Falling apart.

can't do any of this any more.

I'm just about finished, just about exhausted, mentally and emotionally. I find myself crying and half the time I don't even know why. I've seen two films this weekend, Penelope, which is a daft modernday dairy tale about a girl with a pig nose who needs some posh guy to marry her to break the curse...needless to say happy endings all round, and I cried all the way through it, tho Christina Ricci (without pig nose) and Reece Witherspoon were damed sexy. And Over Her dead Body, silly romantic comedy abouta Psychic eing haunted by the ghost of her new boyfriend's dead fiancee. Was quite funny, and the psychic looked a bit like Famke Janssen (Jean Grey/Phoenix from X-mrn), and yet I cried all the way through that.

I ended up going to the staff night out on friday, the meal was nice and I had my first strawbery daquiri (if thats how you spell it), got a bit drunk, but not drunk enough to out myself infront of everyone, which can only e a good thing, I don't think me confessing lesbian tendencies would have improved the night. Was home by midnight cos they all decided to come back to Birkenhead, and I refuse to go to any of the scummy, scally infested, chav ridden bars in Birkenhead. Plus, I have a bit of a crush on Amanda who sits next to me, and didn't really want to get too drunk and make a fool of myself, cos she's nice, she has a boyfriend, and I'm staying away from potential relationship situations.

The reason? I'd rather be on my own, lonely, and die surrounded by cats than put myself forward for more pain. I'd rather be on my own than have my heart broken and battered and stamped on and trampled, and torn into tiny pieces and dissolved in acid and have salt and vinegar poured into the gaping bloody wound where my heart used to be. Which is what always happens when I give myself to love. I'm not going to go through that again. I'd rather die alone, because love for me causes nothing ut agony and misery. I've given up on my dreams of a gothic wedding, and a soulmate to share the rest of my life with. The closest thing I found to that was a married man who claimed to love and understand me better than anyone... and look what happened to him, still married, back with his wife, and more fucked up than ever, who says he 'never wants to lose my friendship' and then won't answer my calls or texts.

I'm just bitter and broken. I think I always will be.