seventeen year old wrinkles

i know, tut tut, when the fuck was my last entry...

i spent the whole weekend with adam again. it used to be exciting getting on trains and catching metros and meeting him at the station and everything. now i think maybe i'm getting a little tired of the 2 hour trek every friday. especially when i know that his car's sitting on his driveway all nice and clean and polished. am i writing this because i know that he'll read it?

we argued quite a bit this weekend. i remember when we used to talk about how we never argued. hmmm. before i go any further i'd like to point out that i'm not really being fair, seen as though i had nothing to write on here when everything was hunkydory. and now because it's not i'm having a bitch.

oh well. anyway...

anyone who's read this for long enough probably already knows that i'm fucked up. or do i just pretend i'm fucked up because i'm boring as fuck? sometimes i don't even know why i go quiet and cold when i'm with him. it's usually when i've seen something or heard something or thought about something that requires a bit more thinking than usual. that doesn't even make sense. basically, when my train of thought crashes head-on into something significant.

like my future. what the fuck is going on with me at the moment? sixth form drop-out? seriously hannah, what the fuck? another time.

my mother. anyone who's got a mum who's always had big boobs will understand that when one gets taken away it's as though that feeling of safety they gave you when you were a kid is ripped away from you. later, to be replaced with a silicon implant. it's hard to act big and brave when you're spoon feeding your morpheine-fuelled mum jelly in a hospital. or when you're scrubbing her blood out of a carpet. nuff said.

my social life. because i'm seventeen and shallow. i'd be lying if i said that in the past few years i''ve felt like a normal teenage girl. or am i just pretending i'm not? i find it really difficult to hold a conversation with someone my own age. i find myself literally taking a step back. literally sitting in the nearest corner. finding that try as i might, i just can't seem to get a word in half the time. as though i'm physically incompetent in conversing with a seventeen year old.

to be honest i'm lonely. i don't feel like i'm living anymore. today, i feel as though the only person who can make me feel valid simply 'doesn't give a fuck'. and doesn't care that he 'doesn't give a fuck' either. i don't want to be a corner shop: there for your convenience. and yet i jump before he even gets his hand out of his pocket to click his fingers.

when we're driving in his car i look at my reflection and wonder why the fuck i've got a smile on my face. it's there all the time like a fucking tattoo. giving me wrinkles at seventeen. when he falls asleep next to me i feel so unbelievably lost. as though he knows i'm floating around in space and is too tired to care.

things can be so perfect for an hour or two. i'm all that he thinks about and nothing distracts him. i'm beautiful and amazing. i can feel him loving me. i put my arms around him and i feel like i'm actually connected to him somehow.

and then he gets up and puts his clothes back on and walks away from me.

i know what the consequences of you're reading this will be.