Same shit, different day. Pathetic story of my so called life. Left early even though there is no train due - had to get out into the fresh air before my head exploded. What does anything mean. I feel like a walk tonight. I might get the train all the way to Charing Cross and walk to Kings Cross. That should calm me down a bit. Constant desperation is wearing me down. Still quarter of an hour until the train - why did I come down so early? Why do I ever do anything? Poor impulse control. I envy your demise. No stars in the sky tonight. Breeze is cool. Soothing. Was a clumsy twat again today - had a carton of drink and it leaked - turning the chest of my shirt a bright shade of pink. Bloody typical. Ugly on the outside, rotten on the inside. Tightness in my chest is getting too much - time for a rest.
Monday, 23 August 1999
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