Armrests. A war of Inadequacy.

I'm currently sat on the left hand side window of the 8th row of seats aboard the 1630 M20 From London to Newcastle-Upon-Tyne, arriving supposedly at 2310. The time is now 1708. Everything substandard I've failed to notice about megabus screams at me now, having experienced the luxuries of long distance train travel. I crave an internet connection, and an armrest, and a toilet you can use without everybody aboard knowing wether it was ones or twos, and a little table in the back of the chair. I crave company more though.

I really don't want to go back to Newcastle, because it means that I'm going to have to re-immerse myself in the solitude that is my life there. Everything awful happening in my life right now is amplified a million times by the inevitability of feeling alone. I really don't want to be back there.

I want a full time job, a friend base, my family, and most crucially i want purpose and direction. I want to not be the cunt I've let myself become, capable of the things that I've done. The only purpose I've felt in the last month has been to live my life in a way that Charlottle could be proud of, and earn her love and respect back through my actions and commitment to change. More than anything I want her to believe I can do it as passionately as I do. Love, it turns out is the greatest purpose of all.

I can understand why she doubts my honesty, and my love for her. I am afterall the boy who cried faithfulness. I know however, that I am giving 100 percent to being the man she always deserved. I've shown weakness in contacting her and dwelling on my own hurt rather than hers, but my heart is in the right place and I know that without a shadow of a doubt. I love her so much, it runs through my veins and through every part of me. Fuck I miss her, shes amazing.

Last night and today I've especially been thinking about how beautiful she is, in so many ways.
I could imagine her there with me and my night being transformed from a mediocre student crawl into the best night of my life.

....and she would have looked really really hot. Im a fool.

'Love conquers all' has become engrained in my mind the past month and I'm considering getting that tatooed across my chest in New York rather than the Mauritian crest I've been planning.. It is more than an expression it is burned into everything that I do. I will be perfect, I have to be. I will make her proud. I will prove to her that I love her. I will be perfect. Love conquers all.

With pivotal points in life comes responsibility, and I refuse to fuck this one up. For now, much as it hurts, the responsibility is to leave her alone and let her forget I exist. If we were meant to be and my love runs as passionately as I believe it does, then what will be will be when it is meant to be. I just need to better myself, and be ready to be everything she deserves. I'll fight for her with my actions within my own life, not imposing myself into hers.

I'm so ill today, last night was really messy I got so drunk (and predictably emotional). I feel bad for putting a downer on everybodys night by being depressing. I'm still a little drunk now and it's unsettling being on this god-awful coach. I stayed at Lally's last night, Miles Liam and Charles stayed at Miles's. Cris stayed at Allisons.

We all met up (apart from cris) at a pub called The Prince Albert just under Brighton train station. It was really nice, I'd been there before when I visited Lally last year. Miles got a full English and it was disgusting smelling. I wanted to throw up all over it. I despise the smell of eggs already so being hungover and twinned with the biggest fuckoff plate of greasy fried breakfast was sickening. I fucking hate Miles I really do. I don't know why he just really fucks me off I can't even look at him and everything that comes out of his mouth angers me.

Its scary because as me and Lally were discussing him last night, his life drew so many parralells to my own at the moment. If I don't sort myself soon I'm going to become him.

Cris turned up eventually and managed to get me to East Croydon just in time to make a train for Victoria. I made it onto the coach by the skin of my teeth as usual. Not my fault this time though it was cris for being 2 hours late to pick us up. I was cacking it because had I missed this train I would be fucked for the rest of the week. The urban sketchbooks need to be in by thursday and I've not yet finalised the specs for my flat drawings. The patterns need to be cut for my shirt by thursday too. Its going to be a busy wednesday, I also need to find time to go to do food shopping!

God I'm not looking forward to the next five and a half hours. The old man across in front keeps looking at me, and the girl opposite possibly thinks it was me that farted earlier (it wasn't me). Shes has banksy in her bag I may ask if I can borrow it.

My phone is still not alive. I left my sim card in Swindon like a fucking idiot so I'm going to have to go into t-mobile tomorrow to get a replacement. Im really dreading charging it up turning it on though, I don't know if I'm going to like whats waiting for me.

I wonder where she is and what she is doing, and wether she is happy?

Here's to Megabus. Mediocre to poor.