People tell me I'm 'neglecting' my journal.
I don't ask them whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, but still, I must take it as the former, and I must strive to give the public what they don't want.

Well, my parents return from their Devonshire retreat on Saturday, and frankly I can't wait. I never thought I'd miss them quite so much. I cried real tears when my mother's twenty pence ran out when she called me on her way to the swimming pool.

I think I deserve a holiday myself.
That's why I'm spending a whole month in the US with a very close friend, this September. Yes, a whole month.
I have such a lot to sort out.. but it's gonna be great

other than that, life is boring..

LEAVE COMMENTS...everyone tell me how to cope with a seven-hour flight

Jx

 

If anyone's interested remotely, I'm still around.

My parents have gone on vacation this week, taking the rest of my immediate family. I have decided not to go because what would change? I mean, I'm gonna be with the same people, just in another town, is all. Oh, and there's some sand and a sea.
Whoop de doo dar day.
So, hoping to rest up in the solitude of my house, nothing but a wide screen television, a sofa and tinned spaghetti to keep me company - just the way I would want things to be - I told my parents 'thank you very much but you can keep your Dawlish in Devon. Bring me back a stick of rock or something.
And then, guess what..? My parents don't trust me. I don't know, maybe they have these preminitions of me throwing these wild parties and such. I don't think I have enough friends to throw something on the scale they're thinking of.
So, I'm left with the choice of what to do: spend a week in a caravan (all the fun of being at home with the added disadvantage of having less places to hide from my ?loved? ones) or a week with my Grandparents, in a tiny house that also boasts nowhere to sit by myself in silence, reading Salinger and listening to Morrissey. I have my own room in that old place but if I stray from the central living room area for five minutes I get stair calls, then they come up to see I'm not dead from a heroin overdose. They operate with the philosophy that bedrooms are made for sleeping, whereas I am a firm believer in the bedrooms are for escaping theory.
At least that bedroom isn't made for sleeping: Since Saturday, my first day staying there, I have had four hours sleep in total. I just get insomniac about staying there. Life at my grandparents is so very boring that everyone goes to bed at ten thirty PM, with a hot water bottle and probably an electric blanket, even in June.
And it just so happens that Work (yes you read right, James Griffiths IS EMPLOYED!!!!) are looking for me to take care of preceedings all of this week while my manager is away on vacation also, so staying where I don't have to take a two and a half train journey every evening to get to work is essential.
So it's Nan and Grandad's for seven days, hardly any sleep and a Big Brother-like watchful eye wherever I go in the house. Won't leave me alone for a second.
I've managed to drag with me a good twenty per cent of my CD collection and some shitty portable stereo. Oh, and a pair of earphones.
Usually at home I sleep with music in the background, but I can't even with earphones, at my Grandparents': they're the kind of people who are really pedantic about unplugging electrical stuff before they go to bed, afraid that the dark is gonna make it blow up if it's plugged in. They come in to tuck me in at night and unplug everything. I try to plug my stereo back in and because my room there is right next to theirs, they listen out, come in and stop me at my game!
So, I lie in silence on the hard bed, not being able to get to sleep at all. Repeat for a week.

Roll on saturday.

Hoping everyone's enjoying living in their own homes,
Jx

83 Residue close
                                                                                            Worcester
                                                                                ored and lonely

Dear red-haired employee of WH Smith, Oxford Train Station,

Hello. You probably don't know me. No, you almost definately don't remember me. You initially served me when I purchased a bottle of water from your work placement on tuesday, May 27th... See, you still are probably none the wiser. I'm sure a good twenty million people a day purchase bottles of water from your conveniently located branch of WH Smith (despite the outrageous prices, but we won't go into that)
Anyway, I also remember seeing you as you walked down the platform, probably on your way home from another busy day serving water to twenty million commuters, heading home to their Nowhere Places, like Evesham, Honeybourne, Moreton In Marsh. All under the voice of that lovely lady who announces the trains and their destinations. She does tend to repeat herself a little, but again, I am straying from the point, rather.
Anyway, I saw you when I was stood up on the train, for lack of seats, and I have to say, it did look like you smiled back at me.
Bare in mind that my smile wasn't a thank you for your excellent service in serving me my water. Now, I do consider myself with a few manners, so I do remember thanking you at the time I handed over the money for my water. In fact I probably over showered you with thanks and stuff, so therefore, the smile wasn't really a thank you. Necissarily.
Anyway, it did sort of look like you were smiling back to me when I smiled at you. Please, bare with me.
I'm crap with words, you understand.
So, here's my follow up to the smile, just on the offchance it was a smile and not a frown because a fly that flew in your face.
It was lovely to think that you WERE smiling at me, and I do rather hope you were, because I was definately smiling at you.
I digress. What I am actually trying to say is that I really really like you.
I know my affection is based on a three second transaction in which all I did was purchase a bottle of water, then a reply to a smile that probably didn't even happen. But nevertheless, I still like you! On both occasions I realised I like you.
That seems weird to you, doesn't it? I am really strange
I hope that your smile was even inclined the same as mine, if it was a smile!!
People who smile and who are smiled at in the way I smiled at you, and in the way I hope you smiled back, usually people don't follow up like I do. People smile at people and they get smiled back at, and it seems like they just are so detatched from the world they can just be premiscuous with everyone they meet who's inclined much like them. But you see, I never get to be premiscuous. For one reason, I don't think I'm cut out for sharing my smile with lots of people. Smiles are worth too much to shoot at people you'll never see again. So when I smiled at you, the knowing I would probably never see you again was kind of getting me down.
So, here is my follow up!
Do bare in mind, of course, that I am clutching at a multiple of straws here. There is little chance you're going to be interested/available anyway. And, I know that my 'gaydar' (See, you're probably not going to even know what that means!) is all out of sync at the best of times, and I'm probably barking up the wrong proverbial tree, anyway. In which case, don't take offence, please.
About me, anyway: I'm eighteen and I live in a Nowhere Place called Worcester, its only claims to fame are that it's Cathedral features on the back of a £20 note, (open the till and look at one, if you're interested, which you're probably not!) and that there's a disgusting sauce named after it.
I travelled on a train for one hour twenty three minutes (not including delays that WILL happen) and you're definately worth that.
Don't worry, I would only be sitting indoors and not travelling if I wasn't taking a train to 'The City Of Dreaming Spires'(TM) Please, don't see me as some weird stalker guy.
Oxford's quite nice, and I don't really mind seeing just the train station and its sprinkling of WH Smith and other similar stores, if it means giving you this letter. I'll probably just leap on a train home again, scared!! And you're worth the £11.09 I paid to get to Oxford.
So cluctching to those straws so hard my palms are sweating, please make contact.
I like to think I can, in theory, be a nice person. I like to think so. I can certainly try real hard.
I know my attempts to be witty and ironic do crash and burn somewhat, and that my humour is just cruddy. So, yeah. So, if you're not interested/available/that way inclined please, disgard this letter at will!
Just bare in mind that chances are you're not ever going to get your other nine million, ninety nine thousand nine hundred and ninety nine customers to ever send you a follow up letter to a smile they probably imagined!

anxiously waiting to see if you reply

James Griffiths

the_first_of_the_gang_to_die@hotmail.com

PS, thanks AGAIN for the water. It did do a great job of keeping me lubricated on my AWFUL journey home

PPS, Let's be friends if you're not interested, but are inclined

PPPS, Good luck with life and stuff

xxxxxxxxx ...........................................................

So there we go.

More evidence that I'm.. a sad and very lonely tosspot

In other news today, my stepfather said he wished I was dead.

Whoop doo dar!!!

Jx

Something in you caused me to take a new tact with you
i am going through something you are just about scraping through
so i didn't let you get away, with the things you said about me
i want you to see I LIKE YOU
so i'm selfish, bitchy queen but I LIKE YOU
No one I ever knew or have spoken to resembles you
this is good and bad, depending on YOUR mood
I know you will not let me get away
with the things i said about you
even still I LIKE YOU
it may never happen but I LIKE YOU

etc etc...

Wow.
I am sick to the teeth of people. I am trying to have as little social interaction as I can at the moment as it is, and I think I'm losing most of the people I regarded as friends, whom I met here in college. Not because we've fallen out in big ways, but because I just can't be bothered to maintain friendships with them.
Granted, the problem is most certainly with me, not them, I just can't be doing with the 'gang' mentality anyway, because I don't even think I was regarded as a member of the 'Super Happy Crew' as I so lovingly call them.
I think I'd just rather be the loner, the outsider looking in.
I talk to people, I'm certainly nourished with the hugs I get from the people I like, and although I do feel very, very lonely from time to time, it's really just me wallowing in self pity, something I do often, as you boys and girls know.

Also at the moment, I'm regarding that I've made a vital mistake in life, which I think is force of habit:
I always used to think that because people are older, they are naturally above you in terms of their mentality. I guess it stems from stuff when I was a kid like when I was handling certain situations, my Grandma would say something like 'my way's better; I've been around on this earth a lot longer than you have'. Or one of my other various 'elders' is trying to open a jam jar. I try and can't open it, to which I get comments like 'well, if I can't do it then you certainly won't be able to'.
I guess the realisation that there is no real 'chain of command' of which our status increases, or that age is naturally going to make you wiser or, in this case more MATURE, comes with the situation I am in at the moment, with a certain ex-friend I wrote about in my penultimate journal entry prior to this one.
In the time that's lasped between writing it, things really have taken a turn for the obscure.
I'm getting torrents of abuse in all forms of communication, siping rage; telephone calls (which I haven't answered - would you want someone shouting at you down the phone??) then text messages calling me spineless because I don't want torrents of abuse down the phone. I reply with something, okay, perhaps a little bit cryptic and context-sensitive, but I get more texts back telling me to 'stay the fuck out of' her life. When Her Bitchness is clearly stamping all over mine in those God Awful industrial boots she owns.
Then I discover something sinister. There's something on the last text message I got about how 'the 'truth' will come out'. Only through another dear, dear friend, who calls me later do I realise the full extent of how far this vile girl is prepared to go.
This friend, who I regard as someone very close to my heart, who is, like me, very sensitive, and going through a lot of the emotions I am going through.
She called me trying to hold back the tears, and told me that she'd heard something about me she didn't want to know about. Curious, I asked what, and she refused to tell me at first. There are often long silences on the phone when we talk, but these silences weren't comfortable.
I begged and pleaded and she told me what this person said about me. I'm debating even while writing this, dear reader, whether to tell you what this dispicable bitch is preparing to unleash on the world. Lies. Twisted lies. Written lies and verbal lies.
I think I will.
She told this dear, dear friend of mine that I have slept with under age boys.
Gary Glitter, that's me. A Paedophile. I know I have sideburns, but does that make me a paedophile? I have been at the age of consent for having homosexual 'relations' (Bill Clinton now) and, granted, I did kind of lose my virginity when before I was of legal age, but I have never slept with anyone more than a few months younger than me. Anyone any younger than that, well, I know the implications.. and... well.. I know exactly and wouldn't ever do that kind of thing, now now I'm legal, not when I was under age, not ever.

It's clear, this whole thing is a power strugle for this sick, I think slightly retarded person, and I just want to make a direct appeal to her now:
Please stop this! I couldn't (for wont of a better phrase) give a fuck about how many friends you have, whether these people are genuinely your friends, this is not what you think it is, some kind of crusade against you, like you seem to think it is, it's not some blatant way to blacken your name which isn't so high and mighty, and holy, in the first place. You always did brag that you have more friends than me, and I really couldn't care less. People talk, darling, people talk, and rumours spread happilly around. It's the way of the world. At the end of the day, I have a life (and we're talking real, reach-out-and-touch, bona fide, ENJOYABLE life, outside of cyberspace) and I don't need to watch you crack under the realisation that people on the internet are going to, sometimes, not be online when you need someone. The realisation that people aren't going to live up to your high, high, expectations, that not everyone is 'shaggable material'. I don't take what everyone says, their actions, mannerisms (about 3% of which you're getting from the type on a screen) aren't all going to be accurate.
This is not a mission to protect my name. Perhaps there have been times, my dear, when I have reacted wrongly, but at the end of the day, that's me. My journal is by no means a vehicle for creating spin to try and embody a certain aura to the people who read it!

now, regular readers will know that I don't consider myself in any way a nice person, you'll know from what you've read into my life that there is a certain degree of self hatred that consumes me from time to time. Please refer to the entry, 'page after page of sniping rage' for an abridged list of the feelings I have towards myself!
But I think it's plain to say that I am above this person, even though (shock to my Grandma's theory!) above this person: And I can say that to myself however flattened my hair is in the morning, however scared and spineless, and childish and.. SELFISH... I may be that I am above this person. It's better that I broke away from this sham of a friendship when I did, and I only wish the high cell phone from landlines bills could be refunded, when I called her to see how she was (very unselfishly) and I wish i could have used the little energy I waisted on e-mailing and texting her ass could have been used in a much more productive way!
I resent much of everything to do with her, for she would be bitter and nasty, and my only advice to her 'friends' is that you don't take her in too close, because she will be cold, and bitter and nasty, and she's not an easy person to get to know at all... that I would say most of everything she does involves the stencil she has, somewhere inside her, somewhere, a stencil for an ego that is filling, gradually, with a vile, vile green, yellow and black, sticky liquid -a bile - called ego... it's filling day by day, people.
And this isn't an attempt to blacken her name, it's a warning. A true-to-life meaning. Keep HER as a name on the screen, keep her sweet, but just remember what your mummies would no doubt say about Internet people. Because there are some very strange people around.

But don't ask me. I won't be here soon, 'a man who slits throats has time on his hand'

Well, I'm quivering in my sensible shoes, darling.

Love forever, James

P.S. Looking forward to the Star and Garter in may, darling.. I can buy you a drink!! xx

Isn’t it funny how things turn out?
Piece advice to any other gay guys and gals out there (as if I could really teach you anything, anyway, but) never, ever, under any circumstances, shag a closet case. However cute, fit, big or otherwise they happen to be, I think it’s likely to end in tears, or certainly messily.
I’ve been friends with Andy Purvis since my second year of high school. So I guess I was about thirteen or so, and being a year younger than me he was about… well… you guessed, twelve, and we were just friends because of material things like videogames and computers and gadgetry and stuff like that. I think most friendships are like this when you’re that age, really, so nothing unusual there. I remember a neighbour introduced us in a bus queue, knowing we both had Turok 2 for the Nintendo 64, and of course, I had the invincibility cheat for the game (as you do!) and we got talking. When I went to his huge house that evening to play videogames, I saw his huge bedroom full of possessions. I quickly learned the circumstance he was in, his father died when he was, I think, about six or seven, of Leukaemia, it was just him and his mother and his mother bought him anything he wanted, and if he couldn’t get it, I saw him on many occasions beg and plead more than I’ve seen anyone beg for anything. I’ve had my moments with pleading for videogames, cell phones, lots of it, but this was like nothing I’ve ever seen. His mother gave him anything he wanted whether she could afford it or not. It was crazy. And I would get really jealous, sometimes. Seeing someone with the same interests, exactly, as me, getting the stuff I could only dream about, did make me quite envious.
My mother would try to talk to me, explained that on Christmas mornings I would feel lonely having no one to open my presents with, and anything I wanted was a nothing compared to having a family around me. And being practically a child still, I wasn’t convinced.
It was three, perhaps four years before there was anything sexual between me and Andy, but I remember when I had known him just a year or so, or even less, we would play rolling around on the floor together on the rug, we would not fight exactly, but have a lot of physical contact and I, certainly, found it all very intimate. I personally had gay feelings even before we met but I would get erections rolling around on the floor, and I would always look at his crotch to see if he was hard too. And I swear to God that he was.
I remember once when I slept over at his house, we were sharing the same bed, both in our pyjamas too, I remember pretending to be asleep, I felt him pressing up against my back for a while, and then I remember swearing that I was listening to his soft hard breathing as he was masturbating. The whole thing drove me nuts with not just nerves but extreme, extreme sexual tension and desire.
So, we first had sex when I was in my last year of high school. There is an absolutely huge sense of irony when you consider how the whole thing came about.
I had been at Andy’s house the night before, and had foolishly accessed my MSN Messenger account from his house. Somehow, the next day he obtained my password and accessed it again. I remember while he was online telling all of my contacts they were ‘Whores’ and ‘Mother fucking bastards’ these same people were calling my up and telling me what he was doing. I wasn’t surprised. Andy has always had a fucking destructive nature I find diabolical. I guess I put it down to lack of a father figure, liberal upbringing, and that his whole childhood has left him really fucked up. This is a guy that has ordered stuff off of his dead dad’s credit card, so he told me.
Andy was always so two faced. He would slag me off to all of his cool friends. His cool friends just wanted him for the gadgetry he had, the possessions, the money. I admit that’s what first drew me to him, but I did consider myself a friend to him, while he was being nice.
But anyway, Andy just happened to have messaged a gay guy that was on my MSN buddy list. I forget his name, but I remember I met him in a gay room during the apex of my sexual tension, and I think this guy must have messaged my online name, thinking it was me, and being faced with Andy. At that time I really would have died knowing anyone knew about my dirty little secret, these ways I was attracted to men, of which I swore to myself were just a phase.
Angry at Andy (as anyone would be) for breaking in to my MSN account, I changed the password, but (and I really can’t remember the time scale) must have forgiven Andy eventually. I remember I was working part time with him back then, selling double glazing over the phone (sad, sad, sad, I know…!) and one Saturday evening after work, he asked me if I would like to sleep over at his house, in his new tent in the garden (!!!) for the evening. I agreed. Sat in his room playing his new Playstation 2, he liberally asked me if I’d ever had a ‘bisexual experience’. He was telling me that his girlfriend at the time was bisexual and that he found the whole idea of having sex with someone of the same gender ‘cool’. Me being the way I was, was chuffed. Thinking that me and this guy I’ve really liked for ages and ages and ages! I think he also did admit talking to this guy on my Messenger and cybering with him!
I’ll spare you all of the gory details, but that night in the tent we experimented. It was fun, but very… secluded. He wanted to try various things and we did, and he told me what he enjoyed and what he didn’t. And I basically just agreed with him, happy to get what I was getting! We ‘experimented’ again and again, then it went quiet for a month or so.
Things just seemed to fit into place from then on. The next time he called me up, I knew what to expect. He must have been doing things with someone else, I remember, as he seemed a lot more experienced in what he was doing. Things went on like this for two years, right up to about two months ago. We did it in his house, in fields, behind power stations, in public bathrooms, in his bathtub, in woods. But mostly in his room. Forget the fucking ‘friendship’, now all we would do is fuck. Perhaps I would stay for half an hour after and we would watch The Simpsons before his mother came home from work, maybe do it again. But it was never really going to be the same, there was never any going back.
What I used to hate was that I would call him up and be suggestive and stuff, and he would just hang up. Never, ever when I had asked him would he ever agree to do it with me. I would always come jumping, because I was far too keen, far too happy to take him up on his offer, even if personally I wasn’t feeling like it. I would think, ‘okay, this could be all you’re gonna get out of him for months on end, so make the most of it’. and sometimes it would be months. I would always, always find myself waiting for that magical phone call, and I would be ready, like an SAS member to run all the way up to his house, just in case he called me and changed his mind (which he did do, on lots of occasions!)
The last time we met before today was about, as I say, a couple of months ago. It was wonderful. I remember it was all about sex of course, and for ages we never even kissed, which I so badly wanted to do. so it was only the second time we ever kissed, and it was a nice .. ahem… ‘session’. I enjoyed it and felt really happy afterwards.
Then today I was coming home from town, I had gone in to get a Nick Cave CD (Murder Ballads – and it has the tatty Seal of Approval, folks!!) and saw him in the bus queue on the way home. He was sat down just messing with his state of the art cell phone. I think I caught his eye a couple of times but he always looked away.
I got so nervous. I thought ‘I bet if we talk on the bus stuff could happen’. The bus eventually came and he sat right at the back. (thinking about it, kicking myself, he was so, so, SO obviously avoiding me!!) but I came and sat opposite him at the back, and really stopped myself shaking (I really was sweating and going red and breathless) just plucked enough courage to say hello. He looked really, really nervous, as he replied with a hello. He reached for a discarded newspaper on his seat, and just glanced at it nervously, anywhere to put his eyes apart from at me. I sat silent also, thoughts buzzing through my head, fucking shitting myself.
When it got near to his stop I just asked, casually; ‘are you busy this afternoon, or would you like to come round?’
‘I’m alright’.
He got out of the seat, and strides off of the bus, not another word exchanged.
I felt down about this, but I think that more than half of me knew he wouldn’t take it anyway, so I wasn’t too bothered really. own fault for getting involved and all of that!
Andy must have been really mad at me this evening. I know, I know he’s really resentful of me anyway, but I didn’t know he’d try the same stunt as he did before, that began this whole charade, two years ago.
I had a phone call from my friend Alice, she sounded really, really angry with me, and when I picked up she was like, ‘So you’re not drunk then?’ I was like ‘no, babes, why do you ask that?’ she says that I was just ‘on MSN, saying I was pissed out of my brain calling her a fucking whore’. What?
Last time Andy did this, I changed the password. But then, as I remember, changed the password back about two months after, for it to be the same as everything else I have online, thinking that we were friends, he wouldn’t ever do this again.
On the phone to Alice, I dictated for her what to type to ‘me’ and we eventually exposed him. Alice went out with Andy ages back, so she knows who he is!
Another close female friend called me up about fifteen minutes after Alice, also assuming that it wasn’t me online, saying ‘very suggestive’ things to her. Thanks to her, we managed to restrict the use of my MSN account, and (I am in your debt for that, KK, darling xxx) (SO IF ANYTHING OFFENSIVE WAS SAID TO ANY OF MY MSN CONTACTS READING THIS, CHANCES ARE IT WASN’T ME, OK?)

It was a fucking annoyance and a pain to be accused about four or five times of calling people who regard me as a friend, nasty names. It hurts that I know I’m gonna have a lot of explaining to do to my contacts online (if he hasn’t erased them all) but what hurts more is the fact that he could ever do that to me! I mean, why? He resents me that much… why? That really hurts me, it’s bad enough ‘making love’ and knowing it’s just a physical thing, when I am looking for a secure relationship.
When I was talking about it with my friend KK, she was saying, ‘fuck, James, this guy is in LOVE with you’, but I was like ‘what are you on about? Why would he be doing this then?’ and all she could say is ‘there’s a very thin line’. She might be on to something! I really don’t know! but I know as I always did, this is a straight guy who just wants to try ‘something different’… he really is a sex maniac! I have female friends who he’s fucked (unfortunate how I couldn’t compare notes, eh?) and he’s a real man-whore. I was just the tool for his feminine, no-prominent-father-figure side!
Would I have been happier being just his friend? Well, no. I don’t think our material friendship could have survived. He would have stuck to his ‘cool gang’ going clubbing every night. Someone like that doesn’t want some weird ugly kid who sits in his small, single-bed room listening to Morrissey. No way!
And I think Andy’s gonna be like that all his life. I reckon he’s gonna end up some smack addict somewhere and it’s not gonna be nice. But that’s another story, and I wouldn’t say I’m past caring, it’s just there’s no way I’m gonna even be allowed by him to be in his life anywhere.
I only saw the sensitive side to Andy, the pure side, a couple of times, and compared the 99% of those in his life that haven’t, I feel privileged to have seen it. but that’s not gonna keep me warm at night!
And you know the only rewarding element of this whole shitty thing?
He changed my MSN name to 'James griffithe fucked Andy Purvis up the ass and enjoyed it' according to KK
Too fucking right I did!!

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the sacred wunderkind,
You took me behind a disused railway line, and said
‘I know a place where we can go, where we are not known’
And you gave me something that I would forget too soon.
But I can’t believe that you’d ever care
And this is why you will never care
But these things take time
And I know that I’m
The most inept
That ever stepped

I’m spellbound, but a woman divides
And the hills are alive with celibate cries
But you know where you came from, you know where you’re going
And you know where you belong
You said I was ill and you were not wrong
But I can’t believe that you’d never care
And so, you never cared
But these things take time
And I know that I’m
The most inept
That ever stepped

Oh the alcoholic afternoons
When we sat in your room
They meant more to me
Than living thing on earth
They had more worth
Than any living thing on earth

Vivid and in your prime
You will leave me behind
You will leave me behind
- Morrissey
- (And I do like to think he had situations like mine, in mind when he wrote it!)

Loves and kisses…

Well.. the brazen cheek of it!!

don't you just HATE two-faced people? people who take you in, listen to you, possibly help you out, genuinely, you're there for them, you ring them just to ask how they are.. they're on the same meds as you, with lots and lots and lots of other things in common.. it's not often you call someone your rock or your soulmate and just this week, i was spat out, left bleeding on the floor..
I opened my heart to that girl, and now she emailed me telling me she doesn't want to know me because I am
'THE MOST SELFISH PERSON SHE'S EVER MET, AND GOD, THAT'S SAYING SOMETHING'.. it's not very often that happens either...

I AM ugly, DEMENTED, UNINTELLIGENT, CLUMSY, SHY, I HAVE THE SUBTLETY OF HALF A BRICK, PATHETIC, LONELY, LONESOME, CLINGY, SPINELESS, MISERABLE, DEPRESSIVE, NEGATIVE..for a start!!
but selfish i DO NOT add to my list of faults..
I don't expect people to know me just from reading this journal, but please everyone, I am not selfish... I am a student, I get very little money, I can't always shower people with gifts, but do i do anything selfish? NO I DO NOT.. and I have no idea WHY this person, who I've told I've loved lots and lots of times (SHE LYINGLY SAID SHE LOVED ME TOO, and that's horrible)
I know for a fact that she has been in the same situations as me, having very little money..

Right now, I am sickening myself trying desperately to claw through, in my mind EVER... SINGLE... CONVERSATION we've had together to try and look at the mannerisms I've used, the ways i've handled situations and i can't find many things AT ALL to warrant someone i truly did look out for saying I'm THE MOST SELFISH PERSON SHE'S EVER MET...

I've told other people about what she's said to me... they've either told me I'm mistaken or that this person is being completely SNOBBY, PETTY, and that she's trying to 'police' things...

When we last met, maybe just maybe I was being seemingly selfish.. but I wasn't.. the people i was being SEEMINGLY selfish to have told me they UNDERSTAND and they know I don't have any money and they could have refused to help me out..
these things are NOTHING to do with her..

and it's stemmed for a long time. I've been speaking to people as well, and they've told me WHAT SHE'S BEEN SAYING ABOUT ME
it's all two faced.
so two faced...

What I'm now thinking is that she befriended me just to appear kind hearted to all of her other 'friends' to seem like she's the best and whatever, and like she was doing me a favour to advertise...
In fact the thoughts trickling through my head at the moment are that she was NEVER EVER my friend.. I haven't known her for that long, considering good friendships, and I think it was my fault for even letting my barriers down...
When I last met her, I thanked her so very very much for helping me out with my problems, for listening, for being there.. and she seemed glad that everything was going okay. But now I know she couldn't have cared less...

thinking about it now, I know she couldn't be bothered with me ever. When I would call her she would always be quick to tell me she was busy or talking to someone else.. I always felt like I was on tenterhooks or whatever. Knowing in my mind that she'd always have someone better she'd rather be talking to her, and that ME calling HER to ask her if things were going okay and calling her telling her that I loved her and that I was always here for HER was nothing but an invasion of her privacy and that if I kept BOTHERING her she would no longer be my friend and think I was being too pushy.

Put yourself in the situation, please, dear reader..
Imagine you really really trust someone, this person says she loves you and you tell her you'll be there for her forever.. imagine you GENUINELY love someone, imagine you would do anything you possibly could to help them, because you know they're depressed and down, just like YOU are, you lie awake at night crying because you know that there's someone there somewhere in the deepest densest city who is there too, just as lonely as you are, perhaps crying like you are.. she's right there... and you cry for her too bacuse she's worth crying for because maybe... just MAYBE.. she may be crying for you too.. because we're like two peas in a pod...
People we're talking about a real friend here, the kind you imagine about.. the kind for whom you think about the passings of time and tide.. you lie awake thinking about how they will get along in life with them, who they will end up marrying.. and you wish them every happiness in the whole wide world.. you wish them well, and I have said to many many time 'Your happiness is my happiness' and genuinely (in the hope here that the dead are witnessing me write this) MEANT IT.... genuinely meant it...

readers, does that sound the kind of thing someone who is SELFISH would say?

I am greiving, in a big way.
I've said this to a few friends, but it feels right now that I am desperately trying to keep my head above this water, this depression otherwise I'm just going to DROWN, DROWN, DROWN in a sea of depression, it sounds fey and it sounds pretentious and.. YES it does sound a wee bit selfish, but if I don't try and scurry about and try to be happy, this wave, this cruel sea is going to consume me, everything that's going wrong in my life is going to crash down on me.. that is how this has made me feel..
does everyone I know view me in this way? is this the kind of person I am, and it's obvious to everyone I know except for me? is that how I am? I'm beginning to think my parents are right about me, all the shit with my stepfather is JUSTIFIED... true or not, that is how this sorry escipade has made me feel. I am losing all of my friends, I can feel it...

I am also angry, angry at myself for trusting someone I so barely knew, subjecting myself to hurt in this way... but she did make me feel secure, she did tell me that she WAS always here for me.

I am truly disappointed

Still, it's the internet, and there ARE some very strange people around...

SO, here we are, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME... will this be my final year on this earth?
Who knows?
Who really cares?
Right now I have my eyes affixed firmly on the present.. and the presents, in fact.

Tonight, it's meal time with the parents and the grandparents (they've already been arguing amongst themselves about where they want to go...
then friday it's get drunk night with my contemparies... (but I have to give blood first, is it really that bad for you if you drink after giving blood? I heard in some country they give you guinness after giving blood... answers on a postcard, please)

many thanks to all those who have sent me cards and presents so far, you are all wonderful xxx

Kes x (And biiig thanks for the whopping 3 compilation CD's he sent me, I'll give 'em a good listen as soon as I get home, I'm positive I will love what's on there, and for the hilarious card!!!!)

Laura x (it was mega early, honey, but thanks loads: I WANT A PAIR OF THOSE BOWLING SHOES!!!)

Lynne 'pins'(?????) x (the card was simply gorgeous, dear, and yes, it is the thought that counts... I guessed what was on the front of the card was a symbol of you and Pete and your.. activities...

everyone else, thanks for your kind messages, it's lovely to feel loved...

Love always, here's to the next 18 years

James x

Well, I have to say that over the past few weeks I have been strangely fascinated and infatuated by....
Breasts!
Womens breasts!!!
Okay, okay, you've made your mind up now, I am truly weird, and, granted I am a little strange I know. But you have to believe me that it really, really is a new thing for me.
At the moment, I'm putting it down simply to just not being observant at all. But maybe it goes a little deeper, I don't know.
it feels like I've suddenly been... not enlightened exactly... or maybe I do mean enlightened... into the in's and out's of the breast.
You have to understand that this is morbid curiosity. I don't find myself thinking 'I want to grope those breasts' I just seem to compare and contrast... I'm not like a pervert, and I still don't really do pornography or glossy 'Lad Mags'.
I don't mean naked breasts at all, either. I just mean just clothed... the girls that go around college.
I write so much in this journal that I don't know whether I've already mentioned this...
I started a new subject here at college, general studies, and this girl called Chloe joined my lesson and sat next to me. We got on really well over a few lessons, and one day I was walking with my friend Brady, and I passed her in the entrance to the cafeteria and I said hi (She affectionately calls me 'JimBob, which I adore)
Brady said after she was out of earshot
'who was she?'
I told him
'Wow, look at those fucking tits, they're huge'.
From that moment on, I've started noticing breasts, and it's really, really, not in order to want to own them for my very own or anything perverted like that.
I mean this morning in Classic Civilasations, my teacher was wearing like a sleeveless vest thingy, like with straps (please, forgive my lack of knowledge of female clothing terms) she's, I guess, in her late forties, but she has such long golden hair unlike anyone else I know her age. And she is... just... so thin...
I happened to be watching her as she marked on the board the lines of compostion on a picture of the Annoyvysos Kouros. And all of a sudden I noticed her breasts too. And I just could not stop looking for about five minutes.
See I told you I was weird.
Just the way in which I seem to instantly notice after seeing the person on bi-weekly occasions for seven fucking months. Surely a normal person would able to tell almost instantly.
Or, at the other end of the scale, surely I would be able to see past this.
I do actually think it's because I'm slow and pathetic and I should really notice things long before I do...

Love to one and all,
James
xx

Today is a busy day.
And yet it really isn't.
I should be doing my Classic Civilisations homework at the moment but as my friends in the Moz Chat are telling me right now, 'there's more to life than books'. I'm not exactly taking advantage. Mary Lawrence is pretty easy going with homework anyhow.

I'm missing my lesson so I can entertain you with stuff like this:Top Ten Things Heterosexuals Need To Know About Gay People:

    10. We didn't invent disco music so stop blaming us.

    9. We're not sure about Ricky Martin either.

    8. We also did not invent the color black; however, we are in complete agreement that you look better in it.

    7 We are secretly happy that Anne Heche is back on your team. She scares us.

    6. Our so-called "gaydar" does not get us more cable stations or better reception.

    5. We think your mini-vans are ever so cute!

    4. David Crosby was not Melissa Etheridge's only choice.

    3. If he is using two or more hair products at any one time then yes, he is.

    2. If she's won Wimbledon sixteen times, she is too.

    And, the number one thing that heterosexuals need to know about gay people is...

    1.
  Relax, we don't want you!

should aide my career...

Love to all

James x