One mistake's all it takes
14.03.06, 7:53 pm

Another day where I had to go sit in the lab in the afternoon and draw pissing brain sections. It sucks so much ultimate ass; I�ve now had to go sit in lab for the last nine thousand days. Or five if you�re after actual facts. Hopefully today was the last time ever, but let�s not go counting any chickens. Tonight I shall be drawing my diagrams up to a larger scale, and to quote Paddy, �Surely that�ll just amplify up the badness though?� Hopefully my helpful labels of �goldy-pinky blobs� and the like will clear matters right up.

So yeah, I got up and went to a lecture on treatment of cancer, which was actual a bit of an ordeal because my brain spent the majority of the 50 minutes screaming, �HOLLY, YOUR MUM DIED OF LUNG CANCER!� like it was breaking news or something. I then went for a coffee with Paddy, and Amy decided to join us and moan on about how ill she was feeling or something� I wasn�t really listening because Amy�s always got something wrong with her when it�s a dissection day. Once she�d gone off to her pre-dissection lecture Paddy and me went over to the library to do some dead-end research on this twatting tract-tracing practical. Highlight of the day was most definitely riding the paternoster up to the Arts Tower computer room with Paddy and watching the Murder She Wrote title sequence that he has recorded on his phone, waving back at Jessica when she waved at us from her bike as she cycles past the screen. Don�t ask why Paddy has it recorded on his phone, just marvel at the fact that Murder She Wrote has the best title music ever.

Oh, rest of my day consisted of then going to a lecture on deafness, and finally heading to bloody lab, before going back to chez Sheffield.

Right, it�s time to turn to things of a less fun nature. I just need to get this entry done and buried, because my lab report isn�t going to write itself and I don�t feel like I can properly concentrate on it when I�m adding to this entry every ten minutes. I�ll do the Rich thing first, as it�s easier. He asked if he could come over Sunday night as he was feeling really lonely, and of course I said yes. Man, it was one of the most depressing conversations ever, and he was on the verge of tears throughout. We talked about how he was doing (badly), and about his mum (he blames her) and how his brother and sister are doing back at home (really badly) and how he�s thinking about dropping out of Uni. He�s already repeating second year, due to his mum�s alcoholism fucking up his exams last year, and in the Christmas results from this year passed three and failed two, so he�ll have two resits in the summer. Obviously I don�t want him to drop out; it�s the last thing that I want, but at the same time I can see his reasons for wanting to. He�s truly messed up at the moment, and I�m really worried that he�s going to end up hurting himself, either intentionally or not.

And finally the Paddy thing, again. Today and yesterday have heavily featured him� you know, we walked into Uni together, did our lectures together, bought lunch and ate it together, got coffee and shared a piece of cheesecake, sat in the labs and worked together, looked up journals together and all the time had lovely, pointless conversations about things like how to make the perfect cup of tea, or whether flapjack should have fruit in it or not. And the whole time we�re doing this I feel a mixture of dizzy happiness and like something�s cutting up my insides. I�m sorry I write about this so much; I�m sorry that I babble on and on about it, and write the same old stuff and describe the same old situations. Truth is, I know what I have to do, but I�m just too afraid to do it. When I get back home I wander around with everything just bottled up inside, and when I do that it always comes out as irritation or stress, and people keep starting conversations with me waiting for me to tell them what�s wrong and I just don�t want to, because if I do I�ll just crumple. I have to do it; I have to just do it, but I�m so afraid of what�s going to happen.

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