Lollercoaster at drunken texting, misunderstandings, overreactions and nervous apologies. Pretend the weekend never happened.

My hair is irretrivably soaked from shuffling round Brighton in the pissing rain with Dani and Danni looking for a present for my mum. It was her birthday today and I forgot until yesterday when we went out to dinner with her parents and they asked her if Dave was coming down for her birthday. I'm a bad daughter. :< We decided to give up and go home and just have me draw her something and make a card, but on the way the rain eased up so we scooted off into Worthing and grabbed some chocolate from Thorntons for her. Then it rained again, so we did the logical thing. We sought shelter in that beacon of hope and joy for the bored, wet, cold and broke waifs and strays of Worthing: Steve's house.

Steve's mum is hardcore. She slapped a wrestler for being mean to Steve. It was a fantastic moment. Then everyone sat on Steve and Emmy's bed and threw chewits at Dani and I laughed so in retaliation he pushed me off the bed. I don't think he actually meant to push me off but I was perched on the edge and sort of wobbled off with a small prod. Then everyone got bored of abusing Dani and started tormenting Ads about watching Dani's gay home video porn.

And that's what I'd define as an average normal day off school, yes.

You need to be wasted before you have the spine to tell me the truth?

You're pathetic.

I could have lived with it if you'd told me straight away, you know. I could have understood. I could have handled it. But you had to lie. You had to abuse my trust and my friendship, after I poured my heart out to you, I told you my secrets, I trusted you, I thought you were wonderful. I really did. I thought you were the best person I ever met. I didn't judge you for being nineteen years old with a baby when everyone else said I was crazy to think that was no problem. I just wanted to make you happy, I loved being in your company and I wanted to return the favour. I spent well over fifty quid in a month on credit just so I could text you because I couldn't see you face to face and I wanted to talk to you 24/7. I had the best conversations of my life with you. I had that supposedly magical moment, the first awkward, stupid, inept teenage kiss with you. I sorted this whole mess out on a fucking patch of grass opposite a gay pub after school one Monday. I told you I'd wait for you after you'd waited for her, I asked you if that was what you wanted. And you said yes.

And that was a lie.

And I HATE YOU. I hate you, Dani. I hate you because you lied to me and because you just charm everyone somehow and I can't be angry with you because I fell for it, even though you're immature, and you have no concept of money management, and you must have some kind of ADHD, and you have greasy hair and bad teeth and actually, you are just fucking wierd looking, and rude, and you don't think about how what you do makes other people feel, and you've slept around, and you lie. I really hate you. I wish I'd never met you. I hate you so much I can't think of a way to type it. I want to punch you. I want to scream at you and hit you and tell you you're a liar and a bastard and I wish you were dead.

But tomorrow you'll sober up and you'll call me and tell me you're sorry, and you're guilty, and you know you're a horrible person and you feel like a bastard and you hate yourself for what you've done. And you'll tell me you want a hug. And after ten minutes I'll adore you again. And I'll see you on Monday and I'll give you a hug. And we'll sit on Brighton beach and talk about school and work and little Faith, God bless that little girl. And we'll be friends again, although it will hurt for a long time knowing that's all we'll ever be. But I'll get over that. Life goes on. And quickly we'll forget I wanted you and you lied to me and I hated you, like kids always do when they shout at each other in the playground over boyfriends and girlfriends and best friends.

I'll cry a little and you can teach me to throw pebbles at the sea again and you'll make me laugh like you always do when I'm upset. Maybe we'll buy some sweets from that shop in the Lanes.

Just wanted to get rid of the last journal.

lol, bomb scares.

DO NOT FUCK WITH ME OR MY FRIENDS.

Whatever you think you're playing at you better come clean tomorrow. If you think I'm going to take you back you better work a fucking miracle. I'm not even sure I WANT you back not matter WHAT you do. I'm not sure you're worth the pain you've bought upon me and her tonight. In fact right now I'm more leaning towards 'I never want to see you again and neither does she with good fucking reason.'

The truth will out, boy. The truth WILL out. 3:45 PM. You better show. You better have a fucking good excuse and a lot of apologies.

Decided to round off the OMGWTFWEEKEND with a scouring of my gallery. Progressively getting rid of most of my old stuff because it's not very good.

And also, HEE HEE.