Talked to Kesh today
I miss you.
X

Why do we have to have so much anger?
Why do we have to hurt?
Do we have to isolate ourselves from who we really are, to care?
It makes everything ugly.
Just stop.
Stop.

OHMYGADDDZZZ (heyho).

It's 1:20 am, Singfest was A-M-A-Z-I-NG. I couldn't believe that Travis was right in front of me, right in front. (So a pinching-fest began to make sure it was real).

I'm super tired right now, so I'll leave the post as it is, I'll come back to edit, and add the pictures.

Time to get recharged for tomorrow.

I'm still kinda lazy to post...post. But I'll put up the pictures tho! (More than enough word in one if you get what I mean, heh- yes roll your eyes)

MUCH LOVE.

I miss the lights
I miss the sounds
I miss my old room
I miss the school
I miss the ice rink next to the Eye
I miss the fall
I miss the spring
I miss the summer
I miss the winter
I miss the end of year Thorpe Park school trips
I miss the train tracks behind the house
I miss the fish and chip shop with the horrible pickles in jars
I miss seeing the guy at blockbusters get the titles wrong everytime
I miss having my jacket potato at Convent Garden
I miss complaining how the char kway teow never tasted how it supposed to
I miss Bayswater
I miss the hour long pub stops in the country
I miss Jazzy
I miss stubborn Chestnut
I miss the stupid squirrel that wrecked the bird food cage every year
I miss home.
(& I miss the dishwasher)
What happens when the good times run out.

It's been three years. Three and a half. It feel like yesterday I looked out of the plane and smiled goodbye. Yet, it's the second place in the whole world I miss the most.

It's the same with everyone I know here, everyone who's not from here misses where they're from, no matter how near, so bad.

One more month.

Heyho.

I can't believe this.

The computer crashed again and is irrevivable.

Every, all my files, are gone. Again. Everything. Dillion's pictures are all gone. All my songs are gone.

And who's fault is it, who had all the blame put on her. I wonder. I feel like a punch bag under miscellaneous anger release. Bring it on, I should be the one making noise - I lost everything important, and there's no replacement.

I can't type anymore.

Screw you.