Don't repproach me about how empty my life has become

Okay, so the new Pj Harvey record, White Chalk, is unbelivably beautiful and haunting and inspirational. And ghostly. And my immense respect for dear old Polly Jean is, if possible, only increased. An astounding achievement that made me cry a little on the bus home from somewhere, just a few tears, but still.

And also, my book is going along, if slowly. I always switch between hating everything and loving everything. Does that mean i am doing fine? Does that mean I have failed totally and have, like, no talent and is a major screw-up with nothing artistic in me?

Who the fuck knows!

And also, lots and lots of school work, lots of lab where I keep spilling, like, really dangerous chemicals on my hands. Cancer, cancer, cancer. The cancer wagon is pulling up beside me, mrs Cancerous Cancer slipping on a brand new cancer glove, ready to touch me.