Couldn't be arsed to think about a title.

Ugh. A little bit too much to drink at work last night, and my boss sent me home mid shift. So I wake up this morning and I'm not hungover, not tipsy. I'm literally still drunk. I keep drinking water to quench this thirst that is out to get me, and to think I was doing so well. I even cooked a mad omelet yesterday and tried not to choke my way through it. Carbs. There goes my diet. So it's detox today.
What better way to get back into shape than to starve?
Bloody fucking Jaegermeister.
The truth is, I wasn't even that drunk to start with, but once I stopped drinking, it seemed to hit me all at once. My heels death traps as I tried to balance on them but couldn't. I still can't. Balance. Or be balanced.
I slept in my make up and woke up in it, still beautiful. My hair a tangled mess of washed out sexy curls and ten euros in my bra, where it's been poking at my tit with its rough folded edge all night. I don't know where those came from but. Nah. I don't even know what there is to say anymore other than that sometimes, I don't want to give a shit. I'm tired of worrying about every little thing. I'm sick of always being nice to people, it's such a fucking effort.
And there. I've used up my complaints for today.

So be it folks.

Cringe-worthy.

Oh my GOD. One of my worst nightmares is actually manifesting itself. I AM TURNING INTO MY MOTHER!!!!!!!!! What a fucking horrific thing. Not personality wise. Physically, I took after my mother in the most obscene way, which is for the best as my father is an oily, ugly midget of a wanker. But as I was going through my daily routine of looking for flaws ( of which there are plenty) in the mirror, I noticed fresh blooming ( not so good) similarities. So what? I'm a little bit vane. Everybody is.
I, ugh, don't even know what to say. You know how you aspire to be better than your parents? I'm turning into shit. I can't believe how much I've let myself go these past couple of months. I gained weight, impulsively chopped all my beautiful long hair off to shoulder length and don't even bother wearing lenses any more. Sometimes I just roll out of bed and leave the house with what I've slept with on. And this looks so much worse written down.
I just can't bring myself to bother, most of the time. I'm hiding behind some book wherever I go or busy snarling at anyone who attempts to strike conversation.
I think it's the routine, I tell you.
I don't regret starting studying again, at all. But when you settle into any sort of routine, you kind of stop bothering about a lot of things. At least I do. The spark is gone. And I need to keep reminding myself I am working towards something bigger.
The excitement is gone and I have nothing to express. I only wear black because I couldn't be bothered and I know black looks good on anyone. Oh, God, I'm turning into a wall-flower.
I need to do something. I need to find something new until I get to leave for London again in June.
I need to bring myself to bother.
( I need to get my ass into some gym)
I need to not turn into my mother!!!!!!!

I just came back from Florence. Literally landed.... I know. What a loser I must be to blog about this, having just landed. But this observation I can hold in no longer. I have to say it. Louis Vuitton sales people scare me. They're universally scary. They are.

Bolle, sospiri e brillantini

This biatch is off to Florence and Venice. Soak in the art and see a decent carnival celebration. I'm so looking forward to this, it's unbelievable. I want to think about nothing but the history and the art and the dancing carnival masks :D And now I'm off. Check in is in a couple of hours and I still haven't packed my suitcase. Ah! The joys of improv. I'll just throw stuff in there and then get a double surprise when I open my case, once there. Ciao belli!!!!

Fifty shades of fucked up.

I fucking hate myself sometimes, honestly. And that's not something I do often, seeing that I'm completely full of shit and like to make believe I'm an awesome person. The point in fact is, I'm a sad, hopeless hypochondriac. Really really bad. It's not something constant, it happens only in bouts but when it does, it drives me and the people I'm close to, nuts. I'll randomly call up my mom freaking out about my wheezing, afraid that I'm gonna die, when asthma is something I've basically lived with for my whole life. On my last visit to my optician's, I asked him whether it's possible for my retina to deteriorate. I honestly have never seen a doctor laugh so hard at something a patient said and I'm not entirely sure that was very professional. I have blood tests almost every year.
It's absolutely pathetic. This only happens when I'm not OK. When I feel upset by something, or am in a long term situation that doesn't make me happy, I start freaking out. I start being scared that I'm going to die unhappy. Again. Pathetic. Because when I'm in coherent, I can see how entirely stupid this is.
I have to fucking get over this irrational phobia of mine.
And then start working on the rest... God...