I don't live in England. As much as everything there appeals to me, especially London, from the public transport, to the accents, to the shops, to the night life, even the tube, the weather would drive me bananas. (And so would the other South Africans).
It has been raining pretty much non-stop in Johannesburg for the last two months. You scoff. I am officially seasonally depressed. Not these wonderful thundershowers, with scary lightning and thunder, but pure solid drizzle.
So now I'm frustrated and sad, my hair is frizzy, I couldn't sleep last night thanks to the splooshing of water on the drainpipe, and now all that is slightly uncomfortable has manifested in my brain into something far more simple: I hate the human race.
I hate my narcissistic ex-lovers, I am annoyed with Small Bum because he's so fucking perfect in every way possible, and I hate my hair, my bum, my everything.
Fuck. I need some sleep and I need to get laid. It's been two days now for fuck's sake. Women have needs too you know.
And now I just seem needy. Fuck. Fuck.