This shoulder injury has fucked me up.
It fucking hurts and I can go to the gym but it aches and I've been told to take 6 weeks' rest. I could do legs but screw that. I really am so resentful to the fucker who did it. I will not turn bitter. No.
Thinking about it makes me want to resort to violence. Serious GBH.
Fat-fucking-cunt-motherfucker-wanker-who-did-this-to-me-because-they-should-have-been-on-the-fucking-treadmill-I hate you-fucking-hate-you-HATE-YOU!
So what else is there to do but drink? Last night on First Great Western I drank about six Harvey Wallbangers. I don't remember much of what happened after getting home.
Thank goodness for the text message history...
Right now I'm a little buzzed - three beers and two glasses of wine. I hate myself for it.
This morning at just before 9am, I found myself in the queue to visit the opening of a shopping centre.
Westfield London is apparently the biggest urban shopping centre in Europe. Don't panic. I've been so you don't have to...
Great place; a shopping centre with its own dark room.
And then I thought this was the prettiest - the fresh fruit counter at M&S...
Bla bla bla. I'm pissed. Fuck. I hate the guy who bashed into me and destroyed my shoulder. I hate him so much.
He gets away with his own fat self exercising in the mirror - a large tub of lard bashing into everyone when he should have fucking been running for his goddam life.
And then he launched himself into my life - a Teletubby in the gym, a big bounding wanker, devoid of any consideration for others. And while I was minding my own business he waddled over and injured me. I hate him. I really really hate him.
I,m pissed. dksdfkjs dfkjshdf ksjhdf ksdjhf sdf bla bla.