Have you ever turned around and realised your life has pretty much been a complete and utter waste of time?
Do you ever feel like maybe things would have been better if you'd never existed? Not, like, never existed as anything, I mean like if you'd been born as someone else, someone who wasn't an irritating screwed-up prick.

Even now I feel like shite for making you happy people put up with this crap. You shouldn't be sitting here reading about how fucked up I am, you should be, I don't know, doing something all shiny and happy and worthwhile or something. Go and do something constructive!
No, seriously, it's not like I'm ever going to know if you don't read the whole thing, am I? You're sitting at some computer miles and miles away. I don't know you, I probably don't give a shit about you, why are you wasting time listening to me? Weird.

This probably isn't helping my condition. Do I even have a condition? Who knows, who cares. All ah know is I aint right in da head, sir... Or something. Who reads this shit anyway??

For those who do I'll humour you. La di da.
It's Tuesday.
The video I ordered off the internet (To Wong Foo, thanks for everything! Julie Newmar) hasn't got here yet.
I'm supposed to be revising for my English Lit GCSE thingummiebob but instead I've gone on the internet, read all my fanfics, watched the Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets DVD for an hour searching out every scene with Draco and/or Lucius Malfoy in it, and done 40 minutes of my mum's ageing 80's workout video. All that, but no studying.
And I've lost my mobile. Found 10p down the back of the sofa, though.
Whoop-dee-fucking-doo.

It's kind of like I'm two people, y'know? Like, one of us is more or less normal and mature and little-miss-sunshine, one of us is moody and sarcastic, depressing and doesn't give a shit (guess which of us is typing?), one of us is totally fucked up sadistic cruel bitch who can't stop thinking about horrible disgusting things (better you don't know), and one of us is jumpy and nervous and can't think for toffee. Obviously one of us can't count.
I'm not like some Schitzo or something with muliple personalities per se, I don't have 'real' people in me (not yet anyway *wink*) or anything, but it's kind of hard to explain. They're all me, but at the same time all different people. Whatever.

This shit's too depressing right now. I wish I could just eat something. No...Diet comes first. It's nearly five in the afternoon and I've already eaten a crisp sandwich and a brunch bar. Nothing else until Dinner. Bad Lex! Bad bad Lex! No chocolate for you!

OK...Shove me in a padded cell please...

LEX

I've given names to all my little personality people.
The normal one is South. The depressing moody one is North. The jumpy thick one is East, and the evil twisted one is West. Kinda cute in a symbolistic pathetic sort of way. Sort of.

I've just finished my English Lit GCSE thingummybob. I didn't write a word. Seriously, the paper is BLANK!
I actually composed a poem on the desk, but no bloody answering of the questions. The stupid thing doesn't even rhyme! Not completely anyway. Wanna here it? Oh go on!!

I didn't write a bloody word,
and now my future's fucked,
I'll say it's all the teacher's fault,
my education sucked.

I know, it's shite.
I really did try, y'know. But honestly, I didn't have a clue! Exactly how is comparing two different poems and a novel supposed to be relavent to the real world?
Listen, this might take a while to sink in, but- A poem...Is a poem. I don't want to be looking for hidden messages that aren't there!
The author says something is cold. THERE IS NO HIDDEN MESSAGE! He says it is cold because it is cold, not because he feels the whole world doesn't except him or some other shit like that!
I realise some people do write like that but not everyone! I don't.

And what the hell is with my English teacher? She's obsessed with people being 'outcasts'. This guy is black, he feels like an outcast. Yeah I'll give you that one, but then it begins to get silly. This guy doesn't like potatoes, he feels like an outcast.
Honestly. I'm not making this shit up.

I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore. Who cares?
Y'know once people in my school have done their GCSE's, they get a choice of either getting a job, going to this other college in a nearby city, or staying on and doing some courses. I personally wanted to stay behind and do the courses, but apparantly that takes good GCSEs. Everyone's paniking about it and allsorts.
It's not true though. The school gets paid for every student they take on, so - ssshhh, don't tell anyone - It doesn't matter what marks you get.
I asked. They don't give a shit if I fail everything. So that's what I'm doing. Sure I'm doing the odd bit of studying but really I'm not worried. In fact I feel great. It's an odd feeling...

Just had my lunch with Dawn. Sausage sandwich thingy and a donut. Shouldn't have had the donut, TOO MANY CALORIES!!! But hey, I'll just rob a bank when I'm older and have liposuction or some such thing.
Dawn's cool. She's, well, I suppose you could call her my friend, although it sounds really tacky. Screw this, I'm going to read some smut.

LEX