The shadows; long and low...

"Oh, well now it's all falling into place!"

"Yes. But that place is nowhere near this place."

- Matt contemplating life on Mars, in a manner of speaking, alongside his best mate Freddie. It's good to see that they make less sense now than ever...

. . . . .

If the weather reflects your mood, then the semi-darkness I stalked home in tells a story of its own. After all that's gone on of late - all the to-ing and fro-ing - I shouldn't let anything surprise me. But I'm still a little breathless, still a little lost for words, other than those of fury. Hell, after all, hath no fury like a woman scorned.

I cannot believe Simon would ever say what he did. I expect a lot from him; with his intelligence there should be a pinch of human decency. But where is it? Where has it gone? I look at my friends and I'm so grateful for each one. For Ben, without whom I'd be lost at sea. Kat, the most genuine, and the funniest, person I know. Kirstin, who is just so great, and Gem, who I've known for my entire life, and want to know forever. And then there's Si. I just can't fathom him. I don't understand why he would deliberately be so callous; it is absolutely nothing to do with him who Kat chooses to see, and what he said to Kirstin was so unnecessary I couldn't believe it had even left his lips. It's as if he enjoys it; pull him up on it and up comes the shield of arrogance: -

"I do it because it's fun. Full stop."

I don't believe it for a second. I hope he sees sense one day soon. Says sorry. Either that, or I hope he has the balls to try and hurt me too. That way I'll know where I stand.

. . . . .

The maths mock came and went... I have no idea how it went. As usual, I approach examinations with mixed emotions. And so on marches the victory parade, with all the assurance of a blind man doing the egg and spoon race after a night on the lash. I'll reach the finishing line one day.

But at least there's a party to go to, though I expect it to be a party in the loosest sense of the term. All the same, my eyes are lined, my boots are on, and I'm ready to go.

. . . . .

The flowers are melting...

What kind of language is this?