Whatever.

Day 11

So, by now I expected a portion of it all to decompose and leave. But its all still here, welling up inside my ribcage until I just cry. Crying is pathetic. It doesn't do anything, change anything, make anyone love you any more.

Fenella's birthday today. I gave her a yellow rose and all the other stuff, she liked it blablabla trivial, everday purposeless (not even a word) shit. Don't get me wrong, I love Fenella Courage to my deathbed, but at the moment nothing, not even her 18th seems to jolt any particular excitement in the greyness of ugly everyday life.

He came round. I tried and tried and tried to act normal and came out with some amateur pantomime of normality, in which I was a little too thoughtful, a little too tearful and a little too spiteful. Here we go, didn't I say I'd be spiteful as a Friend? He complimented me on the hair, a dress, all in all he couldn't have been sweeter. As a Friend. But like he said... I said - its not quite enough. There were numerous embraces, he kept holding me so tight, so voluntarily, I'm not certain why. But then again, I couldn't care less why, as long as he did. Does.

He missed the last bus. I swore that it wasn't on purpose, because that trully was never my motive in inviting him round. Ever. Keeping him hostage in my house is hardly going to push him towards loving me again. But he has ended up staying over, and consequently feeling very guilty. I feel guilty for his guilt. He's upset that she would be upset, and I am upset that he is. Triangles, circles, shapes of any kind, scarlet and blaring. I want him to hold me all night, just for comfort, just to feel "normal" for my 6 hours of sleep. But I doubt he'll touch me at all.

I want this unbearable cutting to stop. I didn't choose to be this way. I didn't WANT THIS. This fucking endless, riddling, lying, maze full of corners behind which there's only a new mountain of paranoia and scowling memories and hurt to climb over. I've had enough. I'm tired. Tired of myself and everybody else. Tired of looking in the mirror. Tired of air and food and drink.

What's the use of it all when the colour is gone and everyone turns away one by one.

I don't know what I mean by any of this. What does any of this mean by Me?

I love you still, lying next to me now, your back staring me in the eyes, the soles of your feet facing the stars like jokers and thinking about her on my bed.
Still, I love you.

Goodnight.