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22:42 - Jan. 05, 2004
cos I can't wait to figure out what's wrong with me, so i can say this is how i used to be
I borrowed a laptop from work so I could work at home, but now I've finished and I'm just loving sitting here with it on my lap, listening to Athlete and being on my own on my sofa and doing netty stuff.

With all the predictability of Mystic Meg being wrong, work is back to manic-stations and people complaining, but nontheless I feel strangely upbeat.

Found out yesterday that my dad got put on the new chemical trials. It was 50/50 between that and an established drug with very poor results, so he got the right result for a change. This means he's going back to Bristol tomorrow for new chemotherapy. It's funny to think I'm cheerful about my dad going on chemo, but in perspective, it's about the best thing I could hope for at the moment - HOPE itself. I know it might not work. Hell, it probably won't work and I'll still see my dad go down a completely horrendous path of deteriorating health and a slow death. But at least now I can hope again. I have something to be optimistic about. And that's important too.

Remember how I was meant to be going into a new kind of therapy? I haven't booked it. I was meant to keep a special kind of diary before I could go back and I haven't done it. I still could, but there's a big part of me that doesn't want to. Someone else I know is going for counselling, and I just can't compare myself to her. I already have enough in common with her to scare me, and if you knew who I was talking about, with one word, you'd just say "ah, okay". I can't be like her, for a million and one reasons. And going back to therapy would be another parallel I don't want to make.

Not only that but I feel like I can get through this now. I know my dad will die and it will be horrific and there'll be more tears than you would ever want to mop up, but that's life. Or, rather it's death, but that's still part of life, and I don't think I've hit the point where I can't deal with it. I'm not on any meds and I just want to face it head on. So I think that's what I'm going to do, but I may change my mind and that's going to be fine too.

I had a spaz attack on Sunday. Me and Chris had been on the sofa for what felt like forever and decided we had to leave the house. So we went to Namco Station at County Hall to waste money in the slot machines and kiddy bowling. It was cold so Chris lent me his ear warmer, which is like a headband you just wear around your ears. When we go there I took it off and stuffed it in the hood of his coat. He told me not too, said I would lose it. I scoffed and left it there, too precious to carry this tiny thing myself. Well of course by the time we went to leave and it was chilly ear weather, I went to reach in the hood and it was gone. I scoured the place, retraced our steps and couldn't find it. I asked for lost property with the attendant and security guard, I filled out a lost property form (over an EAR WARMER, they must have thought I was mad) and by this point I was nearly in tears. Not because the ear warmer was gone so much as I was just mad with myself. It's the sort of thing I DO. I mess up, lose someone else's thing, get it wrong. And although Chris was cool about it, I just didn't want to be that person anymore, that person who screws up. And by then, it wasn't that I'd lost the ear warmer at all, it was that I was the kind of person who got in a sulk with myself over such a non-event.

If you've read this far, thank you. I'm getting sick of myself just retelling it.

So that's the kind of thing really, that I hate, that I want to stop. And people say that it's possible to change, to make yourself different. I hope that's true because I can't beat myself up forever about things that aren't even real. How can I have children if I still behave like one myself? Will Chris want to stay with me when I don't even like myself? It's more than that lately. I hate the way I look, hate my bad skin, my shadowed eyes. The whites of my eyes aren't white, I hate how big my face is and can only dream of Trinny and Susannah helping me overhaul my tomboy's wardrobe. But I guess it'll pass. There was a time when I was confident about my looks, my body, who I am. I used to think I was cool.

Now I want the world to love me, pledges of love in letters scented and unsigned, men to make passes at me, girls to adore me, to want to be me, people to savour every available piece of me the way I do when I think someone is cool.

We found the ear warmer by the way, on top of the machine where you have to move the gripper claw to pick up a teddy. I wanted a Fimble like Alyssa's and Chris had tried to win me one.

 

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