Then you couldn't make things new, just by saying "I love you"...

*guilt guilt guilt frustration argh pain confusion lost self-pity bitter pain jealousy exhaustion punch boom more argh*

*feels sorry for self for 18th time tonight*

ARGHHH just had enough. I felt so bad earlier, I copped out of the first Big Band rehearsal of the year.

I NEVER MISS REHEARSALS. Ever. This is big stuff Taylor-wise.

And this is why I hate being a woman. This is why I hate being an adolescent woman even more.
No, this does not give you permission to make some comment on my apparent masculinity. It bores me now.

I tried taking my mixed bag of emotions and throwing them onto Sibelius to distract myself, usually since music is ALWAYS the perfect cure to all ailments.
Instead, I came up with the zaniest load of bubble and squeak you ever did see, involving a trumpet and a piano. Ha, I think trumpeters might just hate me if I ever tricked one into playing it.

We've been back, like, 3 days, and I just want my bed. All the time. I can't really deal with this all tbh. You all make my head blurry. Go away.

Not you, come back. Seriously.

Please.

I'm praying for a *click* then I'll suddenly be all happy and wooooo again and I won't write overdramatic blogs and wallow in self-pity continiously. I just can't be bothered with that whole witty 'act' at this precise moment in time.

Huge apologies if I've been unpleasant to you or even more of a pain in the backside, you know I don't mean it REALLY.

Glee is on. I can't be bothered to watch it. This lack of motivation is disgusting.

Off to go and indulge in the Bach Marcello or something as equally pretentious.