I have now cheered up quite a lot. I had an email from S and J telling me the letter i wrote (perhaps misguidedly) to E had been delivered, and then L cheered me up immensely with sparkling conversation: "How can I describe cleavage?" Plus, as always i have happy music to cheer me up. So i do not care about the pain in my foot (largely gone) or the cold i seem to be coming down with. I am obviously very much a happy-go-lucky type with no mundane concerns and my head in the clouds. Obviously.

It turns out that both J and S are just as cowardly as me. Neither of them was able to present my letter to E, and they had to ask someone else to do it. It's quite funny really. (In an "I'm a loser and i can't even manage as a stalker" way.) I put a lot of effort into that letter. Probably far too much. I wrote very carefully, double spaced and everything, trying to make up for my handwriting, which is generally held to be illegible, or pretty darn close. I also used my favourite pen, only used for the most important things, as it contains ink of a very beautiful colour. Everyone calls it turquoise, but it isn't turquoise. Oh no. The first page was mostly apologies (I'm an apologetic person.) and the rest was so dull that i've forgotten. All i really remember is asking him to read my blog. I thought that surely four months of me trying to explain myself must make a better impression than four pages. I shall have to see.

I don't have much hope. Not really. He doesn't see to take kindly to my pestering. But i have to try, you see, no matter how much of a freak i end up looking.

In other news, J says he is pleased that things between he and P are over. I asked, in a bid to ease my conscience, "Were things going that way before my blog or is it all my fault?"

"No, it's nobody's fault," he replied. "Maybe matthew's for being a grade A wanker" So that, i suppose is that. I still feel a little guilty though. But not as much.