Arrived home a few hours ago, parentals are mostly pleased to see me bu t they made sure they made me feel a little worse about what I did. I'm glad to be home though because everything has a reassuring familiarity, unlike the cold segregation from reality that is my room at uni.
I got mum to shave my head down because it was getting a bit less dapper looking. Except apparently she has no concept of 'apply equal pressure all the way around the head'. I now look like a cancer patient. Theres less patches in a quilt, honestly. Here's to clever headgear.
She called me, and we're going over everything again.
I can't change the past no matter how many times we address it, regardless of how much I wish I could. I'm so frustrated at myself, my memory is shit, the times i spent with katie and my whole first term at uni is a blur in my mind. My inability to recall with swiss precision is being constrewed as lying. I wish i could tell her every detail with sparkling clarity, so that I can be as open as I so desperately want to be, but the truth is I just don't remember. I'm so frustrated at myself.
This is what neither of us wanted. Why am I so weak? I couldn't even make it one day.
She'll regret calling me soon because its made everything fresh again. I'm starting to lose my belief in the omnipotence of unconditional love. Maybe love isn't enough to conquer all? Maybe she will hate me for the rest of my life? Maybe I will too.
The newsagents didn't have golden virginia so I settled for cutters choice. Its like smoking an old mans bumcrack. Ugh.
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