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Saturday, April 23, 2005

I've been online way too long, and I'm going to write.

The world still makes no sense at this time of night, which is reassuring. Continuity is important, right? Yesterday a cokehead threatened to smash my head in, for looking at his imaginary girlfriend.

I've changed... I can't revel in being the best at anything, because I've worked for it, same as everyone else. It used to be constant triumph, and it felt great. But graft has taken the shine right off of it.
I don't know. I like achieving still, and winning. But I know it's not a fair playing field. Competing with me for some people is like racing a horse. I'm not that amazing, but it comes easy to me sometimes.

I don't like the feeling any more though. I push myself now. My limits aren't 'one more than he got', but something fun. I want to fight my way into a position where exams flee my knowledge and I know I've got 96+% the moment I walk out.

The most satisfying taskmaster is myself. (not making sense, so bye!!!)

p.s. hugs and kisses for everybody.

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

I'm finiskity, all of a sudden. Yesterday I worried my hair wasn't red anymore. In my dreams a precocious girl of nine told me I wasn't good enough to coach her. I asked Daphney if we're drifting away...

My head's off kilter. Things go... Writing's been lost to thinking. Panicuniversitypanic, as I try to think what happens when Cambridge reject me. (It's not that I love the place, it's just the course thumps my heart...)

University I'm going to be a loner anyway. At least there I can do it in style. (And my accommodation won't depend on having friends). Actually, the whole experience I'm anticipating as work, work, work and avoid the public school boys. All I want in life is work and love and kids. (Yes, it is probably too much to ask).

Fuck it, I am a loner (even though hugs and smiles mean the world). My one best friend in the world (who is a hug herself) probably won't be around then anyway. I love her.

(I love her so much I can feel my throat move when I think about her, and a missed weekend is like an asthma attack).

I just feel out of key at the moment...

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

It's half past tired, which is into the realm of graveyard. It's been holiday so long that school's a vague memory, just like whatever I've ever learnt. Can't do the tests, I pout as I try and force myself to work. Target upon target I've set myself until they list themselves in bold on my desk.

Laying in bed trying to coax a tear out of hiding, I'm thinking. The thoughts are leaving dirty, video-game tracks in my head. Turn round, they've vanished.
Struggling through another set of school questions, and Bob's not helping.

Today, everything seems to fit. Things I read piece together. Everything is sharing, or the world's run out of memory and keeps using the same concepts and ideas and words...

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