Facebook, the Stealer of Time

This website will actually kill me. I spend so much time on it it's unreal. Hours a day, hours. Not just an hour but hours, doing not that much..essentially, looking for good club nights..a bit of talking to friends, looking at a few pictures, perhaps some light browsing aka STALKING of other peoples profiles, is all that really occurs. Everyone in facebookland could live without it, but its just so amusing. And addictive.

Enough about facebook, it has caused me to porcrastinate too much already today. I woke up at 2 and have done bugger all. Well, i looked up the course books we need and it turns out there aren't any specialist cardiovascular books that they recomend. Apart from that i've done nothing. I had a long chat with a strange one who lives in our corridoor and who i'll be living with next year. She should be called a friend but i've had about as much conversation with her as a stone. So it was nice to chat to her for a while, not that anything that came out of my mouth was of any remote importance, it never really is.

Something happened last night. We were all very wasted, as happens when we go out on the lash with the primary aim of just getting pissed and having a chat. That's what happens when you go out with non-dancers, you just sit and get progressively more pissed as there is only talking to be done. Which is a fantastic concept, but it just means you get very drunk. I'd much rather sit and drink tea in a bar, then get up and dance around like a fairy to amazing music which i've paid to come and hear, and then maybe drink some more tea [which will inevitably be cheaper than booze as its not taxed as heavily and which will be where you save the money]. I don't quite get non-dancers or people that go out just to get leathered. Dancing to good music is just too fun, its just too amazing. It enables you to connect on a completely different level which the people around you as everyone is moving, close to each other, in different ways and shapes and enjoying the same sound.

But, anyway. We were all very pissed, Li and i somehow had an arguement because i wouldn't buy him some chips and so he wouldn't give me some fags..

It was horrible. We were sat in his room, after i'd left my own with several people still in it, and i knew something bad was going to come, it just had that feeling. I didn't understand the relation between what he was talking about and the arguement we were having. I don't think there was one. I didn't have the money for the chips, well, i did, but i knew i couldn't spend it, and i tried to explain that to him. He'd bought cans to take home because he likes drinking.

He was talking about a night out we'd had a while ago, where he had covered the lights that were embedded in the tables because he thought there were camera's in them. At that time i just wrote it off as him being a piss-head playing the fool but i think he'd actually believed. He was talking about that, and i couldn't find the connection to what we were supposed to be arguing about. He was starting to cry. I felt my face harden and suddenly became conscious of what it ws doing, with a bit of asking, he eventually told me that he sees things. Things that are not real. He was crying properly by this point.

I just wanted to kiss him and hold him, this boy who is nearly 6 foot 4 and who walks around in doc martins and a leather jacket looking like a terrifying skin head. Who sits and drinks on his own in metal pubs, regularly.

This was essentially porcrastination. I don't know what on earth will happen with Li, i am going to make an appointment with Student Services and hope he'll attend. He needs proper help, someone to actually talk to that knows what they are saying, i don't. And by the sound of things he needs to take some anti-psychotics also. But it's not about the seeing things, and stopping them from being seen, it's about how fucked up his head is inside. It has the potential to get very bad, and the amount he drinks is not helping him. I truely believe he is an alcoholic. He drinks twice the pace i do when we go out, so ends up drinking twice as much as me.

I've written this in avoidance of writting a letter to my Father. I want to write "i don't think i can do this" but if i don't even try it'll never happen. I just can't sit and cry anymore. I don't know how to start. I don't know what to say, but i know it's been far too long and if i leave it any longer i never will have a father. It has to be done. I have to face up to it and be an adult, i have to. I can't bury my head in the sand anymore. I wish i had a fairy, to give me the gift of understanding.