It's all the same, it's still fucked up.
Where have I been for the last two weeks? Well, drink your way to the bottom of a few litres of vodka and you too shall be illuminated. It's gotten to the stage (and taken a bow before curtain call) where sobriety is a non issue. If I'm not wasted, I'm not awake... And I don't have to worry about that much either. One thing that's really been affected is my energy, which is only the most obvious thing I could point and whine about. I miss kickboxing :( Who knows how hard it'll be to get into shape after this last binge.
Another morning where I wanted to stay in bed and snuggle with my nose pushed between mike's shoulder blades and overlapping thighs, wandering hands on soft, biteable hips. I don't know what it is that makes the warmth so irresistable, but I tell you, it's worth paying an extra £1.30 a day to come home for lunch and crawl back to bed. A whole hour of bliss is so worth that.
There's a new love in my life. It's got the inch on my old one. In fact, it's got about nine inches :D
T.V <3
Other than these blurry-eyed mumblings, everything's been so boringly average. I'm still a moody cunt with more moodswings than schizophrenic playground. Urgh. I'm so.. sleepy..
I need to move out. I need my own space. In space. I don't care where I live, just get me away from Jan because I'm five years overdue to be flying this nest. Also, part of me (probably the same part that wants to kick crying children in the face) wants her to see if being alone in this flat is really what she wants. After so much complaining, it would be nice to see her get fat and lazy and cease to exsist without me, her perfect child prodigy super ego bitch.
See? Wasn't that nasty? I can be mean too.
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