SUBTERRANEAN HOMESICK ALIEN

If I couldn't get to sleep for a solid reason it wouldn't drive me quite so mad. As it is I lay here considering the most ridiculous things and pondering why I am inextricably confused by other human beings. I think I missed out on that feeling of isolation somewhat as a kid cause I felt the same as all the other kids. Horny, miserable, mischievous, and with an overpowering urge to consume or take part in anything which might danger myself or provoke any kind of fun. 

Now, however, I feel like everyone is running around with a purpose they forgot to tell me about and I'm still sitting in the P.E. changing rooms trying to get high off PVA. This isn't a drug thing though, that was just a weak analogy. What makes things even more difficult is that apparently it became really cliched to talk about anything after you hit seventeen. Now some people will tell you this isn't true but they don't come from my school of thought, which is that 99.9% of stuff is tragic and cliched and should be avoided at all costs. Hence you have to get off your face before you can say 'shit why is everything so fucked up?' but in doing so become even worse than the cunts at student nights discussing how 'mega wrong' it is that alexandra burke covered jeff buckley's hallelujah cause she's so 'commercial' and it's totally disrespecting his memory (it's a leonard cohen song by the way titwanks and no one with a brain really fucking cares now) because you have, by some passage of evil, become a person talking through a haze of drugs and alcohol ABOUT YOUR EMOTIONS.

I am going to try to sleep now ignoring the crushing sensation of confusion which soils my life on a daily basis and try to get sweet dreams about the following things which shine sunlight and happiness across my face when I'm feeling like this (annoyingly adolescent and socially retarded).

SUNNY HAPPY

marrying charlie brooker 

dropping out of uni and not becoming a fucking loser

people i dislike buying pasta sauce with their ugly children in 10 years time 

dresses

listening to records in the summer on long boozy days which never seem to end (puke)

SHITTY CRAPPY

having to go back to Uni in 5 days

dancing on ice is back....... shudder

in two months i'll be twenty and my childhood (and obvious best years of life) will officially be over

i read in the guardian charlie B is looking to get hitched and fear i will not have enough time to ensnare him before he meets some media type with big boobs and teeth and shitty blonde bridget jones hair