I'm such a fucking moron. I think what I would like to do right now is fuck off and die.
I got home this morning and there was a strange man in the house, except I guess he's not a stranger, I know exactly who he is, but the fact that he is here is strange in itself. So I tiptoed around trying not to be a pest. I didn't think I'd be able to talk to anyone but I tried really hard and it was okay-ish, but I was exhausted afterwards. #1 can see right through me and she knows something is desperately wrong even when I'm like "I'm fine" and trying to change the subject. I ate a piece of toast and immediately threw it up. I'm going to stick to cigarettes and diet coke. Ha! It's like a proper dancer's diet. Except I can't dance, and next week someone from the Guardian is coming to my ballet class, but I honestly don't care anymore.
I came within an inch of being hit by a car earlier, and it gave me such an adrenalin rush. It's cool to feel something that isn't misery or apathy or worry or fear. I wouldn't mind being run over. When I got hit by that taxi, it was more exciting than anything else. And it's fucking easy to get run over, you just walk down the road really, or shut your eyes and cross the road.
We went to the ball last night and that was nice. There was a small army of people serving the food, all orchestrated by a man with white gloves, who was conducting the whole operation. The food was really good (I'm glad I'm vegetarian because the vege option looked way nicer than the meat one- but perhaps that's because I find the sight of slabs of bloody flesh quite disgusting) and wine was poured for you and all. I tried to talk to people but I'm socially retarded, and what can you say? Then I felt really bad, because it's not my night and if I was a better person I would be able to be all witty and "sparkling company" or whatever. But I'm so not. And although many of the people seemed like tossers (including a man who looked like a warthog), there were some sweet people, such as a girl who was telling me she was really envious of me for working in the punlic sector. So I took the sensible option and locked myself in the loo and made a tit out of myself by calling the person who'd been the biggest advocate of me NOT going. I tried to get some control over the situation so I did the two things that normally work- be sick and help people. Then we went home and I felt like I died.
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4 comments:
cheese is good with diet coke.
was the head waiter a flamboyant repressed looking spanish sounding old homosexual man who looks like he still lives with his mother, like in all the movies. that would be ace.
cheese is indeed good with diet coke. in fact it neutralises all the sugar and is more effective than brushing. always eat cheese after having diet coke. dentist recommend it. (true story)
call me if you want a drink. call me if you want a chat. call me if you want anything at all. anytime.
the fox came back btw x
I'm not really eating cheese anymore. I'm going to become vegan (I think) and if not, well, cheese is well fatty and stuff, so best not. I brush my teeth and floss and use mouthwash every night though, so do you reckon that's okay?
And I miss the foxes. I miss everything.
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