Summary

It's Wednesday and it feels like the days have flown past.

I feel a bit shit, but i shouldn't. I've just said yes to going to Italy with Natty Dred, the italian guy i met last thursday. It's all going very fast and it's wonderful because i actually get turned on by him..and he is a man..which is strange. It's all very serendipidous..we went to see a film; Vicky Christina Barcelona, last night. It was percect, Woody Allen directed and the satyrical witt really shone through. It was halarious in parts, absolutely brilliantly directed. A bit like The Royal Tenumbaums but in love story format. It was just like the relationship which he and i share, crazy and halarious and stupid but very enjoyable. He is a lovely guy.

He asked me yesterday, if i was still in love with the friend, Hg, which i told him about before. I didn't answer, changing the subject and swiftly ignoring the question. I still am..but it's turned into a dying love, that will never be actualised and that will just sit in my chest, hurting, from time to time. It's rubbish. Truely rubbish. There is a hot italian guy falling for me but all i want [and not even a tangible kind of want, all i long for in an idealistic, perfect, joyous world that evidently does not exist] is her. But i don't even know how i can manage to still feel this, it's not real. It never will be real and i try to push it down and squash it but still it erupts in sadness sometimes.

It needs to resolve itself. And it will, it will either go away by itself and return to normal [not that there ever was a normal] or it'll explode. I'm willing to bet at least a hundred quid that there will be some sort of explosion, there usually is in my life.

But here's to Italy. And missing a week of Uni, which i will most hopefully catch up with.