100th post

You read about love in a book somewhere
Then you read it out loud what you found in there
And you had me for days and you had me for months
And i hope you've enjoyed your time of fun
Oh, forgive me
For running down your door
I thought all those fancy words were yours
I'm treated with cold, cold kisses
And i'm treasured like a piece of junk
I call you up to say i love you
You only call me when you're drunk
And still you keep me hanging around
Like i was some old sofa you found in a second-hand store
Oh, forgive me
For running down your door
I thought all those fancy words were yours
I promise i won't do that anymore
I promise i won't do that anymore
forgive me - ida maria


How fitting. My 100th post being most characteristic. So much to blog about, but nothing to word. So instead I'll just post the lyrics to a decent song that I feel relates to the on-going situation (which by the way, is boring the hell out of me.) I'm so desperate for change and something new. I cannot freakin' wait until the next few months are over. I can just not even wait for that freedom which is going to come with this summer.

London was good, the holidays so far have been good actually. But I can see a lot of being by myself in the next couple of days, I need to get my head down and do some work, so don't really want to leave the house in order to get motivated. However, having 3 burly builders hammering around and making noise isn't really the best place to concentrate on already stressful textiles coursework.

I am secretly excited about this roof terrace being completed though. It's one of the sillier, pointless ideas from mother, but in reality, it's going to be pretty decent on hot summer nights, not that we're going to have many of them. It's just different and in my eyes I see it as being romantic and cosy on warm evenings. When the parents are away, the child will have her closest friends over and socially drink/smoke/talk on a roof terrace that nobody else in the neighbourhood has.

Also, I'm pissed off because some people are going Leeds festival who just don't deserve to go to Leeds Festival. Yes, blatent jealousy right here, that I didn't even attempt to get tickets. Fine, you've got tickets to go to Leeds Festival; you are one of those people who likes shit music because other people say it's good and you don't actually appreciate really good music for what it's worth, so yeah, that angers me. Then you proceed to rub it in my face, and say "139 days, 18 hours, 59 minutes and 18 seconds until Leeds fest" on your personal message. All of me has to resist for running over to your house, because you literally live through the passage opposite my house, and suffocating you (and then stealing your ticket.)

I can't wait to see you again, I want it how it was last time, I know I stand to get hurt over and over and over again. But I miss you so much, it's stopped mattering to me. I'm already sick and tired of trying to fight it, though I should try anyway. I'm getting over you, with the help of remembering those stupid, annoying parts there are too you. However, the perfect parts of you are forcing me to resent forgetting you.