I’m nearly 25...
...and it’s terrifying. Terrifying yet ridiculous (that I'm terrified) really, because I know 25 isn’t all that old, but I still feel 18 and I’m really not even close to that tender age anymore. I keep saying; “I’ll do this, or that ‘when I grow up’!”... but what am I now if not grown up?

In contract to my last, rather (nay – very) depressing post-NYE journal entry –
YAY! YAY! YAY! YAY!
I have made a conscious decision to get back into painting – although how long that will actually take to execute is beyond me – I’m starting to regret leaving university in such a hurry and abandoning my giant box of paints. Also, living in rented accommodation is not very compatible with my very messy style of working – my A-level workspace needed about 12 coats of white paint before it was back to normal.
But I have bought a proper camera, so I can start to gather some images to base paint work on, which is a start and I’ve been having fun using my new massive lense.

Additionally I am off to Glastonbury tomorrow – which is another exciting adventure.

Also I have just eaten a rice crispy cake, which was exceptionally chewy! Yay!

YAY!

I’ve lost control of myself recently and it’s been really hard to get it back. The control I used to have has evaporated and left me raw and bending to every emotion.
NEW YEARS EVE!
Of all the times to c*t myself…
What a start to the New Year! Especially when I had no specific reason for doing so, except that I’d found myself quite triggered lately, but I wasn’t emotionally fired up or anything. I was drunk though. But c*tting has a sobering effect on the mind, that’s for sure.
It’s not a need anymore; it’s a want – how selfish.
Yikes. And I’ve made a solemn promise that I’ll start counselling or therapy this year to sort out all my ‘issues’, something I’ve been putting off for ages now. But I broke down the other day and cried my eyes out on his shoulder and then I made the promise to him.
I tried to break up with him because of the self-hatred bubbling under the surface… he wouldn’t let me walk away though.
Anyone would think that I was worth hanging onto. He hangs onto me with tooth and nail. And I find myself wondering whether he just hangs on, for fear of being along… perhaps it’s not really me he wants.
He hates it though, when I c*t myself, it makes him really unhappy, depressed even. Having had a previous partner who self harmed on a frequent basis, I can sympathise with how he’s feeling, yet I can’t necessarily foresee myself stopping, or wanting to – how fucked up is that? I guess when you form a habit around something; it looses its shock factor.
He doesn’t feel what I’m feeling so he can’t understand. He doesn’t get it. C*tting doesn’t even HURT anymore, even when I’ve need stitches and gallons of iodine! I guess you’d say – so, if it doesn’t hurt then why keep doing it? – well yeah, good point. I wish I knew.
But hey – smoking kills you and makes you feel like you’re going to pass out when you have to climb the stairs – why keep doing it?
It’s not the same, but it is.
Just like this New Year – it’s not the same…
Yet it is.

Honestly! There are just some days when you wish your boss would say: ‘Well, you obviously have nothing worth doing… why don’t you knock off early, you work really hard most of the time’…! Yeah RIGHT!
I managed to wrangle myself a shorter day – ONLY by HALF AN HOUR mind - by taking a shorter lunch hour. But man, I’m going out (work Christmas party – oh no!) tonight; I need to get ready and I haven’t got time to go home. I’m going to have to prepare myself for an evening out in the toilets at work, which is not my scene at all. I’m much more of a - spend three hours at home drinking a bottle of wine, listening to inspiring music and trying on everything in my wardrobe – type of girl. I can’t even wash my hair before I go out (this is a ritual, especially since I can go out now and it’ll still smell of my favourite shampoo at the end of the evening… which is always comforting when you’re busy feeling sick in the back of a taxi).
This is why going out on the proverbial ‘school night’ doesn’t work for me, especially not with people from ‘school’ – they will know if I haven’t changed my clothes!!!
Made worse is the fact that I’m sat at my desk and I’m not remotely busy, so by rights I could be getting ready… however the rules mean that I can’t. Such a waste of time!! I have eyelashes to curl and a fringe to trim!!
Ha, sorry, I’ve had a baaaaaad day… and socialising with work folk always makes me nervous, because they’re not like REAL friends who will forgive you if you behave badly when you’re drunk… or at least have the decency to only mock you in private about it. Also, you never know who really likes you and who is just putting up with you because you’re a colleague! Who knows what kind of rumours will be circulating behind you back the next day if that girl from accounts secretly hates you?
I can go out with my friends and let my hair down, who cares if I’ve got chipped nail varnish and white deodorant marks on my black dress? None of them, they’re all probably more concerned with what flavour of cocktail to buy… plus we’re all getting wasted, so they can’t even count their own fingers after and hour anyway… there is always one pesky sober person at work Christmas parties, with the memory of an elephant – who will remember everything, every stupid drunken thing you say.

Also, I’m really pissed off with my hairdresser!!! I pay him £40 to cut my hair… and he’s really good at it, but this time I think he must’ve been distracted or something… I’ve got a blunt fringe, which is a bit tricky to cut, because I also have a dreaded cowlick, however he’s normally pretty good, but this time when I got home from the hairdressers, I’ve got some kind of wonky thing going on. It looks really bad; so I need to trim it myself… in the toilet… at work… before I go out… can you see where this is going?? It’s a disaster just WAITING to happen isn’t it?

Ha! I sound like some superficial bint who only cares about hair and make-up, which I’m really not… I can assure you… you just haven’t caught me at a good time…

Or rather, I caught myself, with this blog.

I'm suffering from some god damn pre-Christmas cold!! I've spent today at home, but unable to move any further from my bed than the kitchen or bathroom. So bored. Couldn't even bring myself do do anything creative like write or draw...

Oh and my nose is bright red from all the tissue abuse and I think I have ODd on throat pastilles. Yay!!!

Bleaugh!!!