I was going to talk about how great Thailand is and how things are cheap and pretty. But you can get that from a TV show. Which has moving pictures. So that's thousands of words. And how great it is when the TV on the street shows a Franz Ferdinand video and you are the only one to recognise the excellent intro. And how Aqualung was under the Recommended list in a CD shop. But I don't want to talk about that. I wish that I could be more joyful. Or at least sociable, but I really need to be as alone as possible and cry to Still Life. It seems like such a shit thing to say: "oh yeah, I just came back from an excellent shopping holiday despite already being on an excellent shopping holiday and now I'm sad; self-pity-cakes bla bla bla." BUT.

But I've been sensitised lately. I'm not sure what it is. People talking. They sound more shrill than usual. Or angry-sounding. Everyone is so hostile to each other. They get angry at things and each other but afterwards it's as though nothing had happened and I'm the one with the tears in my eyes. I keep thinking about it - character faults,  tone of voice. Looking at it objectively, I shouldn't give a fuck, seeing as I'm leaving in a few days (another cause for sadness?), but I can't change what I think by clicking my fingers and wishing.

I'm still not sure if I'm conveying this well. I am in a flat. Right now I'm on my own in the room with the computer. I had just locked it and unlocked it. There are five, formerly six, other people in the house and I can hear their voices. When they come in, they either knock, which annoys me, or they walk in and leave the door open, which annoys me. My grandma comes in to gently tell me that I shouldn't wear things that show my shoulders or back or chest because people get groped on the MTR. Frankly, I don't give a fuck and I actually avoid people by walking away from them. I'm mostly backed up against a wall, mumbling to myself and people don't like to be near me. And then she comes in again at ask what I am doing and to gently tell me that I should talk to my aunt. I know I should, but I'm also about to burst into tears so I can't. -It's like this with my grandma: I was sleeping with my duvet over my head because it was light; she thought that I was cold and ill. My aunt takes a nap in bed rather than sitting on the sofa because she had taken a shower; she thinks she's ill.-  She might be on anti-depressants. I have to smile. It's easier to lie. Actually, not lying is not an option.

Father, fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off. I'm fucking off.

Everything else seems trivial compared to my heart. They too can fuck off.

<< Fuck off. >>

th since 5th october 2001