When you sent me off into the world,
Were you scared that I might get burned?
Would I try a little...tobacco?
Would I still be lifting up my skirt?
I was going to write about what my mother did to me, but I couldn't. It's too damn truthful. I can't talk to Nik (not for a while. Is that bit over?) Can't afford to talk to Ria. Dad is not calling. I'm spending too much time trying to not get angsty/fall apart. I can't now, because I'm four hours from home and London and if I alienate myself here and don't find someone to cling to SOON I might not last the year. Where did all the potential best friends go? I have to get up and buy washing powder and organise my life, send out letters. At the moment, because I can't get a job and I have no money, I am whoring my fuck-ups in psychological experiments for money. For example, next Friday I'm going to talk to a practicing psych for an hour for 10 pounds. Now I'm applying for another experiment for anxiety sufferers for another £25. How long till I feel like a complete freak show? How long until my anxiety and my OCD gets the better of me? (Believe me it's trying). Am I doing the wrong thing by whoring out the fuck-ups? I need some advice here...