

…tonight absolutely blows. Still, I guess there’s always room for my FIFTH EVER ‘read more’ post.
A friend who goes to uni in London came home to stay with me, which was lovely, but we went out to the pub (something I’ve been avoiding since spending all my money), where of course, we realised that our lovely little nostalgia-filled town is full of people we no longer know. We had a couple of really pretty awful hours in the very pub where we all spent the majority of our nights as teenagers feeling like complete outsiders.
ANYWAY, I got hungry and too bored to bother being polite any more so I told her I was going to make some food and she was welcome to come home whenever she wanted, as she met some friends going to the local nightclub (something I’ve been avoiding since I lost interest in meeting girls). So I walked home, cooked a nice meal that was frankly more satisfying to both prepare and eat than the hours spent out.
What the fuck is wrong with me? All I want to do is work, read, blog blog blog and sleep. I have no interest in anything social any more. I have no interest in anything romantic or sexual whatsoever. Honestly the most enticing thing I can think of right now is a really fast-paced and relatively thought-provoking instant messaging conversation about something writing/media-related.
Plus I have to give up smoking - my very favourite thing. Of course there’s no need for an explanation as to why. I’m just really annoyed about it.
Plus my beautiful shoes are falling apart and I’m sad about it.
PLUS I’m going to be woken up by people coming home at 4am who have had an amazing night of drinking and grinding and generally being incredibly young and happy. For some reason the universe has yet to explain to me I am apparently the only person who doesn’t enjoy it.
More whinging to follow eventually, I’m sure.