I'll be honest, in that last post I sounded a little bit like I was on the verge of suicide; I'm not. I also sounded really bitter, as if I had cared for other people my whole life and they had totally disregarded me; I didn't, and they haven't. And I seemed to be making out that my life is made out of blocks of poo piled on top of each other in a vaguely humanoid shape; again untrue. My inner drama queen wanted some attention from me and I got so distracted by wrestling her back down that I accidentally let her hit 'Publish Post'. Foolish I know, I will take better care in future.
I am one of the most selfish people ever, and I refuse to accept the good parts of my life and just go on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on about the slightest bad thing that happens, then wander around pulling sad faces and trying to make everyone feel sorry for me for the next few weeks, then refuse to talk to anybody about it. And if the people I'm close to don't appreciate me, they do a bloody good job of hiding that they don't. And I haven't given everything to someone else who doesn't care about me, that was almost entirely melodrama. And you shouldn't start a sentence with 'and'. Whatever. Does this face look bothered? Oh you can't see it. Take my word for it, it doesn't. Basically I have a blog so the few people who I have told about it can read and understand and I can kid myself that everybody else in the world also cares, while in fact most people are just relieved I'm not making a fool of myself on facebook. Bored yet? I am. Not of you, of my own inane wittering. Ciao for now, Mr Cow. Bloody hell, I really have gone balmy.
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