My mother kindly opened a letter for me and now knows that Capital One want £670 or something.
Little does she know that that’s only about 45% of the amount that debt collectors want off me. Bwahahaha.
O’ Tumblr. How I would like to have money and friends. Or at least some new pots for my tomatoes and peppers.
What am I doing?
So I got my application in and my personal statement is good. I can’t post it here because ucas will put it through google probably and find my blog and decide I’m in no fit state to be outside of a mental institution.
The back of my head has been hurting a lot.
I know I’ve filled my tumblr complaining quota for the week but man, shit and bollocks.
I am upset by occasional and unmistakeable hints from both parents that they see me as an abject failure and disappointment. Everyone already knows I’m fucking shit but it’s not nice to know that everyone thinks that.
Yes,
at the moment I feel quite troubled. The KFC gave me no answers.
When I got sacked from Sainsburys I shouldn’t have been so pathetic and passive. Things should have been shouted. But then I didn’t know what I know now.
When I was at Notre Dame I should have cut my hair a bit shorter and not spent 2 whole days lying on the floor at the bottom of a fire escape.
The year at Ruskin could have gone a bit better than it did.
Living in Meanwood towers was a mistake.
I shouldn’t have done most of the things I’ve done in the past five years.
I’ve suffered from paranoia recently.
Also I should get my UCAS thing done but what do I put because the past five years have been one failure after another.
A few weeks ago when someone mentioned to someone else in a conversation that I’d just come back from four months in Thailand, the person replied “Oh, finding yourself? That’s nice” in the coolest, most dismissive way possible.
I do have a big problem with eye contact.
I need a new profile picture for my Facebook in order for people to like me.
I’ve made stuff really difficult for myself. Fuck. Not Leeds city college. That would be bad news.
