up

So there's a man in a long black coat ( forgive me, but I definitely don't mean the song, sorry lads). He's wearing steampunk goggles, large PVC gloves and is staring at me. He is outside the kitchen window, and he just stares. He makes a move towards the window, slowly, thoughtfully. Hot steam is leaking out of his mask. Forward. One step. The body that I thought I owned is quaking. He sniffs. His hand reaches out and then black.
At least once a week I see this. It's fucking up my head and it's fucking up my sleeping patterns.


You go out, you drink, you fuck. Next day: you drink/work. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
For the past...I don't know how many months. Is this what student life is? No, really?
So, there's this person and this person. You know them, maybe even call them friends, heck why the fuck not? But they are practically meaningless in your life. And those who you do care an ounce of shit about are becoming vexatious to you. Because you see them every single fucking day!
So what is it I want then? I'm on the same path as Stevie, all I want to do is get happy. Not thrilled, not fantastic but just to be content. Well, it's hard. But a bottle of wine here and there seems to help, fucking seems to help, music helps, dancing helps, friends help, pubs help, money helps, people help.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.