DurAnorak (duranorak) wrote,
DurAnorak
duranorak

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I guess...

...there's no real reason why I shouldn't keep on with this. If it annoys you you've no need to read it. So long as I avoid talking about the absolutely awful stuff going on, I can probably cope. Incidentally, no Whitby for me. Which at least means I'll have a bit more money next month, and also that I'll be able to see shinysparkly and alisalohv. Bounce!

Mum bought me clothes yesterday - a very nice, very sparkly skirt, and a beautiful long dress I'm trying to work up the courage to wear tonight. I probably won't in the end, but The Calling does odd things to my sense of confidence. So actually I'll probably wear it and then wish I hadn't. Particularly if Steve does happen to be there.

Mmm. Steve. There has been much character work going on over here and it's ever so pretty. ~s~

So yes. I shall go to the ball tonight. And last night I saw basically the only person who could have made me feel better. And they did. So, go them - they know who they are. And now the builders have arrived outside. And I had a really strange dream last night, which will teach me to read Iain Banks before I sleep. (Yes, I've finally given in and started the book I've been avoiding for months.)


I am not: ever going to recover from the events of the past week.
I love: dancing - not that you'd ever guess.
I hate: migraines, and being given hope only to have it taken away again fast.
I fear: the next three months.
I hope: I will one day get the chance I'm wishing for. But, um, y'know. By "one day" I mean "soon". Um.
I hear: the builders outside, and The Fimbles on the TV in the other room. Never mind.
I crave: the person I saw last night.
I regret: being stupid enough to fall for the oldest trick in the book. Again.
I cry: all the time.
I care: more than anyone ever, ever realises.
I always: want what I can't have.
I believe: that by January things will either be better or I will be dead.
I feel alone: most of the time, though not when I'm touching someone else, even if it's just resting my hand on theirs.
I listen: extremely well, and almost always understand, though occasionally someone I know talks such that if you ran him through Babelfish the entire internet would disappear in a puff of smoke.
I hide: wishing someone would come and find me.
I drive: everyone mad sometimes.
I sing: all the time.
I dance: by myself, alone, in my room. The only person I've ever felt comfortable dancing in the company of is kitty_goth, really for no reason I can actually work out.
I write: less often than I want to.
I play: the innocent very, very badly indeed.
I miss: the person I saw last night.
I search: using Google. ~shrug~
I learn: occasionally, but not often enough. (Ah, if only I could find someone to beat these lessons into me...heh. Anyway.)
I feel: terrified about tonight.
I know: more about you than you realise.
I say: what I really feel. It gets me into terrible trouble.
I succeed: rarely.
I dream: of saving the world from acid-emitting haunted statues on torture wheels in churches, according to last night.
I wonder: why I bother, when anyone else could do it and be prettier than me as well.
I want: ...heh. The person I saw last night. Sorry, one-track mind. I'm 18. Hey.
I have: more scars than you can shake a stick at. And still not enough.
I give: and give, and give, and give, and give, and then collapse and am told I have to give some more. Heh.
I fell: in love with a man who told me to kneel and take his boots off and promptly passed out half-on the floor. Where exactly was my brain? You can take your own fucking boots off...~g~
I fight: for other people, occasionally, but rarely.
I need: ...guess. ~grin~ Yep, you got it.

Anyway. See some of you tonight, & stuff.

E.
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