Bittersweetness

I’m typing this firstly in word because I don’t know if this will get published. I’ve had the most amazing response to my blog. See, I have an email notification for my blog for each comment, and when I signed in I had 17 different ones from lioness, who by the looks of it read my entire blog in the middle of the night and commented on most of it. That is stupendous. It really made my day, thank you. Gosh, people care. And for my regular CarpeDM, well, what can I say? The last week has been hectic, as you will see in the post above. I’m so sorry if I’ve scared you. To tell you the truth, I’ve just been busy. That is the long and short of it.

Today was Ok. I learned about the electoral system in Britain (same as USA and Canada except we don’t choose the actual Prime Minister). I was with my new friends Richard and Andy, and upon a discussion after class about whether women rule the world (which the men so obviously do, even if they are by the most part controlled by their private parts.) I said cock in front of two boys and my politics teacher. Happy days..

I’ve also started off in this new gay youth group. It’s pretty good actually. There were liquid condoms and all sort of sex accessories. The people were nice, and they have all sorts of plans for cinema trips and Pride stuff and all sorts to cheer me up during the winter months.

I left at about 7pm, and by the time I got the train to Turnham Green it was pitch black and I felt pretty scared. I thought I loved the night. Its like a blanket that covers your face, and hides any pretence of grace and its all your mind that can keep you awake. I should know. Almost all of my poetry and my stories have been written in the middle of the night. I thought the night would be my friend, but I got scared because I couldn’t see anything in the dark. It reminded of all my panic attacks I’ve had before I cut myself (I now realise), and I didn’t like it, for want to be more of a writer and be more expressive in my writings. I felt like such a fraud. Of course, I’m so middle class I realise, with Dads car and my TV and stereo and broadband. I’m so fucking lucky, and look at how I thank the world. So I took one of those travelling perks, the good old abandoned magazine and read the pictures my life was surely bound to lead to.

Now I have to go…its time for bed. More reading, and trying to write. I just feel like theres this fucking amazing poem waiting to come out and greet me. It’ll be there.