I haven't slept yet, but i think i may have to soon. I should stop doing this, or soon i'll be completely nocturnal. which is a pity, as there's a lot less to do at night, and you have to do it much more quietly.

So i went into school today, presumably modelling my panda look, and going in on the bus was, well, annoying. I ended up sitting, as usual, next to I, which wasnt much fun, as he cannot stand to have his views on literature challenged or really his views on anything. Or his right to simply talk over, and for, everyone else. He's me, he's the me i was before i was me. A very depressing thought.

Today, as every day, i went straight to the library on arrival. There is definitely something comfortable about being surrounded by so many books. Plus, for the first few minutes each day, the librarians have the library largely to ourselves. Or themselves, i suppose. I can hardly remain a pupil librarian if i'm no longer a pupil. J also often comes in in the mornings. It's harder to talk to him then, as I will insist on butting into every conversation involving people he knows. But, eventually, i managed to pass to him the letter he and S had agreed to deliver to E for me. I know this is ridiculous and that even now, if there's chance, i should tell them to destroy it. But i know i won't do that. Because i am an idiot and refuse to do what's best.

The most important thing that happened to me all day was, though, recieving my copy of the school photo. I had to wait until i got home to pore over it, but pore i did. I'm on the very central line, it seems, the line of heads stretching up between the headmaster and his deputy. And i look ridiculous. I do not look right at all. It's not that i look particulary hideous; i don't look too bad at all. But i have the most preposterous smile ever, it would seem. You know the smiles they draw on cartoons, with immense crescent shaped black lines at each side denoting cheeks? I have those! I'd always thought they were a complete fiction, but now they've turned up on my face, completely unannounced. And i still have sunken eyes. On top of this, it appears i am the only person in the school that cannot tie a tie properly. Everydoby else's hang perfectly, like bizarre striped and spotted fish, and i look like i've tied a blue rope round my neck.

So, once the neccessary vanity of searching for and crticisng myself was over i immediately looked for everyone else of my acquaintance. They, mostly, look normal. J looks younger than i remember. P, presumably demonstrating his 'rebellious' nature is glaring arropgantly at the camera and wearing the wrong tie. S... i wasn't even sure was S. For one thing, the eye is drawn away from him by the sight of I, pouting suspiciously at the camera through all that hair. S also appears to be the only one of my friends who actually managed a proper smile. G looks like he's squinting a little, but is otherwise ok. D looks, as much as seems possible on these photos, normal. C is giving rather a bizarre expression, a cross between a muscle spasm and a mischievous grin. A seems to be entirely absent.

And finally, E. Obviously he wasn't actually the last i looked for. He was, in fact, the first person i looked for after myself. It took me ages to find him, but eventually i saw him, baring his teeth uncomfortably behind our French teacher. His simle can only really be described as a grimace. There's no ther word for it. If i were called upon to give one piece of patronising advice to E, it would quite likely be to take a little more care with his facial expressions, as so many of them seem to lead quite naturally into what looks awfully like a sneer. I'm sure it isn't, really, but it looks a lot like that. When he smiles, though, when he smiles genuinely all trace of that disappears.

Not that i really can make much comment about E's looks. His only part i have ever been able to clearly envisage is his neck. From the back. It's completely worth it, he has a lovely neck, pale and graceful, with a light fluff of his red hair (Which i, unlike, it seems, many others, adore.) at the top of his prominent spine. Perhaps some explanation of why i know his neck so well is neccessary, but beware, this story will paint me in rather a freakish, stalkerly way.

Around two and a half years ago, when i was in year eleven, a trip was organised for the various musical ensembles. I was entitled, as a steadfast member of the school's choir, (Then recently forced down to the tenor section, although my reluctance abated when i realised that one of fellows was now E.) to which i belonged for the first six years of my life at this school, until the old head of music left and her replacement proved to be rather useless, (I'm still a little bitter about that, as choir (I know i'm sad.) was very probably what i enjoyed most about our school.) to attend this weekend of rehearsals. I was horrendously excited, running shrieking and hugging through the playground when i heard the news, because i had so enjoyed our previous visits in year seven and eight, unfortunately called off because of theactions of various sixth formers, among them, i am told, the son of one of the teachers. The first of these trips also sticks out in my mind because it was where i formed my first crush, (You know, it may be an Americanism, but i rather like the word.) on a boy in the year above.

Anyway, this weekend proved to be quite a turn up for the books for the aspiring stalker. Three days, constantly in the same building as E, (and yes, a lot of other people too.) where even i, surely, couldnt fail to spark up a friendship that would no doubt lead to... well, to whatever my current fantasy was. Obviously i had, as so often, over estimated myself and we barely spoke five words. But the weekend still provided me with my longest (and quite possibly dullest) entry to date in my now largely abandoned diary.

The best i managed, all weekend, was to wander round the basements, ostensibly to finish the book ("Plundering Paradise" by Geraldine McCaughrean. It was really good and people might like to give it a try now pirates seem to be in fashion again.) i was reading, but actually to steal every surreptitous glance i could of E, while also trying desparately to draw his attention. But my true moment of glory was during the choir rehearsals that were held in a large room with glass doorknobs and huge mirrors. E normally sat in a direct line with one of the mirrors, (Because, i presume, it was at the edge of the room, not out of vanity.) allowing me to place myself just behind him, so that when we stood i would have a perfect view both of his face and the back of his head. And that was how i fell in love with E's neck.

That weekend, overall, was perhaps not one of the best in my life. I came back with a huge self-inflicted scab forming on the back of my left hand, from continuous and deliberate scratching, though i may have done that before we left. In a biology lesson, i seem to remember.