[insert some title here...]

I'm probably going to look back on this post in a few hours, once I've slept off most of how I feel, and feel really embarrassed. I'll wonder why I wrote this, like I always do with posts I write in this state.

I don't care right now about that moment. I'm not living that moment right now. I'm in this one, and I guess I have to make the most of it.

~~~

I've been an Analysis peer tutor. I show up at a class, I help kids converge their sequences. Not exactly the best paid job ever, but it gives me something to do, and I love that look that mathematicians get when a concept just rolls into place and sets everything off.

To get paid, I need my passport in person.

Rather than mailing it to me, my family surprise me with a trip to come and see my house. At first, it was "Dad will pop it through your mailbox when he's roughly in the area"... then it was "We're all coming at 1:30. Make sure your room is tidy."

So, D and I clean the house - we hoover, we scrub, we do dishes, I tidy my room, and we remove all of his clothes, and make his [unused] bed, and take all my Pride paraphernalia and stuff it in a drawer somewhere.

They arrive. It's so hollow.

I show them the house. I show them D, who I know is quite worried/terrified. He doesn't show it at all. My parents ask if D would like to come with us to lunch, and we all set off.

We eat lunch. Mother moans a bit, and drinks a whole pint of Carlsberg. We share anecdotes, D does too, and I begin to relax.

We go to Wilkinson's. I buy things, including some stuff for my parents. Whatever. It's £3. I have to ignore this, because of Everything They've Ever Bought Me. To be honest, I'm ignoring this because I regularly waste more than that on vending machines in a week.

We come home, I give my brother some cheesecake, and my parents get coffee. My mug breaks while I pour hot water into it. It simply cracked, and coffee just pooled around it, then dripped into drawers and onto the floor.

Finally they leave.

Later on, I make a tasteh dinner for D and I, and go to see The Dark Knight, which is an AWESOMEcool film.

On the way home, we start to talk about my parents. I then start to tell D about how they were about Matt. I get emotional.

I stay emotional.

We finally get home, after sharing more of ourselves with each other. I leave him in the living room, doing whatever he's doing.

I cry.

I then start to get angry. What the fuck am I doing? I don't feel pain. Not really. I think it's pain. I think it hurts so much when I do what I can, and I live to make myself happy, and it doesn't work out for me, and on top of it, they would never approve. But... other people suffer worse things every single day, and they just COPE. They just learn to deal. They don't crumple and fall.

I start to channel my pseudo-pain, and I realised it needed somewhere to go. And, what better place than the plughole that we like to call the blagosphere?

~~~

I always get a headache after a good cry. I reckon it's super-dehydration. I basically live dehydrated, I realised this a few days ago.

I believe that BST has finished. Audrey's clock is an hour behind mine, and she changes her time automatically so I don't have to.

Summer's gone. Cold bitter winter advances.

I live in hope that it'll all turn out fine, and everything will be not OK, but bearable. And.... I think that I can do this. It'll just take a bit of work. And... keeping D around seems like the best idea ever... cos he's the best thing that's happened to me for a really long time.

[Except, maybe that time I... oh, no, he was involved in that too. :D]