certified nut

Around four this morning I decided I would surf the net all night. Why do we have thoughts like this?
It can be twelve at night and I'll think, hey, wouldn't it be great to stay up and watch TV all night.
Then the next morning you feel like crap and realise you spent the night watching crap. I went to bed at 6am.

So, this morning I was woken at 11am by a series of text messages wishing me happy birthday. Stayed in bed until noon.

Got up and did my usual, got onto the sofa for the day. Irene phoned and asked if I'd go out with her and Rob for the afternoon, I agreed.

Forced myself into the bath, got dressed and for a short time I started to look up. Things are not so bad, I'm 29 (34), have a great job, a lovely motorbike, live with Guinea, have some plans... things are ok.

I normally do the same thing most days, put on some jeans and a t-shirt and trainers and go off to work. No make-up and no Jewellery. But today I would change that. Well, okay, a little at a time. I'm wearing jeans and a nice t-shirt but no trainers. Shoes!!! Yes, I do own a pair.

No make-up or jewellery, but one step at a time.

I went downstairs (yes, I left the flat) and picked up my mail. Some cards, an ebay cheque, two parcels from mother and dad. Then...

Something from the landlord, a bill. He's a bit lax on regular electricity bill giving, but to give over a years worth of bills in one day AND a note asking for payment within seven days. A bit much.

Moneywise, I'm not great. I get money from ebay and my job, but I'm a typical human. In debt.

The MOT, tax and insurance is due in April/May and the little I've managed to scrape by is for that. I'm also trying to save enough to get to college in September. This bill has come at the worst time.

D'you think he'd mind if I gave him a post dated cheque?

But then I think, can he do that?

I have to find the money, I don't need to give the pervert an excuse to come knocking on the door.

So then I wasn't feeling too great. Feeling crap actually.

Irene phoned and said they would come over for a coffee, No!!! do they realise how messy the flat is?
She then said we were going to Alexandra Palace, I asked what was there and the response wasn't great. Well, it's a palace and a park and it has some nice views of London. Great, so I get to spend the day in a park on the top of a hill, looking at the a city I can't afford to live in yet can't afford to leave.

But then everything broke, Irene said we could meet at Wood Green, and I started thinking about leaving the flat, having to go outside, catch a bus full of strangers... and I was crying, knowing I couldn't do it. I also was frustrated because to be honest, Ali Pali isn't my ideal place, but I didn't have the courage to tell them that.

But I must leave this flat at some point, I can't spend the whole week locked in here (actually I can).

Okay, better go.

It's my birthday today, probably spend the day sitting on my sofa.
What a crap life!

I took this week off work, was going to take the bike up to Northampton and Nottingham to visit friends. Had it all planned, but as the start of the holiday drew nearer I started to chicken out. What if this isn't agrophobia but just plain depression? whatever it is it is going to ruin my life if I don't sort it out.

I decided not to take the bike up to Northampton, especially since I've not had the courage to ride it for three weeks now (almost four). I decided I would take a train up to Northampton, then another train in the week to Nottingham. But then I remembered their is no way of getting an easy train from Northampton to Nottingham.
So I then decided to make two seperate journeys.
Guinea the Pig (the only man in my life) can survive happily for two days but not a whole week so coming back would suit us better. Especially since I hadn't even sorted out a babysitter for him.

By Sunday I knew I wasn't going anywhere on Monday, I promised myself that I would leave on Tuesday, then Tuesday I promised I would leave on Wednesday. Now it's 2.30am Thursday.

So, happy birthday to me.

I'm 34, they say 40 is the new 30, but not in my house!

I think I will be 29 this year, I've been 27 for a few years now and people are getting suspicious.

If I knew then what I know now I'd have crawled back into the womb. Mind you, if I knew my mother then like I know her now I probably would've crawled into a strangers womb. Why oh why didn't the social workers knock on our door?

I have a temporary moment of excitement about an hour ago. I suddenly thought, why don't I go on the internet and see how much it costs to get the eurostar to Paris. If I can't even get myself to Northampton I've little hope of making that far!