I forget most of what I do.
One of my best mates, freakily, can tell me exactly what I did on a certain day three years ago, or four years ago, or even 10 years ago, if I want to know. I stayed with her in Manchester this weekend and she kept telling me things we'd done and talking about people I used to know (but have no recollection of!) This guy I'd shouted at and told to fuck off and leave me alone on a Bouncy Castle when I was 17. Another guy I went to school with who I couldn't remember at all. She even told me what myself and my mates talked about on a bus journey from Manchester to Lincoln two years ago, when she hadn't even been on the fucking bus! (I had told her about it at the time) It's well freaky.

We went to see Starlight Express, which we were obsessed with when we were 13. It was brilliant, again. We spent the entire weekend sober. We had this meal in the deadest Indian resturant ever before the theatre. (But nowhere's ever as dead as the empty chinese resturant that me, my brother and our mate ate in, in Foz do Iguassu, Brazil. The waiters looked well pissed off when we went in and then stood at stared at us eating with their arms folded looking evil, and played no music so that it was eerily quiet.)
The waiter last night was from Pakistan and didn't speak much English, and he was adorable - he was the sweetest man in the world. It was cold inside and the food was not brilliant, but the waiter was so sweet it made me want to cry. He told us how he liked 'England Country' because everyone was free and then he kept repeating himself about college and a visa because he couldn't speak much english. He broke my heart, but in a nice way.

The other day I cried because the Russian Authorities took this 5 year old boy away from a pack of Dogs that he had been raised by and put him in an orphanage. I cried for the Dogs, because they apparently spent weeks howling into the night because they couldn't understand what had happened to the boy. And it's times like that I feel like I'm 5 again. Those damn Dogs, and that damn Waiter. Breaking my Goddamn heart and making me 5 again.

I miss that bastard who is not a Bastard this weekend. I think I just miss being (physically) close to someone. God, I'm making myself want to throw up. But he hugged/held me I guess, and nobody hugs me (not my family, not my friends) because I won't let them. So I miss him for that, because now I have to go back to being a withered up old bitch with my big fuck off barriers and my reams of Guards with Uzis and Desert Eagles waiting to shoot the fuck out of anyone who tries to get in.

Work tomorrow then two weeks off.