NAFFED OFF.

Yeah, that's me. Your ever so happy all smiles pop tart is in a jam.

Ok, alright - so I aint your sugar coated pop tart after all. Maybe I am always a moaner. I do my best to keep my chin up and try to be pleasant, but today I just cannot be bothered. What's the point? Iv'e got no cheery stuff to stick in this diary, it's all bollocks. I'm well narked. Sometimes you just work and you plot and you plan and you try and try and you keep smiling and doing positive stuff and nothing seems to happen does it. You know the score. It's friday flipping night and I've sat here getting square eyes all the damned day long and what for? Sweet FA. I should be out dancing or smiling and hugging someone or something like that. I'm young, I'm free and I'm certainly not a boring bloody git but here I am, sat here with head on desk doing absolutely nuffink. Iv'e been toying with the idea of going out to a club or something to entertain myself and have a break but I havent quite got the balls to go out and do it. Don't ask why because I just dunno and I can't answer that. I suppose I could do it but Iv'e got all this paranoia about going out on my own and having a stupid accident or having my drink spiked or something stupid like that so I don't feel I ought to go. Suppose I do try and trust my gut and it's yelling no at me. So here I am, stopping in and revelling in this self inflicted pit of misery like a greedy non climbing wingless insect in a jam jar. Fuck it.