I gave in.

I made a Tumblr.

I feel so guilty and hypocritical but it had to be done.

www.weexhaleandrolloureyesinunison.tumblr.com

I'm sorry.

they'll name a city after us and later say it's all our fault

It's half four in the afternoon. I'm sitting in my Deerhunter t-shirt and pink shorts with the word "Zzz" printed across them- i.e. my pyjamas- and reading yet another Kurt Vonnegut book (Hocus Pocus) with my new Broken Social Scene album playing for the first time. This is what I spend my time doing when I'm not with him.

I need to get a life. No wonder I bore him.

Went to Camden yesterday. Too little time, too little money and too much ignorance of the place to know where to go and what to buy/do. I put money towards some vinyl. I don't have vinyl player but he does although it's in need of a new needle. We bought Lotus Plaza by Lockett Pundt, the guitarist of Deerhunter, for a tenner. Hmm if I can be bothered later I might go searching for my dad's old collection of vinyl. I swear I could have spent hours in that record shop. I wish I'd taken more photos.

We did however, make a rather startling discovery that I did catch on camera:

There's a Jewish museum. In the middle of Camden. What?

I had a dream last night. The type where you wake up and think it's real, that this is just the day after those events happened. It took me a while to realise it was a dream. I can tell when things are dreams because I can't see people's faces in dreams, I just know instinctively who they are. My head gets their shape right, their hair, their angles, but when it comes to their faces it's just blank. It's just a recognition of a person not an actual person. It never is.

I dreamt he ended it and then treated me the same way as he does now anyway and I was confused and hurt and didn't understand why he stopped it when we were the same as we always are. I thought he was different from all the dicks who played my friends, those who treated them as if they cared and then refuse to acknowledge it.

I woke up and thought we were over.

Then in the fuzzy haze of regaining intelligent conciousness I vaguely grasped that that wasn't true.

Ten months.

Fuck.

pack up all the night's dreams, only to drag them out again

Underage was better last year but Los Campesinos! did a good set, although they were only given a half an hour slot. In comparison to the hour long slot by Jacwob who were utter shit this seems rather unfair. Fucking Jacwob.

Everything seems so forced at the moment. We need to think of something to do, we need to go somewhere, blah, blah, blah. Can't we just be spontaneous? Can't we be lazy and have lie-ins and watch bad movies and bake burnt cakes and take photos of the most mundane things? Can't we sit in parks and drink cider and talk about nothing? I had ideas of things to do but when I'm put on the spot all I want to do is curl up and be quiet. Sorry. I know it bores you. It makes me feel bad too. I've been in too many situations where I feel like I'm not enough for some people.

I think for my depression idea I might do photographs where the subject's face is always hidden, showing how they feel unseen, undervalued, faceless. Should be quite easy to do and there's a variety of things I can do with that. I got the idea from photos such as this:

I bloody love water shots but they're almost impossible to do. I can't take photos at swimming pools and I don't have a camera that can go underwater. I should get one.

I've been spending too much time on people's Tumblr's. It's starting to appeal to me.

Not cool.

so he went crazy at nineteen, said he lost all his self esteem and couldn't understand why he was cry-cry-crying

I almost cried on the train and then felt like the biggest douche ever.

I was sitting listening to my iPod and the annoyingly serene announcer's voice cuts through my music just to say the same things that were scrolling across the mini electronic board that tells you where the train stops at etc. So that bugged me a little.

So I started pondering why they always blast that irritating voice over a sea of people who are worn out and tired and just want a piece of quiet.

Time passed. I watched people.

We pulled into a station and I noticed a man with his back to me had a weird sling sort of thing around his waist that looked like it carried a baton or something. Maybe he was an undercover policeman? He wasn't in uniform or anything.

He pulled an extendible walking stick out from it. Everyone who was getting off at that stop had left as he tapped his stick against the floor of the train. Grasping the handle to the side of the train doors he stepped on the the platform. He was walking with eyes closed.

The announcer. Well it's for blind people isn't it? They can't read the electronic boards or watch the stations flash past the train windows.

He looked so vulnerable, so disconnected from everything.

I was slightly stunned momentarily at how stupid and blundering I am.

Then I started noticing people in the train properly.

The frankly overweight woman sat in front of my mother had a hearing aid and a tattoo on her shoulder of a smiley face.

The man a few seats along handed food to his haggard wife who was sat behind a pram, despondent to everyone.

The asian woman on the other side of the carriage to me rested her head on her boyfriend's shoulder, stretching out her slender neck whilst craning to look through text messages on her phone, smiling slightly to herself. He didn't glance at her once.

I was sitting outright staring at strangers. And I nearly cried. I am a shallow, self-indulged shell compared to people like these. I'm an average teenage girl. If my life so far was a book it would be flipped through on a whim then put back on the shelf. These people were well worn, spines cracked, pages bent in the corners, everything.

The woman opposite me stared back. She was old. Probably in her sixties or seventies. She was thin. Really thin, with a severe haircut. And covered in lines. She was a smoker. You could tell from the lines that crept towards her mouth, down-turned in a sneer at my vacant face. Obviously the wealthy type, tough skinned, hard to crack... snooty. I didn't like her. She would be the type of book that left a bitter taste in my mouth after.

Maybe I have a few stories of my own.

I hate making myself vulnerable for you. But I'm glad that out of everyone I could love, I ended up with you.

Day Six

A picture that inspires you

I didn't forget the photo-challenge.

you pretend that it's alright to wait up half the night, he can't be bothered to phone, you spend another night alone

I must be the most lame person in England right now.

I'm sitting in front of the computer, eating Coco Pops out of the box whilst watching old episodes of Derren Brown back to back on 4od.

I'm not even hungry.

It's half twelve- why have I not just fucked off to bed yet?

At least I didn't spend my whole day doing this.

I got my haircut; now I have a bit more of a fringe.

Oh and I let a friend take photos of me for her own photography project.

I quite like this one she did.

I said, "there's nothing I can do for you, you can't do for yourself", he said, "oh, yes you can, just hold my hand, I think that that would help"

There's a ladybird in my room!

I love ladybirds and have only just realised I've never seen one in my house before even though an array of, let's say, more unpleasant insects, seem to take to my abode well; spiders, moths, even ants.

I tried to take a picture of it for you. My digital camera's zoom was being a twat and I tried standing on a chair to get closer which then swivelled viciously- as viciously as a chair can swivel- and almost resulted in me breaking something (most likely, my leg). So I ended up standing on my desk which was bending under my weight and got these photos.

They're the best you're going to get and you should be grateful for the stupid efforts I went to getting this picture.

The ladybird's gone now.

I'm wasting my life aren't I?

Fucking hell.

I wouldn't change one stupid decision for another five years of life

I missed one of the buses I take to get home from the park. I walked the twenty minute journey home and stared blankly at the surprising amount of pervy men that leered out of their cars at me. It would have been alright if I had my iPod with me but I didn't.

I don't like long walks very much. It makes me think too much.

She was very loud and overbearing today. I would have liked to have talked to him too but my words were lost a bit beneath her drunken shrieks.

No, I don't have much reason to be depressed. But that doesn't make me a wannabe? What is it that I would want to be in the first place? Do you think depression is an image? I just get depressed randomly, there's nothing I can do to help it really. It's fucking annoying.

I would have liked to have talked about all the pretentious shit he verbalises so well. It's not that people like us try and be deep or whatever (I personally hate being referred to as deep, it just sounds so mocking) but, well, after a few drinks, it's nice to talk to people you used to be close to. It would just be nice to see how life was treating him nowadays. I should probably talk to him more.

Apart from the end, today wasn't that good. I stole whiskey from my parents' alcohol cabinet, bitched a lot, puzzled over a crying friend who I didn't get the chance to find out what was wrong with, played cards, sat on a wasp (yes, really), tried hauling myself over a wire fence whilst being stung by nettles, got bitten by midges, got stamped on and ended up slinking away from the group of people to catch the bus by myself after having three different people promise to catch the bus with me.

My next photo challenge thing is lame. A picture that inspires me. Too wide a spectrum, I'm afraid. Don't expect me to put that one up in any rush.

I will, however, leave you with this picture of the ceiling in the throne room of the Alhambra in Granada, Spain. Insane arabic mosaics.

given the option of dying painlessly in peace at forty-five, but with a lover at your side, after a full and happy life

My day has been thoroughly unproductive to say the least. I slept for most of it, uploaded some photos to Facebook, eventually went to Sainsburys with my dad and bought Vogue. It's a happy indulgence for photographers I suppose, those who like fashion at least. It's a good source of editorial photographers and models. And style, of course. It makes me ache for new clothes annoyingly enough. I think I'm going shopping soon so it's fine, it's fine.

The girl on the cover is called Freja Beha Erichson. She's Danish. I quite like her. Josh Olins who was the photographer took some lovely shots of her. This one (aside for being really out of focus- apologies) is one of my favourites.

Actually, I take back that apology for the focus, I think it adds to it in fact. I had to program my camera to have no flash so as to get the colours I like and that's why it's so blurred. But yeah, I like it anyway.

It smells awfully nice in my study at the moment. My sister bought some cherry body butter from the Body Shop and left it in here.

It was her birthday yesterday.

I forgot to get her anything. Oh well.

He got very drunk last night. Dangerously so. He kept trying to lurch into the road when I was sitting on the curb with him, yelling "I want to just fucking die" and then collapsing on my shoulder sobbing. I was the only person there. We came outside to get signal. No one could find us for a while and he wouldn't stand up. He wouldn't move from the side of the road. It scared me a little.

By the time I left everything was starting to seem slightly surreal.

I was sat outside pointing out the Big Dipper in the night sky and dancing to Mos Def whilst he got violent with random people and begged to borrow someone's phone. He must like her a lot. A lot, a lot.

Small things trigger the most nostalgic thoughts.

In a year I can give up school all together if I wanted. It's been four years at my school. Four.

I still remember meeting her for the first time at the bus stop on our first day of senior school, my mum and sister in tow. My sister was on crutches. She broke her leg jumping off a stage at summer camp.

I'm not nearly grown up enough to stop school.

I can't look after myself at all, I can't even cook pasta because ever since I burnt soup I've been too wary of my cooking attempts to even bother going near the oven. If there's no one around to feed me I just don't eat.

And yet, all I've wanted to do for the past four years is leave this house. I want my own place. I want independence.

The only way to go about it would be to have a roommate. I know who I would love it to be.

Oh yeah, another wave of nostalgia. Him being away is reminding me of when I used to be single. I don't know how I coped without anyone to talk to. That's how the nights used to go. Sat in front of the computer doing fuck all (or homework). It's weird. I feel a bit lost.

you make me lazy but I love you

Day Five

A picture of your morning

Today is day one of my summer holidays and this is how I spent it: in bed. I was going to go to Camden today but my plans got messed up.

He's away for a week.

Expect lots of bored/depressed/annoyed posts in the forthcoming days.

their souls are crumblin' like a dirt clawed hole

Day Four

A picture of where I went today

I'm still slightly tipsy but I wanted to stick to my photo challenge- thingy.

I went to the Downs and met up with old friends and met new people too which was fun. I went to school too but school is boring, you don't really need to hear about that.

you always went for my friends and not for me

I think I'm losing it.

I can think properly anymore.

It's like every single emotion has been bottled up like a bung in a test tube and the unlabelled solution is forcing its way between the gap of the two pieces of equipment. Pressure in my temples building up shows how violent it's getting.

I don't know what I'm thinking half the time.

I forget how I get to places. I just walk and walk and I'm not even there.

I stare at space and watch dust particles with a blank face.

Raw instinct is all that is pushing me forwards, keeping my legs moving, keeping my eyes tracking.

I've stopped thinking.

I'm back to being numb again. I shove things into my head to try and occupy empty spaces. Read books and listen to music. Fill myself with words that take up space yet aren't my own.

I feel the same as I did that time she sat us down in the dark and tore herself apart for just a frosty look and an insincere apology.

I remember her sitting on the stairs crying. I remember him trying to comfort her without breaking down himself.

I remember the boy in the living room who lost all words that day. His mouth formed the shapes, his lips made the motions, but nothing came out. He wrote with unsteady hands and in black biro told the truth for the first time in what might have been, well the whole time I was with him.

I sat in a chair watching everyone visibly hurting themselves to try and get me to share with them.

And I felt nothing.

you ripped off my flesh and my heart gripped the ribs like a prisoner

Day Three

A picture of what you did today

Today is Wednesday of Week 2 in my school timetable, hence today I did: Chemistry, RS (full course), Photography, Spanish and PE.

I took my camera into school but forgot to take a photo. I looked like shit today anyway. I always look like shit at school.

I want to go shopping. I haven't had new clothes for a while.

Things I want to buy:

- Heart pattern tights

- Brogues

- Boat shoes

- Generally new shoes

- Summer dresses

- A denim shirt/ jacket

- High waisted shorts

- Nice vintage/ band t-shirts

- Oversized cardigans

- New wellies (seeing as mine are slashed down the sides and covered in dried paint, courtesy of a friend's photoshoot)

- Some nice new skirts

- Cheap vest tops

- New underwear (need to go for another bra fitting)

I hate sleeping alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone

Day Two

A picture of what you wore today

Red polo shirt and shorts. Yes, it was a school day, I wore this to the cinema when I went to see Toy Story 3. I thought I'd show you this rather than my school uniform as a) it's more interesting b) it's more flattering and c) no paedophiles will be able to look up my uniform and match it to a specific school etc. Not that anyone would. The only people who read this are my friends. But oh well, it's nice to be certain.

There's a car alarm going off outside my window. I'm trying to listen to Los Campesinos' new EP (All's Well That Ends) which is very lovely I must say, however it is at the moment being ruined by a constant WOO WOO WOO WOO WOO noise. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

It's half eleven and I should really go have a shower because I'm just going to be too tired to wake up tomorrow and will end up oversleeping again. I'm not going to though. I'm going to write in this blog until I-

THE ALARM JUST STOPPED. Thank fuck.

Anyway, what was I saying?

Oh yeah, I'm going to write in this blog until I feel empty again.

Everyone is going away on holiday this summer. I'm going to be left in bed staring at blank pages whilst trying to kid myself that I am in the slightest bit creative, trying to draw with uncoordinated hands and keep my mind off the fact that I'm all alone. Or I'll read until I get a headache, working my way through the books we got out from his library, to psychology books, to food packaging. I do that sometimes. Instead of fiddling I read whatever words are closest to me. Trace the typeface with my eyes and burn the black lettering into my mind. I think I might even go sit in a park by myself listening to my iPod for a few hours by myself. I would probably end up crying. I do that a lot nowadays.

I just feel very... wobbly. Shaky, even. I used to get bouts of shivering whenever I was scared or stressed or depressed. I can't hold cameras still very much. it's why low shutter speeds annoy me because they end up so blurry. I got a new tripod recently.

Oh, I forgot to mention my new camera as well. I've had it for about a week now? Small digital camera; Nikon Coolpix S8000 to be precise (don't criticise the name, I didn't pick it out myself). It's for gigs. I would never bring my DSLR to those things, far to scared of being mugged or breaking it or losing it. Although this one isn't on the cheap side actually but blame my parents for that. It's good quality though, 14.2 megapixels and everything. My DSLR is only 10. It has a better zoom than my DSLR as well. The only thing that is slightly annoying about it is the lack of manual settings I suppose.

I don't want to be a his and hers match. I never wanted to fall into that category. But I don't know what to do. I'm going to miss him. I don't want to miss him but I know I will. I feel like such a dick for that.

It's been so long.

How has it been so long?

His, Hers, Yours.

I'd like to be the third option. Thinking about it, if any pair could be the third option we could.

the other girl is not like me, she's prettier and skinnier, she has a college degree, I dropped out when I was seventeen

Yes I found this on people's Tumblrs. Yes I am a hypocrite.

Day 01 - A picture of yourself

Day 02 - A picture of what you wore today

Day 03 - A picture of what you did today

Day 04 - A picture of where you went today

Day 05 - A picture of your morning

Day 06 - A picture that inspires you

Day 07 - A picture that makes you cry

Day 08 - A picture of yourself somewhere you love

Day 09 - A picture of what you had for lunch

Day 10 - A picture of what you like to do

Day 11 - A picture of your favorite band

Day 12 - A picture that captures your favorite song

Day 13 - A picture of your friends

Day 14 - A picture of your idol

Day 15 - A picture of yourself and someone related to you.

Day 16 - A picture of an object that captures your life.

Day 17 - A picture of phone

Day 18 - A picture of your room

Day 19 - A picture of your favorite musical instrument

Day 20 - A picture of where you want to honeymoon

Day 21 - A picture that makes you think of your loved ones

Day 22 - A picture of your favorite item of clothing.

Day 23 - A picture that describes your life

Day 24 - A picture of who you were today

Day 25 - A picture that you edited

Day 26 - A picture that makes you angry

Day 27 - A picture that makes you laugh

Day 28 - A picture of someone you spoke to today

Day 29 - A picture of someone you’ll never stop loving

Day 30 - A picture of you and your best friend

I like photography. It was calling me. What can I say?

Day One

A picture of myself

This was recent, in fact is only three days old. It was at my school's annual Sports Day. I wore my reindeer hat on it and got lots of compliments. I also wore a massive sunflower pinned to it (my house colour is yellow).

I was picked out of a hat to do javelin. I can't throw. I came eleventh. Out of twelve people. My inevitable failure at Sports Day may be the reason for the distraught look on my face but actually I think I was just a bit weary as you can tell from the massive dark circles under my eyes (apologies, I wasn't wearing any make up that day).

So there is your picture of me.

Clothes tomorrow... on a school day... cool.

what you wanted is just outside your reach so keep on searching

Nice to know no one gives a shit.

Nice to know how little impact I have on everyone.

If I did leave I'd throw a party but people only come for the alcohol.

I'd be forgotten within a week.

After a year they wouldn't even be able to remember my name.

I can go fuck myself.

I don't matter.

And now I'm not sure if I deserve to matter.

You're just wasting your time with me you know. You could be having fun. You could be happy. You'd be better off without me dragging you down.

I'm such a fucking loser.

And you're so much better than that.

I buried my head in a pillow earlier and everytime I breathed in I felt as if my head was sinking further into the pillow. I wanted it to swallow my face up. I wanted my breath to fill up my nostrils and suffocate me. My stupid shallow breath. My fucking gasping breath.

I sat on the bus and imagined being someone else. I made up stranger's life stories. I was the man in the chip shop staring blankly at a newspaper. I was the foreign woman chatting loudly to her friend. I was the bus driver who watched silently as I dropped first my iPod, then my phone whilst trying to find my Oyster card and balance a Kurt Vonnegut book in my hands at the same time.

When we get annoyed by other people we can just go talk to someone else. But you can never escape yourself.

It's killing me.

I’m still mourning over ghosts, over ghosts, over ghosts, over ghosts that broke my heart before I met you

I feel weird. I keep getting randomly depressed. I think it might be making me ill as well... Either that or I'm just ridiculously dehydrated. My head pounds and spins and my throat goes dry and I feel trapped inside my skin, suffocating. I have to lie down or I get scared I might faint. I've never fainted before. I kind of want to.

But yeah, depression. I looked up the symptoms a while ago.

Psychological symptoms (according to the NHS)

- continuous low mood or sadness

- feelings of hopelessness and helplessness

- low self-esteem

- tearfulness

- feelings of guilt

- feeling irritable and intolerant of others

- lack of motivation and little interest in things

- difficulty making decisions

- lack of enjoyment

- suicidal thoughts or thoughts of harming someone else

- feeling anxious or worried

- reduced sex drive

Ignoring the last one, I pretty much have the symptoms. It runs in my family too. My mum and my nan both have been on antidepressants at one point. I'm not sure if my mum is off them yet.

I think I suppress too much. I thought I told people stuff that worries me but I realised that's not the actual problem. Whenever I feel upset I just shut it off and it's gotten to the point now where I start to feel like I'm going to start crying and I don't know why. If I thought about it I reckon I could work out why but I don't want to so I don't and it's getting really hard to stop myself from crying at the moment.

Nothing is even wrong with me. I hate myself for being like this. And it makes me want to cry more.

I'm useless. I can't do anything, I can't even keep him happy.

I know I'm not depressed though because the feeling will eventually seep away. It will come back but it does go away.

Maybe I'm just a freak.

I'm doing depression as another photography idea as well (maybe). I want to research it more and like make it really personal and sort of thought-provoking, maybe slightly unsettling. I'd like people to take me seriously with my photography. No one else seems to care so much about it. I just want to make a statement and have people understand and interpret me and just... I want something more than "That's a pretty picture".

I might move to Canada.

I used to want to move away from everyone more than anything.

He used to run away. He showed me a place in this park once, hidden in long grass near a big old tree. It used to be a sort of picnic area but had been abandoned and all that was left was a gap in the unruly grass and a mat on the floor. He said he used to run away there when he was little. We lay there for about an hour and I was late getting home and got grounded for the weekend. He ran to me once but my parents found out and took him home and my dad talked to him in the car and said "bollocks" a lot. My dad was nice to him.

My dad ran away once too. He was sixteen and ran all the way from Wales to London looking for his brother. I think he slept on the streets for a couple nights. He should have been back at his boarding school but he was out drinking with university students.

I remember when my sister thought he ran away for good once. I wasn't sure if he was coming back either. She a cried a lot. My mum didn't notice. I wrote about it in a notebook and drew all over the pages and slept and was numb to it. I didn't cry back then. Like, ever.

He came back though. He just went for a drive after all.

I'm in the middle of GCSE's and I want to go to university here and I will not fuck up my education for my father.

I'd get a really annoying accent if I moved.

I don't particularly like snow either.

If it was somewhere else in England (where I could carry on all the GCSE's I am doing)... then it might be different. I might have run.

I might have moved.

it's all a part of his plan, it's all in his hands, but I never asked for it, I never did

I am proper loving Perfume Genius at the moment.

I wish I could grab a piano and stretch my fingers across the keys and make music like his. The only word I can think of for it is beautiful. And really, really sad. You can tell his music is personal to him, he sings with such a broken look on his face. It feels fragile and is completely tangible.

I want to be so immersed in sound like him and make such simple, lovely songs as he does with just a piano and his voice.

I hate my parents for never making me learn piano as a child like everyone else did.

I hate them for selling ours before I ever got a chance to work my way around the keys. I miss it. I miss our piano even though I never knew how to play it.

On a holiday in Spain once, the villa we were renting had a grand piano in the sort of living room area. Playing with chords and the pedal, finding ways around the out of tune keys, I managed to have a go at it. Someone asked me if I was playing some classical composer's work...Chopin I think. When I got back and showed some friends they thought it was from a Muller Corner advert. It was nothing though and I quickly forgot it.

I've always loved people who play piano really well. She takes it for granted sometimes I think, her music often revolves around her melodies on the piano. I would love to be able to come up with stuff like she does.

I haven't written any things for a while. Sometimes I think pour so much into this blog there's nothing left to write.

But then again, it's probably just me being caught up in things too quick to think about them.

I felt really detached today. Geography field trip, walking up Box Hill. Shut myself off with my iPod and stormed across dry valleys and scarp slopes, huffing and sweating and generally feeling the most unattractive I have in a while. I think I might have wasted time with myself. Normally when I sort of blank everything else out I think about stuff, important stuff to me. I didn't even bother trying to today. At the moment my head is still trying sort out all the kinks and knots and tangled up mess of my thoughts. None of it makes sense and I just get confused now when things get too hard for me to face. I think I'm a coward.

I'm a bit annoyed at myself. He is always the one to say sorry. I'm too stubborn. I expect for him to, not even forgive me, just ignore it when I get stressy, but whenever he is a bit I end up getting annoyed myself and then he apologises when it isn't his fault. He apologises too much, and sometimes I don't know when he really is sorry or when he's just saying it to end the argument.

I don't like the arguments.

I like messing around with him and being a twat to make him laugh and mock me and kiss me.

when I trip on my feet, look at the ground the words are written in the dust

You know what, I was wavering in my shower musing on things to write in here. Swaying off-kilter in a daze.

Got out, ate a banana, pondered about the Windows 7 that my dad was struggling with, waited for my sister to move off the computer (which involved a lot of "GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT" from my sister for once) then came on here.

And completely forgot what I was going to write about.

So um, hello.

I haven't written on here for a while. I'm not sure why, I still have a shitload of ramblings floating around, giving me a headache every waking second. I've been busy? That's a lame excuse. Sounds like the excuses I use to fob off this unwanted rapist who keeps turning up everywhere. The fact that I'm four years younger than him hasn't even perturbed him. I'm too scared to just tell him to fuck off and he's no help whatsoever. Oh well.

It's almost summer. With every new freckle it seems closer and closer. I'm going to be bored. Hmm.

To do list time!

TO DO:

- watch a Jackie Chan movie (I'm ashamed of myself for not having done this sooner)

- go to at least one piss up in a park and stay FOR THE WHOLE TIME .. or at least 'til like eleven or whatever

- paint my study

- learn to cook at least one meal, at least pasta

- learn a bit more guitar and practise singing for god's sake

- three words: TOY. STORY. THREE.

- check if I'm still allergic to face paint

- more water fights but preferably outside this time

- have that tea party she promised ages ago

- find a pet shop that sells tortoises for future reference

- buy that fucking Diana F+ already

- go to the seaside

- go to Camden

- get lost somewhere stupid

- have an adventure

I'd like to put other on there like build a treehouse and go to Sweden with him but I have to be realistic. Most of those will not be done. I will be far too busy sleeping my way through the holidays, awakening only for music festivals and awful movie marathons. Fun fun.

I need more music, I have to get round to sorting out my iPod at some point and it would be reassuring if I had a load of backups in case everything goes shit side up. I would love to find my own sound. I'm a bit lost within noise at the moment, nothing is really outlining me particularly, Sure there are things I like and listen to but I'm not so enthusiastic as I used to be which is a shame. I'll add it onto my to do list: put in more effort concerning finding new music.

Anyway, as always I thought I'd leave you with a picture.

Did I mention how much I love tortoises?

He's put it as his phone wallpaper so now I can obsess over it even more.

I WANT ONE.

The lucky fucking prick riding him...

STOP TAUNTING THE POOR TORTOISE.

I would love it far more than you ever could.