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[ Personal Narratives ]


Dear Friday night,

What gives? Wait, too polite – what the actual fuck? Why am I sitting here in briefs and a cardigan, marooned (harpooned? – fitting), with a half eaten chinese takeaway, having watched two episodes of Eastenders and not out and about gallivanting around town, making endless friends and just being generally effortlessly gives-a-fuck incredible? I mean, for fucks sake, I’ve just found substantially sized prawn cracker dust in my hair.

Is it me? Am I boring now? I feel boring. I feel like I haven’t had fun in ages. I think that I was drunk the last time I had fun, and that was 3 weeks ago. Coincidence? I think not! I’m great on the drink – so much fun. I was on top form – I went to that party, and then to my friends house, and woke up having pissed myself on the sofa when I hadn’t even been drunk the night before and i was so angry, and sad and embarassed, and had to get the train home with food poisoning cos of dodgy KFC in Balham that I had had at 3am.. You genuinely haven’t lived until you have projectile vomited into a plastic bag, and down yourself, on the South Eastern service from Victoria to London Bridge. I would say been there and got the t-shirt, but I had to throw it away shortly after so….

Remind me again why I’m single? Or why I’m doing this?

‘This’? Ah yes, my not drinking for 3 weeks… I’ve got that half marathon on Sunday, which will probably take place in the rain, and will probably involve my ipod breaking 10 minutes into a 12 mile run, and I’ll probably finish last and the world will swallow me whole, but it won’t and I’ll get keep wrenching myself from hobby-to-hobby-that-isn’t-drinking, trying to find a niche – something to discuss at those those sober dinner parties I’ll now have time to throw, at my creative writing class that I want to joining to give me my ‘new outlet’ (i remember the good old days when I used to get drunk and throw things as an outlet – *rose tinted glasses sigh*), or when I meet strangers at the farmers market/library/park on Saturdays after i’ve been to the gym at 6am obviously because that’s my life now, right?

I feel reclusive. It hurts. It is bottomless, and at the same time shallow, it is insignificant but concurrently totally consuming, and its a feeling so familiar, and still so foreign. Haha, wanky much? Apologies – you must have confused me with someone who gives a shit. It is apathetic activism of the worst kind, as opposed to the kind that is obviously totally progressive. I want to scream, and get angry and throw things and shout at people because they did nothing wrong and I’m furious about it.

Get out of my face.

I’m so tired. I don’t know why. I am overwhelmed with anger – I have punched 4 walls this week, elbowed one and considering headbutting another. Why am I so frustrated? Who do people annoy me so much?

I think it’s because they look like they are having fun. I feel that i’m trying to do something positive, but my actions are attacking me. Is that positive? Is that how that feels? I’ve only ever taken the destructive path for the last 10 years – is this what it feels like for me to acknowledge that I am an adult and to take responsibility?

Is this what it is like for ever?

Is it better to life a full and fast life, or a long and emptier one? I guess no-one ever really gets to make that call – its not like you can do both.

Is this actually all there is? I’m so bored I could cry.

Can I shout at someone? Please? Anyone will do. I just want to scream at you until all the blood vessells have bust in my face, until I am so out of breath I am doubled over, and until I am done and all my rage is spent.

Rage is a a currency I used to spend on drinks, and now I don’t know where I can change it. I want to be good, I want to behave and get better, and do well at my job and have shit loads of cash and a six pack, but I’m so tired and I don’t know why? i haven’t had a drink for 3 weeks and normally when I feel like this it is alcohiol related – big tuesday night, drinks-gone-somber on a Thursday, waking up on a park bench on a sunday morning with no oyster card, or cash.

So why now?

Why does it now have to be difficult? Is it wrong to ask for a break? Is it self-involving, self indulgent or too self-righteous? Should I have to ask your opinion?

How long does ‘patience’ cover? How long is a ball of string? Ha, I just made myself laugh out loud – good to know i can make myself laugh on a Friday night in with, ahem, just myself for company.

I’m not going to apoloigse for this post and its self-serving tone, because as ridiculous as I know I am being, why shouldn’t I be allowed to express how I feel? Why should I have to temper everything with rationale?

Can I for once just not give a reason, or explanation? It’s not like I ever received one, so fair fucks right?