and it feels so much lighter... now i've met you.

it's amazing how many completely contrasting emotions can go through my fucked up mind in twenty-four hours. i have felt: exhausted, agressive, paranoid, elated, absent-minded, sick, hormonal and restful all within the space of today. i only got six hours of sleep, shouted at my mother for no apparent reason, freaked out on the train because i thought i had gone past ingatestone when i hadn't (senile dementia..?), handed in my extended essay for good, forgot to find mr wright when it was really important, felt rotten when i got in from school, ate half a tub of chocolate dairy ice cream and then slept for several luscious hours. (clever the way the emotions and actions are in corresponding order... go me!)

anyway, this wasn't meant to be another angsty entry, i was pondering about how crazy my emotions seem to be, this strange rollercoaster sugar rush. (i think i stole that off ben - copyright ben temblett 2005. someone reading this entry will probably be bothered to find out where the reference is).

it's also strange how the people living with us have grown on me, despite how determined i was to hate them. when they first arrived i saw a scrawny, 5-year-old, blonde pest and a gabbling welsh woman. harsh, i know. despite the horrible age barrier between us, i have now realised alex is actually scarily adorable, and very modest and intelligent, i'm convinced i was a lot more annoying than that when i was five. wendy is lovely and somehow holds all the maternal qualities my mother never had: she had got me into lemon tea and constantly offers soothing advice while my mother tells me to get a grip and pull myself together. good times....

my mother... i know exactly why i hate her and she knows exactly why i hate her, and we've reached this horrible limbo where she won't stop being a control-bitch and i won't stop hating her and resisting her for being a control-bitch. she looks and talks to me in such a vindictive way. i love london, i love this house, i love living here, but i hate my mother. i should probably be ashamed for hating her, or admit that i don't really hate her, but right now i feel like this is the truth: i really do. even though i wish i didn't. i'm priveledged really, i'm not some deprived, abused child, i'm just normal(ish) and i am lucky in lots of ways. this is one of the most fucked-up confusing entries i've ever written. it's also surprisingly honest, but unfortunately it's still boring, angsty crap. i'm so full of angst, so helpless, so fucking young.

honey you are a rock upon which i stand....
x