This is Me in song form!

I would say I'm sorry If I thought that it would change your mind But I know that this time I've said too much Been too unkind I try to laugh about it Cover it all up with lies I try and Laugh about it Hiding the tears in my eyes 'cause boys don't cry Boys don't cry I would break down at your feet And beg forgiveness Plead with you But I know that It's too late And now there's nothing I can do So I try to laugh about it Cover it all up with lies I try to laugh about it Hiding the tears in my eyes 'cause boys don't cry I would tell you That I loved you If I thought that you would stay But I know that it's no use That you've already Gone away Misjudged your limits Pushed you too far Took you for granted I thought that you needed me more Now I would do most anything To get you back by my side But I just Keep on laughing Hiding the tears in my eyes 'cause boys don't cry Boys don't cry Boys don't cry

Ill much?

People don’t care that I am ill. I told Iain and Fiona, alleged best friends, but they don’t care.

Recently I have started dreaming every night, which I have never done before. On top of that, I have been having delusions of grandeur. I have been believing that I was invincible and could be anything or anyone. Now it has got to the point that I can’t tell the difference between my dreams and reality. The dreams consist of such mundanity as well. Talking to people about far on episodes in TV programmes, that it turns out they are only about to start watching for the first time. Speaking to people on MSN about their holidays that they have not yet been on. Finding my iPod that was missing for months, and then actually finding it in that exact place.

I’ll keep you updated.

Pre-Aberdeen

I phoned Euan today. He must have been having sex, because he sounded really exasperated and dried out, like a desert jelly fish. I decided to let him catch his breath, so phoned back a few minutes later. The nature of the phone-call was to organise going to Aberdeen on the 30th of this month. It is a friend’s birthday and she’s having a party, so a wee group of us decided to go up and celebrate with her.

I told Euan about Megabus prices, times and dates, but he said he wasn’t “willing to pay £11 for a return, if he’d have to sit next to some peewee smelling retard again”. I never knew he was still bitter about sitting next to Lisa Stott going to Edinburgh last month, but hey ho.

It was at this time that I did the honourable and noble thing and offered to drive up instead. Euan loved the idea, as he does with all of my ideas. If there is something he loves in life, it’s my driving. He loves it slightly more than he loves me, and just slightly less than he loves Aberdeen.

For some reason, that boy has an Aberdeen fetish. I have always said that the dregs who dwell in Aberdeen are “sheep fornicators” who should “have their genitals removed and given to science”, but Euan loves them. He once told me that he believes in reincarnation. He said that in his past life he was a man in Aberdeen, but he did something horrible (which I wont disclose here (he fucked his sister)) and now has to live out life as him, before he can be reincarnated again as Aberdeen. I tried explaining that that might just be all fiction, but he wasn’t standing for any of it. Poor wee blighter… gotta love his spirit, though!