I have nothing to say. Absolutely nothing. That's the problem i live in a little bubble of nothing. Nothing ever happens here in Westhampton beach. I do nothing. I go nowhere. All sorts of interesting things happen near by but just far enough to be not worth the trip. I talk to people from other parts of long island, they assure me that there is plenty going on, but when pressed to give details it all turns out to be far away. I am trapped in this purgatory, forever haunted by memories of a more exciting life. St. Andrews was good to me, even at the worst of times it was never dull. And ok so the the mojahvi dessert was slowly killing me (literally, i spent so much time in the intensive care unit that I ended up daiting one of the on call nurses) ; but i always had something to look forward to. Here there is just nothing. I used to worry that when I get back to scotland, it might not be the same. That Andrea might not want me back ; that i may end up spend the rest of my life sitting in a pub trying to relive my glory days. I don't wory anymore. Even that would be preferable to this endless nothing.
- Current Mood: depressed
- Current Music:perfect drug- on vinyl