i bloody hate clocks that tick...

'without you here, there is less to say...'

points if you can name that tune...

i had no idea just how much of my time the boy had monopolised without me realising. people often talk of the emptiness that accompanies mourning.

even from 200 miles away, he still took up most of my time. i could just think about him for whole walks to work. i could look at him for hours. we talked for an hour every night on the phone. dinner was often late because i'd be phoning him asking how to make the sauce and get a whole history of the sauce given to me along with the recipe. and being a girl, i talked about him alot, to my friends.

i feel like the guy in about a boy, i feel like i'm budgeting my time. smoking a cigarette: two units (if its a rollie, one if its a straight). putting kettle on for tea: one unit. the train-ride to bristol at 7:48am: ten units, one episode of the west wing: six units.....

i have no focal point to my day. i feel bored, lonely, frustrated and aimless.

in my better moments i am signing on for autumn evening classes in spanish, registering with the local amnesty group. planning to go to hope church on sundays, arranging dinners with friends to ease my way back into life in bristol, thinking about having a holiday after my exams, getting on with study, re-arranging my workstation and keeping up with my new daily skincare regime.

but in my worst moments, i honestly feel that without you here, there is less to say.