8am

I can't handle peple anymore he told me. Ive reached a new level of my depression, I am letting my mind eating me up from inside and out. Just lean to it I guess. My very homosexual buddy is coming over with a bottle, maybe he can smash it on my head. I tell him I can't cause tomorrow morning I am meeting my mums very young ginger electrian. 8am sharp. Workingclass men never been hotter. Everyday he drills holes and run cables along mothers kitchen walls, I wonder if he always gets harrassed by married woman who wish their husband was half the man he is. My homo buddy assures me that I always look good although I look like a washed out whore that eats avocado.

ha!

I read all my old posts last night, not feeling sorry for myself one bit. Slighty embarrassed at times. What a life, what a party, what a joyous slut! Let's be honest, my so called "modelling days" in Singapore was as interesting as being stuck in traffic. The rant about being a workoloholic was just me being a narcissist having a 10am psychosis. No men were harmed in the making of this movie. And the proceedings went to my useless heart. Loving him is always easy, loving myself is something else. Wednesday therapy booked.