So here I am. Hayley Louise Mary Charlesworth. Indie, Glam and Electro obsessive, college student, terrible poet, completely fucked in the head, ugly narcissist [well I don't look my best! But I've been getting better, so I look less like a ghost], and writer of this here Livejournal.
Well, why am I fucked in the head? Well who isn't? You most likely know why for some reasons, especially those close to me [Lily in particular, sorry!]. Now my problems are lessened, I have other people's secrets to deal with. Like X being in love with Y. Like Y being in love with Z. Like A maybe being pregnant by her friend B's dad. Like someone maybe being in love with me, and that's just WRONG!
I'm a pathetic creature really. I spend my days sat in my room, obsessing over the lyrics of Jarvis Cocker, reading books [currently Regeneration] and spazzing over crazy places like Teacupland. With being ill this past week and a half, it's kinda understandable that I wouldn't have much else to do except cough up shit, but now I'm getting better, I want to do something, and there's NOTHING to do around here. Leigh lives 2 minutes away, there's nothing for her to do either. It's boring. I'd do stuff with her, but alas, I was banned from leaving the house. But I need to get the fuck out of this place, even if it's just going to Glyn Webb and Tesco with my Grandma tomorrow.
Do I sound happy? No. I don't want to be unhappy, but having spent the day tidying my room, computerless and unable to go downstairs for food because the decorator was in, it's not likely I'd be happy. Just so you know, the house [save the bathroom] is finished, and you'd never have guessed the ceiling caved in.
Fuck this shit. If I'm stuck in the house all the time, I'll actually DO something. I can practise guitar more I guess...what else could I do?