Because I am sat here alone, on the last Friday night before Christmas, listening to Sigur Ros and Jeff Buckley, and crying like the pathetic failure I am.
I slept all day, exhausted and ill, and with no one to blame but myself and the stupid lifestyle I've been living. I'm too tired to go out. I thought about it, but my parents practically killed me for even voicing the idea. Then, at nine, when I'm too tired to do anything, they tell me that they would have let me go if they knew I wanted to so badly. Liars. I've been screaming, punching walls, so angry and frustrated. I know I couldn't even survive the walk into town, let alone any socialising or chemical intake. The aches in my body let me know that I need a break. I don't want a fucking break. If I take a break, then everything stops, and everything falls apart.
Today is Jake's 18th, and a gathering at the Nag's. People are home from uni now, I wanted to see them. I desperately need to see people, the ones I care about, who I've known for ages. No. Not going to happen.
I can't even talk online because the internet keeps breaking. I only need a minute of working connection to upload this blog, but that's all I can get, making conversation impossible. The only person texting me is a man friend, who seems to be either lonely or just bored. I'm going to have to call off our arrangement soon. He seems to be getting too close. Too interested. I can't have that. It makes me weary.
The final straw, as usual, is my parents. My backup plan for tonight was the TV. Masses of really good comedy on. The IT crowd, Frankie Boyle, Dara o'Brien, Eddie Izzard, all sorts of stuff. But no. They have taken over the living room, to write cards, and taken over the TV, by watching a DVD of a TV series from the 80's which they have seen before. They don't even get why I'm upset. I've already had them staring at me the whole night, my dad asking 'What's wrong with your face? Eurgh look at all those spots.' Yes I know I look like a fucking crackhead or something, an ugly mess, even worse than usual, but it isn't fair to comment on it. I can't believe how bad I look. I'm supposed to be seeing a guy tomorrow, but he's going to take one look, and turn round and leave. I'm horrible.
I don't know why I'm so stressed. What a freaking idiot. There is nothing unusual happening right now. I think I've been sober for too long. If this is what sober is like, then fuck it. I'm pouring myself a vodka right now. How can anyone live?
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