Stop it. I'm far too sober for this kind of conversation

Hmm, another regurgitated college day. The coursework’s commencing in quite a few subjects now, so the proverbial heat is on. I spent the weekend quite blown away, avoiding my parents in any way I could. There was a concert with the Senior Band on Saturday, so I turned up quite mashed, my mind all over the place. I was very aware that Peaches was only a few metres away watching with the rest of the audience. But nevertheless, it seemed fine. In the interval, I introduced her to Miss H and her Mum. Peaches was extremely shy, but I honestly don’t blame her. I suppose in that situation I’d do something mind numbingly stupid and make a nutter out of myself, so I guess keeping tight-lipped is a better way to go.

Miss H and James were over the other side of the room. With Peaches in my arms, I kept glancing over and she’d glance back. It seemed almost warped that we’d both gone our own ways, we both had more functional and beautiful relationships than ours had been, and we were both happy. I assume she’s happy at least. Nevertheless, we wandered back into the main hall, and the concert carried on. She came back and slept over. Being around her is still as intoxicating as ever. Her gentle and dirty giggles, her seductive looks that she can pull from miles away, and it’ll light up something animal in me. But it’s more than that. It’s a healthy obsession. Has this been the first time I’ve been around someone for prolonged amounts of time, and not got bored sick? It’s far from that. The novelty of intimacy has been replaced with feelings of indescribable closeness. I didn’t think I was built for this kind of thing. Not built for ‘love’ at any rate. Moi?

I came into college this morning quite mashed from last night. But safe to say after a lesson of computing, I was more than sobered. I ache for a cigarette. I seem to be pointlessly questioning things recently with no particular reply from the universe. Sometimes I detach and look around – ask what the fucking point is. We get so caught up in issues that, frankly, don’t mean jack. Especially me. Either everything matters, nothing matters, or only some things matter. If the latter is true, then how the fuck are you supposed to choose between? When you’re hated by at least someone for every moral decision, how can you just disregard their opinion, carry on, and try not to be worried about being immoral or incorrect? If any opinion held by the majority is correct, what then? What if you’re so self conscious that you’ll NEVER break free? Depression is all I seem to get from these kinds of thoughts, not freedom from my thinking patterns. Maybe it’s the answered that need to be asked, and there ARE no questions.

Well fuck it. It’s the Easter Holidays in a week, so I’m going to spend it sloshed, mashed, and in deep states of consciousness.
Helix.