The fury continues, and in fact grows. This is bad. Anger is not a familiar emotion. What is also alarming is the recent revelation that I am totally unable to enjoy myself. I am. It's fucking unbelievable. I go to places I want to visit occasionally, go to parties etc and come away with a feeling of frustration, boredom and strong disappointment. Nothing is what it's meant to be. Life, people, drugs, alcohol, parties, jobs. It's all so DULL. God, I'm really proving why I'm a Moz fan here aren't I? Only where I used to find comfort in his words, now they're empty. No longer do I listen to the music, gaze at his image, pour over the interviews. I can no longer relate to the bitter old queen, comforted by a sense of his own superiority.

I don't know what to do. It's not 4pm yet and my boss let me finish early so I'm at home. I sat on the tube debating whether to go xmas shopping, buy lunch, or get my legs waxed. In the end I just came home, got changed out of my hated work clothes and started writing this journal. My world is grey. Rallen is the only colour, and his warmth, humour and character delight me. However coupled with this is the niggling thought that if I were normal we'd be a couple. If I was more interesting, more intelligent, more cultured, more attractive, we'd be together. But no, today is the anniversary of my singleness - 3 years.

I'll never live a normal life. I'll never feel happy, fulfilled. I'll never have a long-term boyfriend, never have kids. I'll never do designer clothes and bags and go to dinner parties and dazzle everyone with my conversation. I'd always feel false, and bored. I don't find joy where one is supposed to. I'm not even that excited about the new job and car to be honest, I'm just trying to convince myself I am. I've achieved everything you're supposed to. At 28 I'm a high-earning professional, brand new car, living in central London, have owned a house in the past, had an 8 year relationship. I've tried it the conventional way - the way I knew from age 12 wouldn't work for me. Well Mum, I didn't 'grow out of it'. I tried it, I've achieved, I've obtained. I don't honestly give two fucks. If anything, it's eroded my soul, crushed my optimism and drained my self-esteem. Well no that's not true, my self-esteem has increased, but my self-respect is dented.

See and now I feel guilty. I feel guilty for my ingratitude. I know other journalists who go through hell - lives of no opportunity, poverty, death. I know I'm well off, I do. I'm very grateful for my lifestyle. I just want to be happy, and I want peace of mind. It scares me that I can't identify the vehicle by which to obtain this. I know love is a big part of it. I need to love someone and be loved.

Anyway I'm going to sleep for an hour now, until the boy comes home and scolds me for this entry. It's so hard for him to understand me, but he tries so hard to comfort me. He means everything to me.

Thanks for listening and caring.

Lou xxx

Love and thanks to Kes xxxx