What A Strange Day: I Can't Help To Think It Means Something

Why do things keep going right for me? I've got my Oxford university interview on the 7th (of December - two weeks away!!! Where did November go? I barely had time for socks), counselling is going ok, I had a big cry last night and didn't talk to anyone, but that was because I was cold and wet. There was this massive hailstorm that whipped my face and legs as I stood pathetically at my front door thinking about ways I could break down the door because I had chosen this day to forget my keys and no one was at home. So I took a bus to the library and read for a couple of hours until Dad could get me.

I'm still in a decent mood. Why? I told Dad the truth. I stopped lying. When he came back from his (horrible: Grandad became a little more senile because of it and Grandma ended up in hospital) Carribbean cruise. He just had his fatherly inkling: he sat me down in my red fleece dressing gown, and told that there was no one who could love me more than him and that I really could tell him. So I told about the overdose. I told him about the psychiatrists, and the social workers and all the lies I told. I told I was feeling depressed, and I started to cry and we stopped talking then, cause I don't like to talk about it. It's been 9 days, I'm just glad I'm home in my bed and I didn't die through morbid stubborness. I'm finding it terribly difficult to return to reality though. It's like I'm suspended in thick mid-air, waiting for roses to fall and trying to write short stories about the nitty-gritty realism of the blacked-out ghetto, feeling utterly in the middle and meddingly confused, as if this was all to be someone else's fault. He doesn't know I cut, or that I have eating problems, or that it wasn't a complete moment of madness, but a...god knows, but he's asking questions.

My teachers are being lovely - my homework is basically very lax now due to the overdose and that I can ride off my perfectionisms from last year that gave me AAAB in my AS's. I'm finding it hard to relax and concentrate. I just don't know how to manufacture such a thing. And everyone's asking me out to places. I'm going to the theatre for the first time with Rich and Alastair and his girlfriend so I'm excited about that, and then the day after I'm going to National Portrait Gallery for Self portrait research (Don't I sound educated?!) and having my first protest - Action Against Torture down at Downing Street 1:30-2:30 --don't miss it! I mean, how big a deal is it to actually have survived a suicide attempt? Should I feel I've gone through onto this greener plateau where everything where it really hasnt, my tongue has loosened.

I have to say Rich is amazing. He doesn't know I blog because he only knows I had an overdose and went mad when I was 12, which is actually quite a bit...anyway, he's been really supportive, good to talk to. He and Alastair bought me a jar of Quality Street which was what I needed and I don't need anymore chocolate for the next few days. And he's been supportive and not awkward and sweet and just...I didn't know I had such a great friend under my nose. It's his birthday today and I want to get him something amazing for his 18th, but I haven't a clue. Maybe a book? Some plays? I haven't had a chance to write him anything...or I don't know. I'll have to figure it out for myself!

Today is strange because I quit Classical Civilisation, I've sworn off drinking and feel good about it, today I got the interview with Oxford (I'm shaking in my boots, even now) and there's this irrevecoble (sp?) proof that you can drink yourself to death, with the fine example of George Best, R.I.P. I don't want to end like him, pathetic and on a drip after all the luck the world could possibly give you. To ignore your desperate friends and family, to obey an affliction that just keeps lying to you, deluding you, as it poisons your skin and poisons your mind. It can most certainly happen to the best of us, and the most loved. So constant vigilance is your shield. Use it.

For now, I'm just hoping I have a good weekend. And so should you lot, outthere.

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