Dear Diary
I am going to treat this as a diary today, because I need to vent about various stuff. My flatmate who does not appriciate the fact I took out the rubbish, the fact I miss my parents, the fact I got a job and that I am hooking up with friends on facebook...stuff like that.
This is a bitching session while I wait for Windows Media Player to download, so I can watch gay porn. Yep, I know, I should be male. You see, I sometimes wish I was a man. It would be easier. Also, I wouldn't have two tits that hang in the way on hot summer days. It reminds me of a song called Tits and Ass...it's a musical song. Basically she "got myself a fancy pair" of tits and ass to get noticed when preforming...great song.
Let's see...oh yes! I hope to lose weight. Not because I am fat (ha...actually, I am, but nevermind), but because I want to. I want to be that size zero. I want to wear fancy clothes and look amazing. Instead, I am overly curvy, with a belt of extra fat attached to my waist. Oh, nevermind. At least I have done my exams.
Which went shite. I did awful. I should have studied. But I didn't, because I am lazy. And lazy will get you nowhere. So I am most likely failing.
At least I have work. Harrods, no less. Let's see how long it takes before I murder someone. A day? Maybe two...
Okay, rant is lessening. Mostly because my fingers hurt from typing so hard, because I am pissed off at my flatmate for leaving me with the rubbish. I always take it out and it ain't fun. Why? Because those bloody things weigh a ton, stink...and I always do it.
(My porn download is at 25%...)
At least facebook is helping me see new faces. Half which hates me, the other think I am okay. Hey, I am not going emo, just stating facts. One even contacted me demanding to know how I tracked him down. Silly boy...Oh! My English teacher is on it. As in my old one...God, I fancied him. He was a chubby Orlando Bloom. I made a right arse out of myself in front of him, but hey...who cares. I will contact him if he puts me as his friend. Just to thank him... (for all those erotic fantasies...NO!) for all his help with my academic studied.
Oh yeah....doing a dissertation on queer theory in the context of homosexual erotic Victorian literature. Will be fun. Read porn, write about it, sound brainy, pass. If I passed, that is.
(Porn: 50%)
I miss my friends in Norway. Don't get me wrong, I like my flatmate and my friends in the UK...just miss my Norwegian friends. I was stupid enough to put out a contact ad on gumtree. Not for a boyfriend, but for just someone with similar interests. Went bad. Got 5 pictures of hard cocks sent to me. Two guys started chatting with me, nice guys...then they saw my pictures and ran.
Oh well, at least my one night stands never regretted me. They just wouldn't sleep with me again. Or I with them. Call me Nemi. I just wish I had her sex drive. Gay porn is in fact quite fun, if you're single. If not, you worry your boyfriend.
My friends are coming over in a month's time. I, of course, will be broke, working and swearing, but I am looking forward to it. Wish I could take them out, but I am sure they have better plans.
(Porn 62%)
I'm not feeling too great nowadays. About myself, I mean. It must be all the talented people around me. I always feel like I am one step behind them. Sure, I was never the sharpest knife in the box, but never the most stupid one either. Here, I am. Especially with my flatmate. She's superintelligent. Stephen Fry-esque. She's written a musical. She writes and edits and never does any work but passes her classes easily. She says things I don't understand. And meanwhile, here I am, struggling with the concepts of Boethius, or trying to analyse The Mill on the Floss. Failing. Well, compared to her anyway. If I pass, then great. Brilliant, in fact. I don't expect myself to do that though. Takes intelligence. Maybe I've wanked and drunk my braincells out?
Porn 100%
Well, I am off. I hope I didn't get too emo in this. Didn't mean to. I am just venting. I don't hate myself. Not right now. You're going to laugh, Journal, but...I think I might have Depression. Like capital D one. My moods are all over the place. And sometimes...
Well, let's just say that burning yourself on the oven is easy to explain away.
So maybe I do. Not that it would matter, because my flatmate has Depression. And mine would not be as bad as hers. See, that is my trouble.
She will always have the upper hand on me. No matter what. And it gets to me.
Oh well, rant over. Like I said...
Actually, I didn't say this. But I just needed to talk to someone.
Sweet dreams.