sacrament of reconciliation
2003-01-04 || 11:28 a.m.

Sorry, I feel an entry coming on. It's going to be random shit I'm afraid. My throat and chest are burning and I feel well spaced out indeed.

I've got that Distillers song in my head, just that bit that goes 'My name is Brodie...' and shit I think I could sing like her at the moment. Oh if only I could get my scanner working I could put up a picture of me when I used to look like that. Well, I didn't have quite the individual spikes that she does, but good old soap sure does spike your hair well. Mix that with a bit of backcombing and there I was, pretender to the Siouxsie throne.

I must take down my decorations today. I took the cards down yesterday. Some of them were on the back of the front door. When I went to take them down they were all wet. Is is normal for the rain to soak through your front door? I don't know. I really do hope I don't need to get a new front door. The insurance companies do nasty stuff to you like suddenly raise your premiums if you mess with anything at all.

Dylan is still limping and on dog bed rest! Which basically means I can't take him for long walks, or let him run or throw things for him to fetch. I'm worried about him. The vet did not know why he was limping and just guessed at a pulled muscle but he is getting worse and it does not help when my mum comes round and just does her normal 'put me down'. Laughing at my concerns and saying things about him putting it on for attention. Fuck it. He is NOT putting in on for attention. What is it about me that makes her put me down all the time? No. Stop. No mum rant, its just too much.

I think Alain may come round later today. He rang Rebecca yesterday. He came round on Boxing day last week and flirted with me constantly. He kept saying to me to go and have a bath. I can't even remember what outfit it was he seemed to think I was going to put on but I hate that. I always did. Go put this underwear on. No! Fuck it. I'm not about external decorations. Jesus I could be anyone if its just the underwear you are concerned with.

And so why I have no boyfriend is plain to see.

Mind you, I let him in when I was in the bath, got him to take down the shower curtain, wash it and put it back up. Yes, I know. I am a terrible, terrible person. A bitch. Why am I writing this here? I want my public to love me.

Fuck.Why can't there just be someone who likes me for me?

I'll get my coat.