Wahey, it's pay day!

I had a really rubbish evening yesterday. When I left work, I was in a foul mood and I literally stomped down the road to Elephant with my music on as loud as it could go. At the station, I noticed that I was crying. I suppose that explains why people were giving me odd looks. I managed to cheer up enough to get home in one piece, and I then sat around aimlessly in my kitchen, trying to think of things to do. I debated whether or not to have any dinner, as it would mean I wouldn’t be able to have any lunch today. In the end I decided to have a small portion for both dinner and lunch, making it thoroughly unsatisfying.

I hate thinking about my ex boyfriend. That’s why I was so upset. He just makes me really angry, and I hate the fact that he’s still around, and can find out things really easily about me. I don’t want him to know anything about me. I don’t see why he should know anything. After all, he decided that he didn’t like me (his words were “I’ve really grown to hate you… and it gets worse every day”) so I don’t see why now he should be able to find out anything. I mean, it’s not like I think he’ll even ask anyone about me. I just don’t want him to have the opportunity.

After watching some thoroughly unsatisfying television, I went to my room to waste some more time. It feels like I tidy my room every day, yet it’s always quite a mess. Probably because I accumulate so much stuff and can’t throw anything away, and because I’m always in the middle of doing a million different things at once, most of which don’t get completed and just end up being “filed” (ie. put on the floor or piled on top of my speakers). I have broken my really awful habit of keeping mugs in my room. It looked a bit too much like this guy I used to knows room. He was disgusting. He was best friends with one of my exes, and everyone used to go to his house to smoke bongs. He lived just up the road from my sixth form, which was quite a convenient location if you were in that way inclined. His room was the basement of his parents house (his dad was never there; I think he was a polar explorer or something) and because he wasn’t allowed to smoke cigarettes or spliffs in there, he used to smoke bongs. Not only did it STINK, with no natural light, but there was no carpet, the floor was covered with tobacco and other skank, there were a million cups and spoons and it was generally really gross. I was going through my diary from back then and I’d commented that there were so many cups and spoons that I was sure there was a third world country without any. My friend H said yes, the whole of Africa. Smarmy git.

Anyway, I digress.

I had a very miserable conversation on the phone, and then a satisfying cigarette out of my bedroom window.

This morning I woke up with a huge smile on my face- it’s pay day!
I’m just about to head out on the piss (on a school night- I know, I know!) with G. He’s coming up from Brighton for the evening, and we’re going to get pissed. Nice.