Monday, January 28, 2013

Leona's birthday @ Swisshôtel:

Matin and Sean were throwing up in the toilet while the girls and I were jumping and making hell of a noise on the bed. We were so drunk and loud that a few calls were made to our room before there was a knock on our door (which I bravely answered - liquid courage right there) by a staff who gave us some kind of warning (none of which was registered in my head). I think all I said was OK/ I'm sorry/ I don't know/ I really don't know. Also, I have absolutely no recollection of how I got home.


The Picnic from Marie Turnor! Yayyy I love it! Thank you :*

This space is so neglected because I've been rather occupied recently, and also because I don't find the need for any avenue to seek solace anymore.

I'm very happy. It's strange and refreshing at the same time, how happy a person I've become.

Jeanette Winterson said happy is an adult word because you don't have to ask a child about happy - they are or they are not. Adults talk about happy because largely there are not.

And largely I was not.

Largely I was fucking miserable and fucking insecure and fucking inadequate, until I met Sean. He makes me happy, and he makes me smile every single day. :)

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