...whether people think I'm a nice person
...whether I am truly loved
....and if I'm not, is it totally terrible?
...whether those close to me can be trusted sometimes
...whether my father has ever truly listened to what I have to say
...whether if agreeing with whatever drunk people say is ethically correct
...if patience can be learnt
...if dishes can miraculously wash themselves. Mine did, but what about Martha's sink?
...if giving yourself a bald eagle is a good idea, because it's not that sexy. (Mates are in the pub, I'm in the bathroom. Why don't I just give myself an all-over poen wax?)
...how nice it is that it's 7 months today, with 747
...whether I prefer cherise or red
...whether alcohol is the fluid that binds nations and simultaneously tears families apart
...whether crack is the new black
...whether I'll be able to next go on holiday. All I can see in my daydreams is an isolated, deserted place....the peace and quiet. And a bottle of Mampoer.
...whether I'm just surrounded by a world of pretenders.
...whether I am worth it, I am such a small speck on this ginormous globe.
...whether today, TODAY, I will get on that fucking bike. Get my ass to reform itself into an exquisite yet beautifully provocative proboscis-like body appendage.
This is Future Peas. You've only been in contact with Past Peas, so here's a little note from me: get the hell on that bike. Jesus. Just do it. Today. Now. Today. Do it. This is mental preparation gone way too far woman. You've been promising for months. Do it. Today. TODAY.
PS: An SMS I received last night:
ROB I LOVE YOU AND PLZ STOP WORRYING ABOUT GARY HE IS JUST A FRIEND OF MINE OKAY AND PLZ REPLY ME BACK MY AIR TIME ITS OVER
I replied to this person: Hi there. This is most likely 100% probably the wrong number. I'm not Rob, but hope it all works out.
Almost immediately straightaway I get a call from the same number. (The airtime has miraculously rectified itself)
It giggles and puts down the phone.
Teenage love. It's a beautiful thing.