At times like this it feels like everyone is put here purely to piss me off; sat in the “quiet” coach on a train to Birmingham, where no one on in the fucking coach is being quiet. I am now adding to that and pissing other people off as my super long red false nails are tap tap tapping on the keyboard. Im trying to make it not, but they are just too long.
The couple several rows behind are alternately kissing and the man reading some bollocks aloud to the girl as if she is some mental retard. A status which is confirmed by her ridiculous comments and random, raucous laughter. Two rows ahead of me is a woman, presumably a single parent, with two ginger kids. I have no problem with gingers. But kids in the “quiet” coach? Whos dumb idea is that? Did they book those tickets or just straight up ignored the QUIET signs? I feel slightly sorry the woman behind me and the man over the aisle, both dozing or trying to, as I was before the kids moved into the seat infront of me to play. Im sure my typing isn’t the worst of sounds in this cacufany of vulgarity, compulsory in public transport hell.
All I can hear now is the rustling of paper. What is going on? How is there that much paper to rustle? Have the children given in to the boredom of the slow running Sunday night train and ripped into all the presents single mom has bought them to compensate for the lack of father in their life?
Shit the battery on my computer is dying. Maybe I should stop typing and just carry on drowning out the sounds with the music, rather than whip myself into a literary frenzy over something I cannot control or escape. It just always seems like I pick the worst place to sit! I know it is part of who I am as an only child that I feel incapable of making the right decision, and that every decision is the wrong one, but it still causes me a lot of stress! The wrong seat, the wrong meal, the wrong outfit, the wrong friends, the wrong boys. The grass is a lot greener anywhere outside my world. However, contradictory to that it is everything outside my world which annoys me, and what I also love and find amazing and fascinating.
As Pampy was dying, I gained an empathy with the rest of mankind. I understood that everyone is special and has a awful things happen every second. Or some bollocks like that. I now feel totally different again and all empathy has gone out the window so I don’t remember the new positive insights and feelings. I do look around often and wonder how many of the people around me are currently coping or trying to cope with a death. And that brings back some empathy.
Oh the baby at the back of the coach is crying away now. Thrilling to everyone onboard I’m sure. And even with my headphones feeling deafeningly loud I can still hear the shitty ginger kids talking. We are sat, not moving now outside Rugby. Mmm Rugby boys.
I found Andrew Kinnaird on Facebook a few weeks ago and added him. He messaged me and we had a bit of a convo, ending in him asking, basically, if he could fuck me. And was offended when my immediate response wasn’t yes! Jane Eaton’s older brother also wants to meet up with me. I don’t really remember being particularly friendly with him, and now he is married to a woman who had a stroke. So maybe a bit of reliving his youth , thinking of other better lifes that could have been had, or a desire take advantage of an old connection to get a bit of non disabled fucking might be going on there!
Hmm mean. I thought I was a pretty angry person. Well I am, any small thing makes me crazy mad, which isn’t great fun. But I don’t do anything with that anger. I am barely even passive aggressive. I am basically a whinging passive. And I am either overly happy or I hate everyone and everything. And when I am in one I cannot see the other at all. Its like I could never be the other again cause the moment I am in is so strong. But I do know that is the way I work, so it is pretty hard to reconcile these reactions and emotions and the actual banality of real life. Cause nothing ever happens to me. And when big stuff has happened that is when my reactions are at their smallest. I hate dramatising or talking about something that is actually bad. But I love making the small things mega. Like boys, I can go on about all of that for days and not tire, get really wound up over wether I will hear from them, and how much I fancy them. But when the past three people I have had sex with have done it without my consent, or me even wanting it to happen, I don’t bat much of an eyelid. It happened, get on with it. Other people would be torn up and it would totally effect them. But I don’t feel anything. I am a bit pissed off, but im not worried about myself. But that may have a large factor to do with my relationship with men and sex, which is a whole other chapter. Or sentence. I have always had sex with a lot of men, mostly when drunk, most I cant remember and that is the way sx is and always has been with me from the first time to the most recent time. So I just see it as another messy drunen mistake. Silly. But the only difference is I don’t find it as funny as I used to. I am not a kid anymore and that kind of mess is disrespectable to my adulthood.
And at other times I think I am totally mental and lost it a long time time ago, if I ever had it. I have no grip on reality and normal values. I think everyway I think is wrong and back to front and messed up and I am totally alone and will always be. Life is so polar to me. Paralytic, sober, or pissed of im not paralytic. Married or completely datelessly single. fucking anyone and everyone or totally monogamous. Extaticly happy and in love with the world, or hating everything and everyone or depressed at feeling nothingness. Loads of energy or falling asleep all the time. In love with myself, or resigned to my imperfection. Full makeup and hair dos and outfits, or no make up or having it smudged all over my face having not washed in week, wearing the same pyjamas. Career or partying. Sadist or masochist.
Getting bored of listing opposites. And I am almost at Birmingham. Having Christmas with dad this year. Apparently it is going to be an open house buffet event. I am quite looking forward to it, especially if everyone is relaxed. Which actually, thinking about it, is almost an impossibility. But I can wear pyjamas and read and doze for nearly three days.
