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I love someone dearly and it hurts a little bit more every day.

When we met it was love at the center of a heatwave, dust on your dressing table, dust in your freshly folded clothes. It used to catch in the creases by his eyes when he laughed.
We used to wander home drunk at night, stumble down northern cobblestone paths, through Liverpool, Manchester, Nottingham. We used to stumble home down by Camden Loch and he would laugh because I didn't know left from right.
We used to stay up too late, our eyes would sting and the sun would rise slowly before either of us could fall asleep.


I get followed home a lot. I don't live in a particularly affluent part of the city and the streets are always quiet, not quiet enough. I leave A's house and I toy with the idea of catching the bus, but catching the bus means waiting for a bus and sometimes they run regular but a lot of the time they're late, sometimes its 3 minutes standing alone, sometimes its 15 and a man you don't know is sitting with his shoulder pushed against yours, breathing down your neck and asking your name.
Most of the time the bus comes and my travel card gets declined anyway because I've forgotten to top up.

00:46 (happy thoughts)

Every now and then the voice comes back, the oh "well if anything really bad ever happens." It opens the bedroom door quietly in the middle of the night and slips in unnoticed. I only hear her when she's breathing down my neck.
And when she comes back, when my reflection gets too much, when the thought of making a future for myself gets to be too much, the only thing there is left to do is sit back and think happy thoughts. As many happy thoughts as I can.
Cause all things must pass right?

1) its first year, youre drunk and the kitchen is spinning.


I went home, I spoke to my mum and she said "I thought something was up, I'm not surprised you feel like this" which all considering I'm actually kind of impressed at because not many mums could play down suicidal thoughts. Somehow within the space of ten minutes I went from feeling like my whole world was ending, to feeling like everyone has felt the way I was feeling at some point or other in their life.


Mum called yesterday because no matter how hard i try to pretend that everything fine, even when theres a whole motorway and half the New Forest between us, she can still tell when something is up.
And somethings really up.
I'm so stressed with uni that I've managed to really bad relapse again, to the point where even telling my friends how i feel is petrifying.


Last night I locked all the doors and turned the lights down low. I turned the heating back on and smoked out my window watching the lights turning on and off in the building behind my house. We still haven't worked out what that building is, the cats like it though. Maybe the roof is warm.

"Oh well if anything really bad happens," has been trying to settle down in the back of my mind lately, I think I've said that before. It keeps coming back when I'm not expecting it to, it takes advantage of that early Thursday morning lethargy that clings to you, keeps you trapped in a smoky haze.

The Jelical fuckin ball is happening outside my open window

I said I'd come back tomorrow and here I am. Yesterday I was optimistic...ish. today I am not.

Today I am totally starved of hope.

I don't want to slip again, I'm so scared.

The New House Leaks A Lot

I'm lying in the bath, the bubbles slowly melting and outside its raining, I can hear it on the roof and the window. Its dripping on the tiles and on my toothbrush.

I've been reading back on all my old blogs, if anyone were to ask I'd say I wanted to reflect on how far I've come, but in reality I know I'm just avoiding all the things I should be doing.

I feel like im sinking see, or like ive already sunk. When I lie back in my bed I lie on the seabed. The ocean is 6 miles deep and he's fallen asleep on my chest.


You know I really didn't expect to find myself here again, I was probably 14, maybe 15 last time I wound up on here, on the phone to Harper at 10pm, picking at the ladders in my school tights.
Its strange because it been 6 years and yet sometimes I still slip back into that same routine, crossed legs at the end of my bed, listening to the silence on her end of the phone, waiting for a laugh or a "fuck sake 'av you seen this?"
We always used to do that.