26.08.2002 | 1:17 p.m.
everyday I crucify myself.

I watched About a Boy yesterday. It wasn't as good as the book which wasn't as good as High Fidelity which wasn't as good as the movie but it was cute. Good cute,not nauseously cute. I really enjoyed the soundtrack. I looked for it in the store here but they didn't have it. Ha. What a surprise. It made me miss London so damn much though! The shots in Safeway and HMV and the accents and the jargon. And also the fact that Hugh Grant looks exactly like Matthew in the film. It's almost uncanny how alike they look and act and sound. "Bollocks!" I miss him even though he's been a real prick lately. I can't wait to see him again. In less than three days I will be in London again. I've waited for this day for four months and now that it's so excruciatingly close,it feels unreal...

Through out the movie, I kept thinking of the book and trying to see how exactly they had adapted it. But mostly I kept thinking of the time I was reading the book. It was then that I was most depressed. It was while reading the book that I stood on the ledge in Mrs. Mannion's house and cried when Derek said he didn't know what to do anymore and realised that Monica and I were more alike that I had ever thought. The book scared me further. I was so afraid of turning out like Marcus's mother. Weepy and selfish and unwanted. And for months,that was me. But yesterday while watching the film I couldn't help thinking how wrong I had been. I wouldn't allow myself to turn out like that in a hundred years. I'm too harsh on myself to ever let that happen. I don't give myself enough credit sometimes. So maybe I'm not as beautiful as Thora Birch or as talented as Tori Amos but that doesn't make me totally worthless either. I do have *some* potential to be an actress or a singer or God,even a full-time mother if that's what I eventually want. I will make it happen. I have a lot of perseverance if nothing else.

Even when things looked most dismal, I managed to cloak my unhappiness. On days I felt incapable of social interaction, I made plans to go out and socialise. O'Neills, The Lot, Roebuck, Terrace, Nando's,whatever. The days I wanted to kill myself, I went down to the cemetery at unearthly hours sitting on the benches,listening to cheesy oldies and reminding myself I didn't want to be part of the dust. I stifled my grief. I chided myself for feeling the way I felt. In retrospect, I'm not sure I did the right thing. The internet became the only place I let myself sulk and sob. I hurt people I never thought would care enough to actually get hurt. Oh dear God,Derek,please forgive me...

I'm much happier these days even though I don't have any reason to be. But isn't that what happiness is all about anyway?

deja vu? | jamais vu?