Just a few points for those unfamiliar with my journal.

This is a place where I write whatever I feel like whenever I feel like it. It usually expresses my opinions (shocking, I know!). You are always free to not read it.

You are always welcome to disagree with any of the content, just like I am free to disagree with any comment you make.

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Basically, this is my journal, I do as I please, and if you mess with me, I will not be impressed.

I am also a lot whiter and fluffier than I may appear from this post, so please don't be scared away.

Enjoy!

I don't write about every movie I see, but damn, this one's interesting. For the following reasons:

1. It's a musical, and you don't see many of those these days.
2. A very intriguing cast, including Woody Allen, Julia Roberts, quite a young Drew Barrymore (she was 21) and a very young Natalie Portman (she was 15).
3. Written and directed by Woody Allen. I have to admit I've never seen any of his films before, and definitely should.
4. A very good mixture of sadness and fun, including dancing ghosts.
5. An interesting selection of songs, especially "I'm though with love", which I believe was first sung by Marilyn Monroe in "Some Like It Hot".
6. Very very cheesy, perfect for the winter season.

Verdict? I liked it:-) Would watch again.

And were they still like that, she wondered – these new girls, this new generation? Did they still feel one thing and do another? Did they still only want to be wanted? Were they still objects of desire instead of – as Howard might put it – desiring objects? Thinking of the girls sat cross-legged with her in this basement, of Zora in front of her, of the angry girls who shouted their poetry from the stage – no, she could see no serious change. Still starving themselves, still reading women’s magazines that explicitly hate women, still cutting themselves with little knives in places they think can’t be seen, still faking their orgasms with men they dislike, still lying to everybody about everything.

-- Zadie Smith, On Beauty.

"Sometimes you experience emotional attraction, and want a relationship." He paused, pensive. "And sometimes you just gotta feed the animal."

I'm not normally one for mantras, but sometimes a phrase follows me around for a while, prodding me into humming it under my breath. This one is courtesy of Zadie Smith, who wrote "On Beauty", among other things.

Don’t live in a way that makes you feel dead.

It's become my heartbeat, my pain, a hand that grabs my heart and twists it and makes me scream. It resonates slightly with the line from "10 Things I Hate About You": "Don't let anyone ever make you feel like you don't deserve what you want". But this goes deeper than that.

Don't live in a way that makes you feel dead. Don't let people walk all over you. Don't try to be friends with someone just because you think they're cool, when they're not a nice person at all. Don't waste time on people that suck your energy. Don't get bogged down in others' insanity. It's up to you whether to make something your problem. Things you have in your life are there because you put them there - think about it. Don't let others dictate your actions. Don't worry about anything. Don't spend your days doing a job you hate for reasons you don't agree with. Don't for one minute believe that others deserve good things more than you do. Don't let anyone ever make you feel like you don't deserve what you want. Don't do things you don't want to do. Don't spend time on things that make you feel hollow. Don't spend yourself on things that do not matter to you. Don't do things that make your breath fail, that fill you with dread. Don't waste your energy on things that do not bring you joy. Don't live in a way that makes you feel dead.

Don't live in a way that makes you feel dead.

I’ve been meditating on arrogance for the past few weeks.

Let me tell you something. I have been through some shit – not as much as many other people, but enough. I have sustained some physical, mental and emotional mistreatment. And that, and getting over that, made me a lot less inclined to take crap from people. Less likely to believe others are right and I am wrong, less likely to suffer fools. More likely to go after what I want, to demand having my needs met.

I do my best to be kind, loyal and faithful. I do speak my mind often, and demand respect from others – you don’t have to agree with me, but you should damn well respect me and what I have to say. Because I do matter. Not any more than you do, but just as much.

I do speak about things I care about, and try to do something about those things. I try damn hard to be a (wo)man of my word, and expect others to do the same. Moreover, I want to be the best I can possibly be, and again I expect for everything and everyone else to do the same.

I am trying to be who I am, with all the integrity and sense of self that I can muster. Trying to write the script of my life in a way that makes me feel alive, makes my existence worthwhile, makes me exalt in the Universe.

And if any of this makes me arrogant, then, frankly, I can live with that.

My mother has recently been described as "a Force of Nature". The observer had stated this in a tone of awe and horror. Made me think of tornadoes, landslides and other catastrophes.

With time, I am learning to react to things my mother says and does with incredulity, equanimity and amusement, rather than anger. After all, it's not like I can change anything, and nervous cells are not regenerated.

Example: while visiting me this weekend, my mother insisted on looking at my recent photos (I very rarely send her stuff). Her criteria for liking photos became clear: a photo is good if it is a vast landscape and/or is suitable as an illustration for a children's book (in my mother's world, I am going to become a successful children's writer, and will illustrate my books with my own drawings or photographs. The fact that this is not what I want to do is of no importance). Thus all of the mantid photos got vetoed due to being too gory for ickle kiddies, all the macro shots got vetoed due to not being landscapes, and most of my better landscapes got vetoed due to not having enough detail (those were taken on a foggy morning during the sunrise, largely with the purpose of creating dreamy silhouettes).

And this is why you should never care too much about what people think of you or your work.

"So what do you do? You laugh. I'm not saying I don't cry, but in between I laugh and I realize how silly it is to take anything too seriously."
--Garden State

Howard thumped the window lightly and then a little harder. He was having an odd parental rush, a blood surge that was also about blood and was presently hunting through Howard’s expansive intelligence to find words that would more effectively express something like don’t walk in front of cars take care and be good and don’t hurt or be hurt and don’t live in a way that makes you feel dead and don’t betray anybody or yourself and take care of what matters and please don’t and please remember and make sure
‘Hey, Howard? Those windows open only at the very top. Student precaution, ah guess. Suicide proof.’



-- On Beauty by Zadie Smith

I've no idea how it got to 2pm, and all I've accomplished so far today is laundry... I love laundry though - the smell of it, the sorting of stuff into colours and whites, t-shirts and socks, tumble-dry and do-not-tumble-dry... I actually enjoy most housework - doing the dishes, hoovering, the occasional dusting, tidying, organising... Perhaps a sign that I would make a very good housemate/girlfriend/wife someday? You never know...

But today is going to be my writing day - there's a pileup of stuff I need to research and write, and keep not getting around to - courseworks, Weevil, LJ, the occasional e-mail... So today's the day! Made more difficult by the fact that I appear to have injured my right index finger in ninjutsu, which makes typing painful:-S Out comes "Hemp Bump & Bruise Herbal Salve" - let's hope it works... If not, then I need to locate a pharmacy tomorrow and get some Nurofen painkiller gel...

At times like these, when I need to be at my most productive, I wish I had long hair. It's like an equivalent to rolling up your sleeves - gather your hair on the top of your head, fix with a hairband and hey presto - instant working mood. Keep trying to think of an alternative, and not really finding one - any tips?

I am frequently accused of or praised for being arrogant. The general consensus is that being arrogant is bad. Having a high opinion of oneself is bad. Having high self-esteem is bad... And yet people with low self-esteem are told that low self-esteem is bad. What gives? OED to the rescue:


Arrogant: Making or implying unwarrantable claims to dignity, authority, or knowledge; aggressively conceited or haughty, presumptuous, overbearing.
Conceited: 1. Clever, witty, amusing; 2. Opinionated; 3. Having an overweening opinion of oneself, or one's own qualities, etc.; vain.
Vain: Of persons: Devoid of sense or wisdom; foolish, silly, thoughtless; of an idle or futile nature or disposition. Given to or indulging in personal vanity; having an excessively high opinion of one's own appearance, attainments, qualities, possessions, etc.; delighting in, or desirous of attracting, the admiration of others; conceited.
Proud: Having a sense of what befits, is due to, or is worthy of oneself or one's position; characterized by self-respect; feeling or showing a proper pride. Having a high or exalted opinion of one's own worth or importance. Usually in a negative sense: disposed to feeling superior; having inordinate self-esteem; haughty, arrogant.


So... Pride can be both good and bad. Perhaps it is better to have humility, to avoid thinking too highly of oneself?


Humble: Having a low estimate of one's importance, worthiness, or merits; marked by the absence of self-assertion or self-exaltation; lowly: the opposite of proud.


Doesn't sound too good to me...

Interesting question: how do you know whether your opinion of yourself is too high, too low or just right? Self-esteem literally means "your estimate of yourself" - your opinion of yourself, how good you are, how bad you are. But how do you know how closely your estimate approximates reality?


And just to throw another word out there:

Dignity:: The quality of being worthy or honourable; worthiness, worth, nobleness, excellence.

Just throwing this out there: If you fail to respect what women say, you label yourself a problem.

Some people like to do annual reviews at New Year - looking at how the last year has gone, and making plans for the next. To me, that date is almost meaningless. So instead I review where my life is going every year of my life, in a Mia-centric Universe. The new year begins on October 21st, at around 8am. I will no longer be 21...

Being aged 21 was possibly one of the weirdest years of my life, and one with the most changes.

I have applied for an MSc course, got in, and started it.
I graduated from university.
I bought myself an SLR.
I have been working on my photography, and still have a long way to go...
I have been to the USA.
I have quit therapy, twice - that's twice as many times as the year before;-)
I have done a whole summer's worth of full-time work, and earned what is hopefully enough money to fund my food habit for a year.
I have set up a magazine, and organised the production of its first three issues.
I have lost weight - at least 3kg, don't know the exact number.

I saw at least 37 movies (ones I can actually remember, in alphabetical order):
Angels in America
Bend It Like Beckham
Cabaret (1972)
Calendar Girls
The Cat Returns
A Couch in New York
Desperaux
Finding Nemo
Grave of the Fireflies
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
He's Just Not That Into You
Howl's Moving Castle
Interstate 60
Josie and the Pussycats
Juno
Laputa: Castle In The Sky
Life as a House
Little Miss Sunshine
Love Me If You Dare
Memoirs of a Geisha
Midnight Run
My Neighbour Totoro
Nausicaa Of The Valley Of The Wind
Office Space
The Peaceful Warrior
Pom Poko
Princess Bride (although I did fall asleep during that one)
Princess Mononoke
The Science Of Sleep
Spirited Away
Spirit: Stallion Of The Cimarron
Tales From Earthsea
There's Something About Mary
Wall-E
The Wedding Singer
Wild Child
Yes Man


I've read at least sixteen books (again, ones I remember):
"Elizabeth" by Mary Green
"Anthem" by Ayn Rand
"Boating for Beginners" by Jeanette Winterson
"The Wind-up Bird Chronicle" by Haruki Murakami
"Kafka on the Shore" by Haruki Murakami
"One More for the Road" by Ray Bradbury
"The Hard-Boiled WOnderland and the End of the World" by Haruki Murakami
"We'll Always Have Paris" by Ray Bradbury
"Air Ferrets Aloft" by Richard Bach
"Rescue Ferrets at Sea" by Richard Bach
"Writer Ferrets: Chasing the Muse" by Richard Bach
"Rancher Ferrets on the Range" by Richard Bach
"American Gods" by Neil Gaiman
"A Spy in the House of Love" by Anaïs Nin
"Native American Myths"
"Letters to a Young Artist" by Julia Cameron

I got a lot better at dealing with life. I cope with things better now, and don't let them get to me as much. I know a few people got annoyed with me during my last two terms in Cambridge because of how relaxed I was - I had figured out that my mental health meant more to me than my degree, and worked really hard at maintaining that. A lot of work was put into that, sometimes at a cost to study time. Consequently, studying got easier when I was more relaxed and happier about things, so learning to deal with stress in constructive ways, and putting effort into that rather than studying, actually helped my work and meant that I was studying more efficiently. It's a win-win, really.

I got better at human interactions, I think. At least slightly.

And right now I am going to go to bed. Tomorrow I can plot all the things I am going to do aged 22:-)

This applies to God, beauty, good stuff, bad stuff - anything. For instance, if somebody wants for their life to suck, it will. And if it doesn't, you make up bad stuff until it does. After all, we all love feeling sorry for ourselves, don't we?

With beauty, it's interesting. I love to surround myself with beautiful people. Many people I meet, however, are not conventionally beautiful. So I make them up, and remake a picture-perfect version - and then start believing that they really are the most beautiful people in the world. And they are indeed.

This is getting rambly - my brain's not doing well today. So I'll just get to the point:
We are often asked to think of three (or five, or however many) good things that happened today. That is intended to make us grateful for the life we have, and to cheer us up. However, it is often the case that we really can't think of three things, or even one thing. The day is drawing to a close, and it really does feel wasted, painful, upsetting, angering, a million times useless. And if that happens, you just have to fix your part of the Universe. In the last fifteen minutes before calling it a day, do something that makes it worthwhile, something that will make you feel good.

E-mail a friend you've been out of touch with, wax your legs, hang up a poster, write out an inspirational quote on a Post-it and stick it on your diary, tidy your bedside table, paint your nails, go outside to look at the stars, read some poetry, water the plants, hug your teddy bear, get your lunch packed for tomorrow (extra points if you have an awesomely cute bento box), eat a spoonful of ice cream, plan a cute outfit for tomorrow, polish your shoes, put one some music and dance. The recipe differs between people, but the idea is the same - sometimes you just have to make the day awesome if the Universe does not cooperate. Because really, any day can be remedied. You just need to play with it.

I'd like to blame Cambridge, but this phenomenon has been in existence for a lot longer than the last three years. I have a problem, you see.

I have high standards. At least, I have been frequently accused of having those. And I do mean accused - many a guy has expressed pure outrage at the idea of me not wanting to engage in humping activities with them; they all blame my high standards. I'd like to think that as long as I am not hypocritical, and the standards don't impede my life, it's ok to have high ones. It is true that I expect a lot from people. Sometimes it's basic things like thinking. Being respectful. Caring.

I am endlessly disappointed. Major organisations are majorly disorganised, some people that used to be my close friends feel that ignoring my e-mails is perfectly ok, and the moronity of certain humans infuriates me beyond belief.

For instance, education. During the course of said endeavour, one encounters a number of tasks set by lecturers/instructors/teachers. When I am set a task, my first thought is, "Why? What do they expect? What skills am I expected to demonstrate? What are they teaching or testing?"

To me, that seems perfectly sensible, and almost automatic - and probably increases the chances of doing the work well, or at least producing the result that is expected of me. Considering that the person that sets the tasks also frequently marks them, I believe that this is a sensible strategy. Foolishly, I also expect everyone to have figured this out by the time they leave university (if not before).

I say foolishly, because on a daily basis I encounter people that fail to do this. They then proceed to carry out the tasks with the wrong methods. The best case scenario is them completing the task successfully, and obtaining the required result, but without having learnt anything new (i.e. that new skill that the task was designed for, which was the whole point of the exercise). The worst case scenario is them failing to complete the task correctly, and getting marked down, sometimes even without realising why (e.g. "But i've worked so hard on bashing nails with a microscope! It's not my fault this didn't work - I tried really hard! Why was I marked down?" "Well dear, it's because the task was intended to test your use of a hammer").

Perhaps part of the problem is that many get into the habit of seeing each task as an obstacle set in place by the Evil Teachers, who only mean you ill, and which needs to be eliminated by any means necessary. Which means you are highly resistant to learning. Remember, your instructors' job is to get you to learn new skills. Work with them, not against them.

However, for many people, the problem is that it doesn't occur to them to wonder about the purpose of their actions, of others' actions, of the tasks they are set. Which is a shame. Because part of what one can learn at university is the ability to learn efficiently and effectively. One could even argue that this is the most useful skill one does learn.

Some people are just reluctant to use their brains, to think, to consider, to analyse, to wonder. That really is a damn shame.

Maybe it's the hormones talking. Or maybe it's just me. The outcome is the same - I'm debating the pros and cons of hanging myself on a tree brach versus being hit by a train. Again.

My moods to vary, it's true. But instead of varying between good and bad, they oscillate between nothingness and very bad. Sometimes several times a day, or even every half-hour.

I spend some of the time feeling that nothing matters, and that death would be a welcome relief. I just need to wait. The rest of the time I feel that everything is shite, and actively wish for death to come. I really hope that one day I gather the courage to end it all. I already know how, I have it all planned out - I just need to go through with it. Existing for 50 more years is a harrowing thought.

There is nothing in this world that would make life worth bearing.

Faking cheerfulness is exhausting. Having to do that on a daily basis is a necessary chore.

It's true that I'm good at some things. I'm very good at annoying people. I'm good at driving people away. I'm good at being the ugliest person in the world. I'm good at having a boring life, no interests, nothing to talk about except pain. Other things, not so much.

I just want for my existence to cease. I'm going to bed now. The best thing that could possibly happen is for me to never wake up. Please God, if you exist, help me die. Don't make me face another day, the seemingly endless string of days without meaning.

Please make it stop.

So... I'm being indecisive about whether or not to get my hair cut again. Because I was planning on growing it really long, and cutting it would kind of defeat the object. At its current length (shoulder-length-ish), it is quite annoying and doesn't really suit me. After some contemplation, I have summarised the main points:


Getting it cut:
Pros:

- Doesn't get in the way as much
- Suits me (according to me and one friend of mine)
- Quick to dry etc - low maintenance
- I'm used to having short hair
- I'm currently in the area of the salon I normally go to

Cons:

- Expensive: there's only one stylist I trust, and that would cost me around £45
- Needs to be re-cut every six months or so - my hair grows at the rate of around 12-15cm per year, so if I want short hair, I have to get it cut reasonably often
- Negates the point of growing it out in the first place


Growing it some more:
Pros:

- Goes with the feminine stereotype. I'm still having trouble dealing with being female, and longer hair makes me "properly female"
- Really long hair suits me

Cons:

- Annoying
- Current length doesn't really suit me


So.. thoughts? Advice? Please?

For perdrix:
Five words that remind her of me, and what they mean to me.

Quotes

There was one along the lines of "A man quotes another man’s words when he has nothing to say for himself". And sometimes that is true – sometimes it’s easier to remember a quote than it is to think of something to say. I collect quotes. I obsessively bookmark quotes in books I read – sometimes to the extent of measuring the book’s worth by the number of quotable passages. I’ve spoken about quotes here. Remembering quotes also give you keys to people’s minds, piecing together a puzzle of how people think, as applies to the situation at hand.

Quotes are also a useful tool for when you want to appear more intelligent than you really are.


Photographer

I have a thing about nouns. I tend to avoid them like plague. Which also means I can never recall them, and have trouble remembering names. They just feel too solid, too anchor-y, too limiting.

I remember one of my friends telling me "You can’t be an artist, you’re a scientist!" I got rather upset, and a year later, Weevil was born. Now I’m moving away from science and onto something else, and I’m hoping to make photography my career. Does that make me a photographer? I don’t know. At this point, photography is still something I do, not something I am.

Why photography? Because nothing, for me, comes even close to the high I get from watching animals and finding ways to photograph them, to capture their essence in a still image. Because I look at everything as if through a viewfinder – if I were to take a picture, where would I crop it, how would I edit it, what angle should I use, how is the light flowing... Because I spend hours on the Internet looking at other’s work, the lines and the shadows. Because of the way photos never look quite like real life, and yet do – just like to me, reality isn’t real, but is, but isn’t. Because this is something I don’t get tired of or bored with.

And in a few weeks, I'll be embarking on a Masters in Biological Photography and Imaging. Hopefully I will then become a photographer by trade.


Deep

"But I don’t want to be shallow! I want to be deep, like... Like that ice cream cart at the mall, when the ice cream lady is scraping the bottom with the scoop, and her armpits are rubbing on the side, and you’re like oh my god are you gonna give me that!?" – Bridget Hennessy from 8 Simple Rules

Being my usual arrogant self, I like to think that I am deep and meaningful. So I want to have deep and meaningful conversations, deep and meaningful relationships, and suchlike.

I guess it’s one of the benefits of being socially inept – you have all this time to spend on your own in introspection. So I consider philosophy, psychology, spirituality, magic. I feel that shallow people have boring lives. I don’t understand people that never spend time on thought – they’re just doing things, and then doing more things, without ever wondering why we’re here or where we came from or what makes us human or what is important and what is ethical and what is necessary and why God doesn’t make the world a nicer place to be, and what’s the point of things.


Creative

"Try a cake. It's like making a collage from old magazine pictures. You have your ingredients, you throw them together, and presto! You've created something new, something different. Suddenly you're a somebody. You've made a cake!" – Maude from "Harold and Maude" by Colin Higgins.

To a lot of people, being creative means drawing, painting, writing music, writing words. To others (and to me), it’s more about approaching day-to-day life creatively. What to wear, where to walk, how to arrange objects on my desk, how to perform tasks at work, what to eat and how. It helps.


Explorer

Something I am, something I do, perhaps just the way life works. I ask questions. I look at things. I play with things. I seek out new things. I note it all down in my mind’s travel journal, and then keep going...

XI

I AM. I THINK. I WILL.

My hands . . . My spirit ... My sky ... My forest . . . This earth of mine....

What must I say besides? These are the words. This is the answer.

I stand here on the summit of the mountain. I lift my head and I spread my arms. This, my body and spirit, this is the end of the quest. I wished to know the meaning of things. I am the meaning. I wished to find a warrant for being. I need no warrant for being, and no word of sanction upon my being. I am the warrant and the sanction.

It is my eyes which see, and the sight of my eyes grants beauty to the earth. It is my ears which hear, and the hearing of my ears gives its song to the world. It is my mind which thinks, and the judgment of my mind is the only searchlight that can find the truth. It is my will which chooses, and the choice of my will is the only edict I must respect.

Many words have been granted me, and some are wise, and some are false, but only three are holy: "I will it!"

Whatever road I take, the guiding star is within me; the guiding star and the loadstone which point the way. They point in but one direction. They point to me.

I know not if this earth on which I stand is the core of the universe or if it is but a speck of dust lost in eternity. I know not and I care not. For I know what happiness is possible to me on earth. And my happiness needs no higher aim to vindicate it. My happiness is not the means to any end. It is the end. It is its own goal. It is its own purpose.

Neither am I the means to any end others may wish to accomplish. I am not a tool for their use. I am not a servant of their needs. I am not a bandage for their wounds. I am not a sacrifice on their altars.

I am a man. This miracle of me is mine to own and keep, and mine to guard, and mine to use, and mine to kneel before!

I do not surrender my treasures, nor do I share them. The fortune of my spirit is not to be blown into coins of brass and flung to the winds as aims for the poor of the spirit. I guard my treasures: my thought, my will, my freedom. And the greatest of these is freedom.

I owe nothing to my brothers, nor do I gather debts from them. I ask none to live for me, nor do I live for any others. I covet no man's soul, nor is my soul theirs to covet.

I am neither foe nor friend to my brothers, but such as each of them shall deserve of me. And to earn my love, my brothers must do more than to have been born. I do not grant my love without reason, nor to any chance passer by who may wish to claim it. I honor men with my love. But honor is a thing to be earned.

I shall choose my friends among men, but neither slaves nor masters. And I shall choose only such as please me, and them I shall love and respect, but neither command nor obey. And we shall join our hands when we wish, or walk alone when we so desire. For in the temple of his spirit, each man is alone. Let each man keep his temple untouched and undefiled. Then let him join hands with others if he wishes, but only beyond his holy threshold.

For the word "We" must never he spoken, save by one's choice and as a second thought. This word must never be placed first within man's soul, else it becomes a monster, the root of all the evils on earth, the root of man's torture by Men, and of an unspeakable lie.

The word "We" is as lime poured over men, which sets and hardens to stone, and crushes all beneath it, and that which is white and that which is black are lost equally in the grey of it. It is the word by which the depraved steal the virtue of the good, by which the weak steal the might of the strong, by which the fools steal the wisdom of the sages.

What is my joy if all hands, even the unclean, can reach into it? What is my wisdom, if even the fools can dictate to me? What is my freedom, if all creatures, even the botched and the impotent, are my masters? What is my life, if I am but to bow, to agree and to obey?

But I am done with this creed of corruption.

I am done with the monster of "We," the word of serfdom, of plunder, of misery, falsehood and shame.

And now I see the face of god, and I raise this god over the earth, this god whom men have sought since men came into being, this god who will grant them joy and peace and pride.

This god, this one word:

“I.”





/from "Anthem" by Ayn Rand.

This isn't a time in my life. It's a time in between lives - one that I had for the last three years, and sabotaged, and hated, and ran away from, and that is still in boxes around my room - and the other that will start in a couple of months that I don't believe in the reality of, and that terrifies me.

Right now there is no life. There is no me. I don't exist. My time does not belong to me - not just because I have many things to do, and very little free time, but because I'm constantly told what to do. When to eat, what to eat, how to eat, how to tie my shoes, what to say, what not to say, where to be, when to breathe. I don't exist here, I'm not alive - just a machine, an automaton, playing the roles required of me. I should be glad that I only have two more months to go, but I don't really believe in the next year.

My problem isn't that I'm envisaging a negative future, but that I have truoble imagining any kind of future. I've no idea what I'd like to happen. I don't know what I want or why. I feel like winter - curling up in a bed with a hot drink and a book to hide from the world, from people, from reality. I can't live, I can't function, because I don't know how to. I don't believe in the future, I can't imagine the lack of the off switch. The world was meant to click out of existence the moment I graduated. Or the moment before I start grad school. Any moment is good, just get it over with. I can't find the switch - where is it?

I don't know how to live, I'm ill-equipped for life, for this world where everybody speaks a different language, where I'm meant to want things and do things, and go on to do other things. Work, rent, relationships, salary, shops, sex, clothing, pension funds, transport, paperwork, accommodation, food - I don't belong here, I never have; I'm not in the same plane of existence, and I don't want to be. I just want to disappear, or for everything else to disappear. I need for the world to end, or for me to vanish. I don't understand anything, I don't know what to do or how to manage, and I don't want to know.

Please, let me get out of here.

Subject:
ahmm jjg ohvo boeabj ren

Message body:
qrel nta positmmsjion
gnothe vovbopart
you abj by renb
youerkyme cvofrom tjdmmtart.
Illbeihoah beuhrfore umje.
beiuqr pouncelxnpony.
thisahmceremony
sjj filnohvlsmy vboea. a punjmrench toy voferkylunteer kcvonee.
is jdmmalu waihoahnt tohuhrear
aumjend aiuqryou wlxnsee.





Any bright ideas?