thanks for the support

So we drove to York on Saturday to see the university, and I fell in love with the university and I desperately want to be one of 1,400 who get in.

And then I found out that my stepmother said I’ll never get in there, and there’s no chance or hope of me even getting an interview.

Now I don’t know whether she says this because of there is only 1,400 places, or whether she just thinks I’m too stupid to go there.

Naturally I’m quite upset that she said that, but that now makes it two people who have questioned my ability to go to, let’s face it, a pretty average university.

Why do they think I’m stupid? Why do they think I’m not capable of going to university? Why do they think I’m not going to amount to anything?

Well, fuck them.

Dear Lewis

Lewis had a brain infection, and he was in intensive care. But now, (from what I’ve heard) he’s ok.

I found a PostSecret that I guess I’ve kinda stolen. Well, the writer found the words and the bravery to say it, I guess.

So here’s my Dear Lewis truth;

I had a crazy idea of going to the hospital and it would be like the films where the patient is asleep and the visitor comes in and sits down and they hold their hand and the patient wakes up and there’s this great exchange of names that haven’t been said for too long and everything is fine and dandy.

Except I know that he wouldn’t want me there.

Besides, things don’t happen like that in real life.

The Coffee Party

Hey guys, we’re obsessed with coffee! Kathkath’s been drinking it for a while and she got us all in the coffee mood. So we paid a trip to the little shop down the Street and bought five coffees and took a whole load of sugar and sweeteners back to Science. And after Tamsin’s slight accident with her coffee and Kathy being a warning sign, among other things, we were all having a great lunchtime.

It’s surprising how drunk on coffee you can feel when there’s a big bunch of you drinking it.

This scene has been repeated today, with up to around eight coffees being drunk in total.

(Sorry if the photo is huge-I’m trying to experiment with the sizes a bit more)

Forget

Sometimes I feel like I am invisible. Sometimes, I even want to be. People cut me out and then glue me back in again. I’m shifted from one scrapbook to another, one photo album into somebody’s elses. I’m not a real person, I’m a robot. One continuous cycle of migraines, stitching and sadness, linked together by momentary insommnia and forgetfullness. Shaking limbs and euphoria. Freezing cold hands and the dull ache of an echo of a migraine and a memory. Hatred and loathing mixed indifferently with fear and regret. I drift. I float. I dream. I dream of fairies and angels and family. I dream of nursery rhymes and literature, Russia and the Ukraine, Irish leprechauns and my childhood. I want to be a detective, to have a pipe and never have to emerge from a haze of smoke. I want to harness a water kelpie and let it drag me down to the cold, weedy green depths, down to a calm sweet sleep. I want to run away to the woods with a boy I love who dances like Peter Pan and never wants to grow up.

This is what I want.

But you don’t know, because I am invisible to you and your world.

It all makes sense to me.

Do Little

Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag
And bury them beneath the sea
I don’t care what the people may say
What the people may say bout me.
Pack up your troubles get your old grin back
Don’t worry about the cavalry
I don’t care what the whisperers say
‘Cause they whisper too loud for me

Blood Disaster

Today I tried to give blood but they couldn’t find a vein Well, that put an end to that little adventure.

But I’ll try next time. Sarah also had a blood disaster and now she has a plaster on each arm and is bleeding alot. We’re having another attempt in January.

Damn-I’ve only just got rid of my cold and from being in the rain all day I can already feel a new one coming on.