I achieved less than 30% in my last six A2 mocks and had lengthy and serious discussions with several of my teachers after lessons today. I need to fucking cease failing at life because, no matter what I say, I actually do care a bit. At least doing badly in classes makes me look cool – still, I'll deal with it.
Sammie was irritating because he whined about a passport photograph of Catriona nine times over. I can't explain to him that I fully understand, but that he's wrong. He is forgiven though.
Laura texted me in physics to say she's broken up with Graham – it was devastating news. The way they made each other smile provided some of my happiest moments. The worst part is that they are both moranic and, as such, it's almost certainly due to retarded reasons (duh). I fucking hate gayboys who are cute then they only break with lovers so as to not be a "burden" and the like or because they're so filled with self-loathing that they can't bring themselves to see any worth in the mirror. I hoped something would get sorted out but then gave up. If anyone out there is fucking up something good because of misunderstandings, please just learn to communicate, kiddies.
And then I was struck with background echoes of sadness because I remember I care that Holly hasn't communicated with me. I also continually make myself upset by talking to Sophie who's clearly re-established herself as way out of my league and insists on moaning about her boyffffffuhfuhfuh. Castration is the answer I tell you.
Good one: Laura now hates me for mentioning the break up to her friends just as I find out that, for some reason, I was the only one meant to know.
Later on I can laugh at myself for trying so hard to be hurt again like in a million bad movies. I convince myself that Sophie might genuinely want to be a friend, before noticing that she only speaks to me when I've initiated conversations in order to be polite. Even then she only half-heartedly talks about things that end up making me feel sad. Fucking hell: I need to stop analysing my own lack of penis length like a prepubescent. I still flirt outrageously and she laughs it off in that long-perfected soul-crushing way. It so annoying because I still think she's hott despite continually misreading her unenthusiastic politeness as vague affection. But then I have been in the sort of mood where I need to be pissed off by the whole, "you're a really sweet boy" and "I know I can talk to you, Jon, if I'm feeling upset or my boyfriends dump me" thing...
And then, out of the fucking blue, Lois emails me on the 15th of May. How long has it been? About two years? She says we should meet up, haha.
Still, I cheer up by reminding myself of the fact that Suda really does fail at existence. And after all, when I'm not being a self-indulgent prick, I'll admit that life's been great for ages. Apart from examination stations, the only things that make me ride the waaaaahmbulance could, as ever, easily and instantly be solved by severing my penis. I'll say it over and over until you morons understand.
This entry was brought to you by yet more tedium and my almost-complete lack of motivation.