Days sober: 9 – almost double-figures.

Reading: The Book of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa – I am about to start reading it after this post, I am so excited, I have a feeling that this book will change my life the way Kafka’s journals did, or Hesse’s Steppenwolf did.

Wearing: COLOUR. I know. Actual colour: a colourful top, and colourful earrings, and bright red lips. But then of course the rest of my clothing is black, because I always wear black, because Johnny always wore black.


Listening: West Coast by Lana del Rey has been stuck in my head all day. I also listened to St. Vincent’s self-titled most recent album, which I didn’t rate very highly at all. And Riptide by Vance Joy because it makes me happy. And then tunes by The War On Drugs, Milky Chance, Lykke Li, The Holidays, British India and New Gods.

Eating: nothing. Might go mad and order pizza, blaming it on my being scared to leave the house as opposed to laziness.

Drinking: No alcohol :’) It’s fucking killing me and I really want a drink, but I am sticking to water because even though I feel physically weak, secretly I am stronger than the chemicals in my brain.


Thinking: about the unlikely.

Searching: for the perfect 1 bedroom flat.

Missing: my intelligence, my ability to process information, my resilience, my memories, my confidence, my flat stomach, my friends, my ex-boyfriends = basically, I am missing everything that my diseases have stolen from me. The old me is dead. The current me is barely breathing.

Dreaming: of falling asleep next to someone that I love. And dreaming of Paris in the sunshine, as usual.

Trying: to keep positive, to stay sober, to find a flat, to stop being terrified of being alive.

Smoking: Marlboro Lights from Russia.

Wishing: that things will get better.

Wanting: a massage – desperately. My neck, shoulders, back and legs are fucking killing me.

Writing: a scathing review of Koren Zailckas’ Smashed: Growing Up A Drunk Girl – watch this space.

Loving: you, always.

And this dress – if I owned this dress I would wear it every day. Even just to cross over to Mr Patel’s in the morning to buy cigarettes, or to go to Tesco, or go to the hospital for a blood test, I would wear this dress. Who am I kidding, I would sleep in it, I actually can’t get over it, agh, so beautiful!

9tzjop-l (1)

2 thoughts on “090615

  1. No doubt both your body and mind are processing a lot of crap and that alone will be exhausting. Give it time. Be kind to yourself. But not so kind that you let yourself relapse.
    I’m reading positivity in your words and the genuine you coming through again. Read those books, wear those colours, build up the person you want to be. I know you can.

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