I often get things wrong. J told me yesterday that it was birmingham pride this weekend, and that he thought he might go in today. i considered, in my sleeplessness last night, going in myself, weighing up the pros and cons (pros: ive never been before, id like to know what its like, possibility of seeing people i know, cons: i feel like an idiot in large (or small) groups of people i dont know, i wasnt entirely sure how to get there), before finally being convinced by the fact that i always feel an idiot when i miss things, and by the song "La Parade" ("i wish i was in the parade") by, once again, Yann Tiersen.

Si, in i went. eventually i found the place (it got easier as i got closer to identify the right direction by the mannish women and womanish men. not that im stereotyping, but most stereotypes have to have some basis) and it really should not have taken me that long to find it. when i arived, at abou eleven or twelve, i think, it was almost empty. so i left, went for a wander round borders and came back. there was still a lack of people i could talk to so after walking round again for a while i left, this time for waterstones. i was very pleased to discover they were playing the soundtrack to amelie (by, thats right, Yann Tiersen) so i stayed in there for a while, then went back for a third and final time tosee if anyone i knew had turned up. they hadnt, and id obviously come far too early, but i was now thoroughly bored, so i went home, reminded again of how i will die alone.

im actually pretty sad this weekend. i have come tantalisingly close to tears a couple of times, but i still cant really get past having just moist eyes. its pathetic really.

i had thought J liked P, and i did once ask him, but he lied. that upsets me a little. ive kept things from him, but only other peoples secrets, not my own, and i dont think ive ever lied to him. i never ever mean as much to people as they do to me, do i. but perhaps i am being a little unfair. its not as if im a great frined that everyone would want. im selfish, manipulative (in a pathetic way- i doubt i actually mange it) and whiny. i talk about myself constantly. i dont mean here, im allowed to here, but in real life (a phrase which here means in conversations over the internet). theres actually a part of me that thinks my constant self deprecation endearing. everything i do is just for attention. thats why i have scars on my hands and arms. mainly the left. i scratch the skin off with my fingernails. its a while since i last did i though. the night i emailed E. or thereabouts.