There are weird days when you wake up, and you want to throw something. The day goes on. You hate everything around you. You've dreamt of your own funeral. And guess what happened in my dream? Right, so they find me lying in my room, a mess on the floor. Then they place me in this big black coffin. Then all the people I've ever known and loved are there, making speeches, or just crying, or acting like they cared, anyway.

It was just a dream, but you cried in it, and you gave a speech. For the first time in my life I felt like I meant something. Not just a stupid crumb of cheese or a blot of mustard.

There are days when you wake up, and you think the world is beautiful. There are days when people call you up, and they're nice to you, they just want to ask how you're doing. It feels nice to be thought of, doesn't it? It feels nice sometimes, to just look at your boring old 17th century cell phone and see a 'one message received' It feels nice, sometimes, to receive one line mails from someone, even if they're just telling you to go onto their blog.

It sometimes feels nice to know you're being thought of, whoever it's by. It sometimes makes all the difference in the world to know that once you're gone, there may be people who'll miss you. There may be people who'll think of you, and maybe shed a tear or two. There maybe be people who could love you, your parents, for instance. In the long run, you forget to thank them everyday for doing all that they do for you, don't you? It sometimes feels nice to just have someone to talk to. It sometimes feels nice to be by yourself, then sweetly have that privacy lost.

Life is long, isn't it?

I just realised, I am a REALLY awful writer. And to think I was hoping to be editor. HA!

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