'Just Stop Coz I've Had Enough'

I'm running out of things to say, and ways to feel and I'm nervous. I feel as though life is 24/7 treading on egg shells and as though time is running out. July is less than a week away and I'm not over June. I'm getting tattooed today and then have to go to work, regardless of the fact that I'd booked it off. It appears my boss not only has the inability to answer a telephone or arrange flowers but also has forgotten how to read a date book. I need another job. Preferably one where my job title isn't 'doormat'.


I went running this morning and two women were talking about the death of Michael Jackson so loud that I could hear them over Jawbreaker. I wanted to backtrack and slap them around the face.

Provocation and Pick'n'Mix

On evaluation of just exactly what citation I know for my Law exams this week it's official that I'm going to sit down at the desk, open the paper and know absolutely nothing. Forget the fact that on and off I've been revising the reams of bullshit since late March, it's come to a head at this point and it turns out that my head is empty. I have absolutely nothing to offer the examiner tomorrow except the names of the legal clauses. I am literally having a subconscious panic attack. I genuinely believe that in a bid to not break down entirely this past month my brain has thrown everything I need to know out of my ears and replaced it with the strength to make it through the day without wanting to top myself.

Honestly, it's a relief mum is bringing me back some sweets any minute now because I'm a fizzy cola-bottle away from spontaneous combustion. If it were to happen she could probably look to receive compensation against the exam bored for psychiatric injury as a secondary victim. Although she would need to qualify the control mechanisms so she had best make sure she's here to see me go up in smoke.

'I'm just a clown, but you can sit beside me when the world comes down'.

Being Fund-less is Fun-less

I wish I didn't owe so much money. I'm making plans to travel this summer only to be informed that 'You aren't galavanting anywhere until you pay the money you owe me off'. Nothing hits below my metaphorical belt harder than an assertion of the fact that I might be saddled to here all summer and then the next three years (pending exam success) without partially fledged freedom. So my pledge is to do everything and anything to make some serious dollar. ANYTHING.

It doesn't help that I just keep planning to spend money I don't have on other things. I saw my tortoise hatchlings the other day: I'm calling them Herman and Hermione regardless of gender, I need to buy more comics and literature before I become a complete illiterate babbling mess and lose my capacity to formulate extended writing and I've accepted the fact that Harriet's gift I ordered online just isn't coming so I'll purchase another. The irony of the word 'purchase' is I'm the only one 'chasing' my pennies. One week of exams down and one more to go, my medication doesn't seem to be working as I'm back to sleeping most the day and it seems I find more motivation in staring at the wall than I do actually studying. Oh the trials and tribulations of being eighteen and so close to Summer break that I can touch it.

I desperately need a hair cut, might just attempt it myself.

Frailty, Thy Name is Woman

It appears I am only able to sleep life away when I want to cherish it the most. I can only remember vividly what I want to forget. I'm sick and tired of waking up everyday and not knowing what to do or say. I'm heart sick and I'm lost and increasingly everything surrounding me is turning into all that I hate. I'm drowning in mind-maps and flash cards and the whole prospect of the 2 hour and 15 minute literature exam today makes me feel physically sick. It's mind-bending how the next three years of my life depend on my ability to assess why the audience of Hamlet has sympathy for the protagonist. I couldn't give a third fuck quite frankly.

I get this feeling that I'm making wrong decisions all the time, I'm desperate and I'm being a whiney little bitch, it's an annual thing when exams come around but it all seems to be heightened and up in my grill this time. I wouldn't want to be around me right now, and I don't want anyone to be. Except maybe Harriet, she makes me laugh so much my sides hurt and come close to spraying the contents of a Mcflurry all over the dashboard of my car. I yearn for someone to give me the answers before I become bitter and twisted and alone. Oh wait.

Life is one daunting prospect when I find salvation in my own isolation.

This Is My War

I started off on a good road revising this week but it fell behind by Wednesday and now I am back to procrastination in its prime. I went to a summary class for Literature today and spent the hour on my Blackberry. I'm desperately looking for the metaphorical switch in my head to turn my whole 'drive in life' process back on but there is more chance of me finding a tumor or maybe the full lyrics for the Spice Girls album or NSYNC. In evaluation of taking A-level exams the fuckbrains paid to conjure up said bullshit clearly have no respect for short-lived youth or the fact that fucking no one would ever want to sit 4 essay questions in three hours. When did they ever think that would be a good idea? I fucking hate how irrational life is.

My current fucked up outlook on existence means I find everything annoying. I don't understand how just deciding not to talk to someone achieves anything, I also believe age is a completely disregardful factor in someone's maturity because the majority of people of age I know who could do with growing up don't even know they're born. I know the Conservative party are going to win the election campaign too, anybody who doesn't see this is seriously misconceived, either way I used to love how election brings misguided political bullshit out of people's mouths but this year I can't handle it, I've heard enough theorists to embark on a political Illuminati and they all spout complete and utter dish water. I'd hear more sense out of a used condom.

If I read or hear or see one more thing on Britain's Got Talent I'm going to personally go out of my way to hurt someone. It's fucking over, why the nation wasted their time watching that bullshit on TV when the taxpayers' money will probably be spent putting on the Royal Variety show for Britain's washed up Monarchy and it's vegetated Queen is beyond me. I wish everybody would get a fucking grip.

I'm 24/7 raging, booked a new tattoo though.