Come on.

Come on, Heather. Do something new. Something different. No, don't moan about how dull your life is now.

I made it this way. It was my own choice. Fault. I didn't know how to quit while I was ahead. Now all I ever do is quit. Well, no, I give up. Give in.

Some negative prick I met on Saturday outside my local made some remark about making do with what you're given. I stared at him, eyes totally glazed over, just thinking, 'Is this it? Jesus Christ. What the hell am I doing here?', stubbed out my cigarette and got another drink in. It was a slow night.

What I mean to say is, yes, you are the only person that cares, Mr Anonymous. But that's okay, it's been that long. And, thank you. As much as it's not about doing it for other people, it's the complete opposite actually... but it's nice to have some acknowledgement. Just once.

291.

Posts.

Eurgh. This is so sad. I'm never here any more. I'm not creative any more. Rather than create, I've got a job so I can buy things other people have created. My room is full of prints, clothes and jewellery that I've paid silly amounts of money for.

Today I bumped into my old teacher. Well, I was never actually in his class but we always chatted.

The way I was talking, I sounded so interesting. He practically got my life story. Now I feel like a fool. I am not that interesting at all.

What am I? I am 9 to 5. I am living for the weekends. I am slave to the wage. I am do as your told. One-man woman. Sensible shoes. Getting bye. Can't be bothered.