My mother is supposed to be coming home soon. Apparently in about half an hour's time. She's been in my uncle's apartment in Switzerland. And my sister's been on her school trip to Germany. This has left nme all alone here for the past few days with only my father. Fortunately he works rather long hours, but that hasn't spared me completely. For some reason he feels he has to pay more attention to me when he's the only parent around.

My dad's ok, from a distance. But he has a bit of temper, really, and he can be very grumpy. He's been ok this weekend though. He's obviously been trying hard. A couple of days ago he decided it was time for the Talk. Or at least he intimated that such a Talk may be, at some hitherto undefined point in the future, forthcoming. Only not a Talk, a Chat. "One of these days we're going to have a Chat, aren't we." I'm sure there's no need for me to spell out the subject of this 'Chat'. But it was accompanied with the usual "Whatever happens i still love you" nonsense. I hate the "Whatever happens i still love you" bit. I really just find it very, very insulting. How bad as parents do they think i think they are? Surely any person with a reasonable grasp on the world around them can assume that they're parents love them until shown sufficient evidence to the contrary. Is my father telling me that despite who i am he loves me supposed to help me come out to him? They may never say 'despite' but i swear, it's implied, it really is. There's always an unheard 'despite'. I hate, loathe and despise the suggestion that my sexuality might give them cause to not like me. It's always said as if i should somehow be grateful for the fact that my parents arent backwards, homophobic (Incidentally, i still hate that word.) idiots. I'm happy that they aren't, but if they were that would be much more their problem than it is mine. I'm sorry i've been so ineloquent here, but it's one of the few things that really annoys me.

And this little story of mine? Going rather badly. I've written two pages (Which isn't much at all in my writing.) and i can tell i'm on the brink of having E fall completely in love with and giving myself a happy ending. I'm worried it may not serve quite the purpose i intended. However, i'm a stubborn fool, and i'm rather enjoying indulging myself. So i'm going to keep on, no matter how much i end up regretting certain things.

I used to be quite a good writer, i think. My creative writing english coursework, (Written, i might add, around one o'clock in the morning of the day it was due in, thanks to my inability to get a proper start on anything more than a day before the deadline.) which i've spent about three years now boasting about, got full marks. It's besides the point that i read it recently and hated it. Absolutely riddled with cliché and self-indulgent teenage nonsense. And i won a short story competiton (Though at about 100 words it was more of a long paragraph than a short story.) once. It was in Ottakar's, for the prize of a ten pound gift voucher, but it was enough to keep me happy. And i've quite forgotten my point.