Monday, 16 August 2010

Sometimes it takes an almost-six-year-old boy to say it.

"Look at this, look at this... THIS IS DISGUSTING!" (Raises t-shirt and breathes in so that all his ribs show) "You can see my bones and it's GROSS" (Hysterical laughter).
-Harry Duff.




Stuff's moving, I feel like I'm almost living in the real world. Sort of. I went to Manchester on Saturday and had a really brilliant time- it turns out that it's not normal for men to presume that they can just come up to you and put their hands in your knickers on the dancefloor. Molestation being an (awful, but) expected part of a night out is purely a Scunthorpe thing. But then I came back down to life and ruined the buzz on the Sunday; I flipped. It was horrible, I felt odd all morning and then in the middle of a shopping centre I had that sensory thing, you know when your senses are suddenly heightened and every noise vibration physically hurts and everything's too bright and colours too vivid and you're massively paranoid and the speed and viscosity of the atmosphere is... warped, like the video to Ray of Light and then like wading through treacle? It was all I could do not to sit on the floor and to scream and scream and scream. So I left pretty sharpish, train home and weekend over.

But that was that. The real world. Oh, and leading on from my last blog, Dr Wanker is no longer my esteemed doctor; I genuinely think, probably because I'm terminally arrogant, that I had a hand in getting him fired. I now have another bloke, who I saw on Thursday and who thinks I'm relapsing (into what, I have no idea) and has upped my meds and put me on happy pills. I've sorted bits for uni- accomodation and the such. I did a medical questionaire so I can register with the doctor down there, which made me giggle because my medical history just for the last 12 months is vast. I still haven't bought anything practical and I daren't check my account, but still. I'm doing things, I'm being practical. I realised today how different things are now to where they were last year; it's A-Level results day on Thursday (obviously not for me, since I didn't do any exams this year) and on results day last year I was given an hour out of hospital to go collect them and then spent the night crying because I just really wanted to be drunk. Very different.

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