I hate my life.
No really I do. It's totally uninteresting, because I make it so. I'll spare you the I'm-a-failure-blah-blah rant, but that's how I feel.
Every tiny thing make me feel shit these days. I'm not even getting out of the house cos none of my friends are 'free' these days, and I don't feel like doing anything on my own, cos I'm not used to doing things on my own anymore. Even going to the cinema on my own - which I used to love - doesn't seem appealing now. Meh.
On a better note, I now have a brand new shelf with looooads of room for new dvds... I love Ikea. Star Trek figures and my Tardis are on top, and they look good on it.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna wallow in self-pity... or not.
Every tiny thing make me feel shit these days. I'm not even getting out of the house cos none of my friends are 'free' these days, and I don't feel like doing anything on my own, cos I'm not used to doing things on my own anymore. Even going to the cinema on my own - which I used to love - doesn't seem appealing now. Meh.
On a better note, I now have a brand new shelf with looooads of room for new dvds... I love Ikea. Star Trek figures and my Tardis are on top, and they look good on it.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna wallow in self-pity... or not.