last Friday night I saw Sex and the City with Jen Party and had a few Strongbows, then at her hostel I had a few more... resulting in me getting a minor concussion from falling off the back of the couch twice (the second time right after someone had picked me up!) and me waking up with awful cuts on my arm. Goes to show, I dont drink that much often, so it affects me terribly!
I know I won't end up packing tonight, I'll fall asleep instead.....
Friday, 11 July 2008
Thursday, 3 July 2008
Skin.
Sometimes I wonder why a life as great as this one was wasted on someone like me. I'm prone to depression, and no matter what I'm doing and where I am I always want more. I've got a beautiful family, great friends, enough money to get by, three passports, all my limbs, talent in a few of the artsy areas, a job, I'm living in London.... all I've ever wanted was someone to hold me and tell me they love me and everything will be alright. And I got that. I know in my heart I had the person who would do that for me. But I didn't want him. I've always treated nice guys badly. It's awful, they don't deserve it, I'm sure they could make me happy if I gave them the chance. But instead, I play with them, knowing I want a certain guy, the only one I've really wanted for years.
Someone asked me if I wanted to talk today. Well rather, he said if I needed to talk, I could talk to him. What a fantastic person. I feel that is one of the first times anyone had asked me that since I moved to England. The English don't seem to have emotions. Whereas regretfully, mine are pretty transparent. So to be asked if I wanted to talk was a big thing. But I could never do it. I wouldn't want to waste James' time with talk of me. There is one way I've changed since I moved here- I've realized my own insignificance.
Every time I'm upset, sad or angry, it has to do with people. People here, people home- trying to make everyone happy at once, people sabotaging my good efforts, and ruining things between me and people I care about. People are cold, and cruel. I want to move to an island somewhere and lose contact with everyone I know. I couldn't do it to my mum, but I think it'd be good for me. Perhaps when I get back from the states I'll at least start by attempting to find a studio flat- I want my own space, to helpt control my own destiny. In January I have two months I could go to Jamaica and be poor. That sounds wonderful right now.
Someone asked me if I wanted to talk today. Well rather, he said if I needed to talk, I could talk to him. What a fantastic person. I feel that is one of the first times anyone had asked me that since I moved to England. The English don't seem to have emotions. Whereas regretfully, mine are pretty transparent. So to be asked if I wanted to talk was a big thing. But I could never do it. I wouldn't want to waste James' time with talk of me. There is one way I've changed since I moved here- I've realized my own insignificance.
Every time I'm upset, sad or angry, it has to do with people. People here, people home- trying to make everyone happy at once, people sabotaging my good efforts, and ruining things between me and people I care about. People are cold, and cruel. I want to move to an island somewhere and lose contact with everyone I know. I couldn't do it to my mum, but I think it'd be good for me. Perhaps when I get back from the states I'll at least start by attempting to find a studio flat- I want my own space, to helpt control my own destiny. In January I have two months I could go to Jamaica and be poor. That sounds wonderful right now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
