Bit emotionally rubbish
04.04.06, 11:39 am

God, I really wish stupid Christine Booth would stop sending me sodding emails about the Biology Ball. There is no way that I�m going, mostly due to the fact that it has a long tradition of sucking ultimate ass but also because of the huge disaster that constituted the first year Sorby ball, which has consequently tainted my view of all balls in general. I think they�re charging something stupid like forty quid a ticket too, plus they�re letting all the Molecular Cell Biologists and Biophysicists go. Odds on I�d get stuck on a table with a load of them.

So, I�m happy to report that Zoe is actually who she says she is, and that I didn�t instead get abducted by some sweaty pervert called Albert. Speaking of which, the train down to Cleethorpes was full of the weirdest inbreds I�ve ever seen � I was sat at a table and put my bag on the seat next to me and my feet up on the chair opposite me and pretended to be asleep, just so that nobody would sit next to me. Anyway, getting back to the topic in hand. You know, it feels kind�ve weird writing about it, and I don�t really want to sound like some kind of cheeseball (I�m already a little emotionally fucked anyway, which this entry will no doubt bear the brunt of later on), so I�ll just say that Zoe is truly lovely, more lovely than her diary could ever express, and I had a fantastic time. Except the part when it frickin� hailed in April. Everything was good bar that, although I think I may have been a bit nob-like and also talked too much.

Landed back at chez Sheffield about half eight � met Em on the top of our road, who was on her way to Bar One. She immediately gave me a, �And where have you been all day?�, which I amazingly managed to palm off just with a vague, �Been seeing my friend, I told you last night.� I think I caught a chill from walking home from the tram stop with not enough clothes on, as I started to feel progressively more unwell as the evening went on. The fact that my tea consisted of three brownies probably didn�t help the unwellness either (I was too lazy to cook a meal out of my non-existant food). Anyway, I ended up going to bed at half ten, but didn�t get to sleep until about three due to my stupid hot-and-cold thing I had going on. Em probably hates me quite a lot for the amount of clumping around I did last night; maybe I should bake her a cake or something.

Anyway, I�m off to Manchester tonight for a week to do the family thing. I really don�t want to go � home�s always interesting for roughly three hours after I arrive, before my dad runs out of things to tell me about his life and wanders off to trawl through Ebay for the rest of the evening. Plus my sister�s got exams on at the moment, and so spends every day holed up in my room (I have to sleep in Ciaran�s room). I�ll have work and stuff to do (need to write the bloody Long QT thing) but I�ll be bored and lonely and miss my friends. I�d go down to Nottingham to see my old friends but I don�t really think I can afford it � train tickets are twenty quid and I�m dangerously close to my overdraft limit. Life seriously just stops when I�m not at Uni; I guess it�d be different if I still lived in Notts, but whatever, no one can help that.

Okay fine, reason for my vaguely miserable mood and why I�m banging on about missing my friends so much. I�m going to explain myself and then just post it and run away, because I�m brave like that. The Paddy stuff that I�ve successfully managed to repress so far is forcing its way into my thoughts and I hate it. Like I was saying to Mel a few days ago, it was like I was just going on as normal, and that it hadn�t really sunk in that he felt nothing for me. I think it�s sinking in now though. Consequently, as well as all the crap �He�s so fantastic and I want him� stuff that I�ve got going on, my self-esteem is taking a severe beating. I�d always just think, �It�s okay, Paddy feels something for you at least, even if no one else does� but I don�t have that anymore. Now I�m just starting to think, �Why doesn�t he want me? What�s wrong with me?�, followed inevitably by, �God, why doesn�t anyone want me? Is anyone ever actually going to want me?� God, I suck.

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