I know it's tapping in horribly to the current zeitgeist but please can I just make it completely public how much I hate Valentine's day. And no, not for the normal reasons of it's too commercial and we should love each other no matter what day it is bollocks.
me: I have no odd quirks whatsoever
her: yes, dear, you go on believing that. We'll just point and laugh
me: you're metaphorically patting me on the head, aren't you?
her: maybe...
I might have been lying. I am sure that somewhere underneath this very complex (yet stunningly beautiful) being that there are elements of weirdness. I just can't think of any.
I mean, come on, I had a happy childhood, my parents are still together, I don't have an axe murderer for a boyfriend (although this is yet to be proved. Another day with me might turn him, you never know).
I am moderately intelligent (despite the bad spelling) I got a solid drinking degree. I am of average height, average (ish) weight, brown hair, brown eyes. The only distinguishing feature is a scar on my arm where I had an injection.
When people met me, what do they think? Do they remember me or am I instantly forgettable? I think it's probably the latter. This is a very odd position to find myself in.
I have friends who, no matter what the subject, they can have something amusing and witty to say or write about it. Me? I struggle to pull a sentence together. (and yet I'm the one who insists on blogging. Oh the irony)
Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if someone else lived it for you?
Gosh, this has turned into a hate-fest that I never expected it to...
