I want Friday *now*.
I miss my butterfly.
I wish I could fast-forward the bits of today that are going to be boring.
It's going to be, like, The Subject That Everyone Avoids, isn't it?
I just know it.
There are no pictures and there will be no pictures.
Nobody will mention it. Perhaps they've all forgotten it.
But I, I know. I know. And I didn't want to *know*, even though I did already sort of know. Because...I know things. I'm like that.
But did I have to hear it?
I lied. There are pictures. There are pictures in my head and they will.not.leave.
Oh, and our stupid, stupid, stupid, pathetic, pointless Summer Ball can go to hell. Straight to hell. I'll buy it tickets.
I feel like destroying everything to do with it. Which would be a *bad* idea. Lots of people have worked hard on organising it. Some people might even enjoy it.
For me, though, it won't be glitter that hangs in the air above my head, it will be "What if", and you all know how much fun that is.
Why is this upsetting me so much?
...I run into "I'm stronger than you think I am."
But it's true, damn it!
Later : ~ahem~ Kate, you're an absolute tart. (Well, I suppose it's not his fault he keeps turning up in pictures with various items of stalkage, but it's still true.)
Even later : Oh? Apparently he *can* be blamed for showing up in this picture. ~grin, bounce~ Pretty...so pretty...
...I have *got* to meet Steve.
Later : But oh, god, someone stop me from e-mailing him to tell him how pretty he is. Cilla, tie my hands behind my back. Or something. ~backs slowly away from the computer~
I have that tingling feeling at the back of my neck - the one I get when something's gone horribly wrong for someone I care about - the one that explains why I'm rarely surprised when said someone, whoever it may be, tells me that something has gone wrong.
Perhaps it's just delayed from Thursday night or something.
Perhaps it's an approaching migraine.
Stalkage, well. Nobody gets geekier than Cilla. ~cuddles awfully *awfully* geeky Cilla~
Why did everyone keep taking pictures of this unattratctive just-rolled-out-of-bed-in-a-haystack 16-year-old? Perhaps he's someone important that I've just overlooked. Or perhaps the rest of the world finds him desperately attractive. I don't know.
And There Was half a Roisin, and it made me grin.
And then I was looking at a photo of I-don't-know-who and saw a familiar face. Actually I first saw a different familiar face, one of the strangest faces I've ever seen so I always recognise him. And then. Well, and then there was meepage. ~meep~ Am I just out of my head regarding his prettiness? Does nobody else think like me? Ah well.
Alas, no Steve. ~makes gesture of general woe~
Cristal is playing Rachmaninov in the hall. It must be so difficult. It's a fantastic piece.
I miss my butterfly.