..yeah..except i don't really have anything to write about do i?

i live solely to see the way that the silhouettes of the trees cease to exist at 5 oclock in winter, because the darkness of the late afternoon sky swallows them up and spits them out,
and it's all just a mish mash of black and blue and spikes and angles.

cold. cold. cold.
so fucking freezing.

i did it again.
i screamed and i was by myself this time,
crossing the road and i was sweating even though it was so cold and my hands were being chomped on by the wind and i had mud on my coat but my other one was lost somewhere and i crossed the road and i thought if my mum had given me a lift to the station i could have been there by now AND
ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH
i screamed, quite loudly, with accompanying hand gestures,
and i'm starting to think,
maybe this is a problem?
a man with half gloves (some say fingerless, i say half, they're probably not precisely HALF existent, but yeah, i say half) looked around and i don't think he realised that it was me.
and i crossed the road and i looked up and my old hairdressers sat all smug not open yet,
and i remembered the time before school started when he cut my hair wrong,
and i remembered the way my fringe didn't cover my forehead the way i wanted it to,
and argh argh fucking ARGH I REMEMBERED HOW,
IN MY OLD SCHOOL,
WHEN I GOT MY HAIR CUT,
AND IT WAS WRONG,
AND IN MY OLD SCHOOL
MY OLD SCHOOL
MY OLD SCHOOL
IN YEAR EIGHT, WHEN I WAS
TWELVE!!!!!!
SOMEBODY ASKED ME IF I HAD EVER HAD A BOYFRIEND
I WAS TWELVE
SHE WAS TWELVE
WE WERE. TWELVE!!!!!!!!!!
I SAID NO.
WE WERE TWELVE!!!!!!!!!
SHE SAID,
"ARE YOU A LESBIAN?"
WE WERE TWELVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

so then i thought, fucking hell some people are shit,
then at the train station too late
and i think fuck it, the next train gets there just in time,
just in fucking time.
and i sit and it's cold and i read my book and it's cold and i shuffle my feet and it's cold and the numbers on the digital clock fold over themselves and time ticks by and it's cold and madonna you were right, so slowly!

but still.
some people AREN'T shit,
and some theatre troupes are so wonderful,
and some cakes taste so amazing,
and some people's eyes dissapear when they smile,
and sometimes people know all the stops from london waterloo to weymouth off by heart.

so it's okay, i suppose.