don't read this if you detest self obsessed, self pitying and self loathing teenage blog posts.

i know i sound so emotionally 'gay' when i write here but cha know i really don't give one.

and i find it funny in more ways than one that people from chester look at this blog. HIA.

anyway i'll be in london in half a year. and i'll be an adult. and i won't have to do what people tell me in order to be in order.

i'll be a pennyless artist with just skin, bones and my brain to keep me surviving but that won't be enough.

i can't even control myself now at home, i don't know what i'll do when i'm at uni.

die i suppose, or something along those lines.

sounds fuuuun. xxxxxxcited innitt.

nah i actually can't bloody wait till CSM omgomgomg. yahaaaoo.

just need to concentrate on these exams right now. i have so much work to do. you see i lost a whole sketchbook for my last art project, so i have to redo da whole tinngg!

unbelievable. typical. i'm a jerk

thing is i know that i have to knuckle down right now, get the grades and shit, yet i continue to consciously break myself down because it is the only thing i can seem to do right.

i've gotten over what he did to us, and i came out fine. if you've ever met me you'll know i am strong and don't give one what people think, (omg cringe at actually writing this , lololol)

but its like if i feel i can control my own downfalls, then i can prove to him that what he did was unacceptable, that he hurt me more than he thinks he did. See, mum says that i have to prove to him that all the shit he put us through didn't damage me, but i know he didn't mean for it to damage me, he only hated mum. thus, showing that i was more than just "collateral damage" seems like the thing to do.

its not really a theory, i have never thought it through until now. and it still doesn't make sense to me. nothing i am doing is by choice. i can't help it. and i don't want it helped. cos i am in control and always will be.

i know i sound like one of those depressed teen bloggers who

wake up in the morning and are scared of living.

i hate them,

they need to get over themselves

or kill themselves.

one or the other, just make their bloody minds up.

so yeah

i'm a massive hypocrite. if you knew me you'd know that.

its wierd that my friends at school see my dad more than me.

i mean, well i haven't seen him in a year. but they see him often, and sometimes i hear them talk about him casually in the common room. and its the weirdest thing.

the other day my friend asked me who "carol" was and i answered "my dad's wife"

and i didn't realise what i said till after it came out my mouth.

i don't think they're married? i've heard they are engaged, and that dads moved in with her.

which is in a way a good thing cos i still have a key for his house, and last time i had a party there it got traaaaashed.

i might throw another one just to spite him. feel free to come. invite your whole facebook friend list.

any way. i feel better now. blogs are healthy. although there will be massive repercussions and awkward dinner time questions ( i think my mum reads this...)

and don't tell me to keep a diary so that i can keep my sob stories to myself cos i already have one and its purple with white dots on and 2 pound from smiths, and i write in it every day since i lost my virginity.

i need to go walk the dog, get some air. i've been locked in all day.

then i think i will go sew some more rag dolls, make myself sick, get some caffeine, then masturbate to 18th century erotica.

adios.