Don't get lost in the dark, when you shine. So shine. So shine. So shine.

I'm finding there just aren't enough hours in the day.
And when I leave work and arrive back here, at my parents' house, I find myself not wanting to do anything.
I'd much rather just sit around with myself for company, along with a background soundtrack, of course.
Lately, I've been thinking about Jewel, my cat who left one night through her catflap, never to return. Ten days before I was about to move into my own place.

I'm currently having battles with The Company I work for, a lettings agency, my Bank Manager and my doppleganger. No wonder I'm feeling so drained lately.

I really don't want to be chemically dependant for the rest of my life. Just thinking about that brings me down.

How do you cope with feelings that twist your mind. There's no logic to them. Their foundations have major flaws and when it all comes crashing down, where do I stand?
Underneath it?
Beside it?
A million miles away from it?

Friends aren't supposed to fuck you over. Even when....no....especially when it's dark.

One more drink and I'll be fine. One more girl to take you off my mind.

I'm not crazy anymore. It's official!

I feel fine.
Better than fine.
Life is still dealing me daily challenges, but I can deal with them.

I need a tent and a spacehopper for August.

The Guinness Book Of Records beckons.

I still sigh sometimes though. Yano....Sigh....

Run away from all your boredom, run away from all your whoredom and wave your worries and cares goodbye.

"You are just....ordinary!"
That's what I was told today.
How fucking insulting!

I wrote a letter that I never mailed. I rehearsed the dialogue in my head. In case you ever want to track me down, I'll take myself home to bed.

Dear bedshaped,

What's happened to you man!? Seriously, you've let your guard slip in so many ways recently, you're almost transparent. Put the brakes on that right now, sir! You're better than that.
Better, better, better.
Stop worrying about what other people think of you! It never used to bother you. Flipping around place to place, time to space, you're philosophy was always to cast aside other people's judgements. So why, all of a sudden do they whispers bother you so much?!
You've lost focus.
So, listen up:

• Serve those fuckers final notice to stop them from living in your house, rent free for the last three months. Then when they are finally out, smarten the place up and then cut that noose from around your neck by selling up. For whatever you can get. Take the hit if you have to. Just be rid of it.

• Get yourself as debt free as humanly possible, given your 'situation'. Pay back, pay back, pay back!

• Stop trying to live like a Vamp and get some damned rest. You're burning yourself out, fella.

• Cast aside all these silly notions you have about what others think of you. Chance are you're completely wrong in your assumptions, besides the fact that....really, do you think that other people really give that much of a fuck about you? I doubt it very much.

• Change jobs. C'mon....you know you ain't gonna stick around there much longer. Stop waiting for the call, and instead make it!

• Learn to say "No" to people. It doesn't offend them anywhere near as much as you think it does. In fact, they 're fine about it. No harm done, right.

•  Stop trying to save the world!

• Make some plans, get some focus....start some cogs turning to move out of that fucking house!

• Stop talking to yourself!

Love
bedshaped x

Well, it's laughter that comes up when I cry for you. And my heart may break again before it learns. And I might be stupid enough to want to fall again. Cause I've gotten used to the crash and burn.

I'm sat here listening to the latest release by Eels.

It's making me feel really, really sad.


And he's absolutely bang on with squaring up to people's emotions.
To most it makes no sense, or at least takes on an agenda of its own.
He shows us all how it's done,
Peels his skin back to reveal his bare bones,
And rises above the sorrow, taking flight.
Taking flight.

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air. I know I can count on you.

I fear my laptop may be about to give up the ghost.
During boot-up, it laughs in my face with three Error messages, none of which I can find ways to repair them.
Oh dear.
Maybe now is a good time to try and back up the music files which are spread over the split drives. And I can file the back ups alongside the others that I already did from my PC. The others that I boxed away somewhere and have forgotten where they are.
If my laptop dies, or maybe I should say when, I wonder if it will be time to dust off my old tower and try to piece together my old faithful PC. Fingers crossed it should fire up, although I will have to find/borrow a monitor from somewhere because I kinda gave my old one away, since I wasn't using it.

You have served me so well, my dear laptop. And you didn't cost me a damned penny! Please hold on as long as you possibly can. I'd really appreciate that.

You shower me with lullabies, as you're walking away. Reminds me that it's killing time, on this fateful day.

I don't know how she does it.
And I hate the fact that she even has to.
The guilt would tear me apart.

I don't feel like we're synchronized at the moment.
And it scares me.

We took the town to town last night. We kissed like we invented it.

Bollocks.

You're such a beautiful freak. I bet you are flying inside. Duck down and then go for cover.

Genuis writer David Mills has died at the age of 48.
Fourty fucking eight!

Some things are just so messed up in this world.

Mr Mills, sir.
I salute you and want to thank you for The Wire. One of the best TV shows ever.

Rest In Peace x.