Skip to main content

March 6th

I hate going into work at this time. Get locked in with the kids going to school and you have to be careful at what speed you walk otherwise you end up in a gang with them and having to go and drink Hooch in the shelter on the cricket pitch. I like to do that on my own thank you very much and I don't want to get in some West Side Story ting.

Either that or they run me over on their bikes going the wrong way on a one way street doing wheelies. I laugh as they smash into the dustbin lorries and fly into the compactor at the back.

Or I have to walk past them in the middle of the road and hope not to get smooshed by the dustbin lorry.

My arms are very scratchy again. They have been ok for a bit but my skin is all coming off again.

Not so good.

Had a bread based tea which tends to always happen when I don't make it. Bread destroys my stomach but I am still fed it anyhow. I am being murdered slowly. Murdered slowly by bread. It's not even nice bread.

You Tube is all broken and throwing adverts at me. It thinks I am in America (I am not in America) so all the ads are not relevant (my favourite animal is the elephant).

It's raining now. Always. I think we are in Spring now so I guess that's expected. Last year it was about this time the turned into Antartica which was GREAT FUN.

Watching a man open N64 cartridges for company. I need to find a new dancing girl. Ideally one thats not a cunt this time.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Penultimate

This is not a suicide note.  I am not allowed to do that. That would make me the bad guy. If things were a bit different though I would deffo be eating toast in the bath. I hope I get ill again. That would be perfect. The only problem with getting ill last time was that I got better. I was ready. I was ‘at peace’. Then, as now, I have had enough. I am always tired, I always hurt. I am never shown any love and I don’t really do anything I enjoy. All the things I am supposed to enjoy either I don’t or I get stopped from doing by other people who are supposed to care about me. I am now old enough to know I will never get what I want in my life. This is it, my best days are behind me and I wasted them on making do. The sun comes out and I get sunburn in the hope that it will fix my skin. In the hope it will make me better. It just makes my skin fall off in different ways and hurt from a new angle. I look for stuff to fill the box I live in. The space is getting smaller and ...

The Last Sunflower

  This is love. This is from a place of love. This is from love island. I am an internet stalker. I watch and I look. Sometimes I smile and sometimes I cry. I like to know that you are ok. Are you ok? You seem ok. You seem happy. That makes me happy. I am glad you are where you are right now. Even if it killed me to get you there. Slowly. I am transitional. I am the inbetweener. I do it all the time. I hope it works out for everyone. It never really works out for me, but I get people there. That is my X-Man power.  When I met you, you were pretending to be happy. You weren’t happy although you had the sweetest smile. It even spread to your eyes sometimes when you weren’t looking. Super cute. Supergirl.  I used to listen to you telling everyone how blissful you were. I believed you. I believed you for about a year. Then I found out that wasn’t the case. Bruises and all. And then we were happy for a bit Not for very long. Just for a bit and why? Why would you be happy with ...