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( , Sun 1 Apr 2001, 1:00)
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I remember waking up in the middle of winter, sick, cold and lonely to go and stand on the street and work for an idiot in an exhasuting job that was rarely fun for weeks and weeks.
Getting home so late and tired that I wanted to sleep for a week.
Even then, or the time I spent on the dole in Halifax, on my own, going mad from boredom I've never harboured a desire to hurt myself.
Friends and art. as long as I've got those I'll be alright.
( , Mon 11 May 2009, 14:02, 1 reply, 16 years ago)

Lovely! Same here, except
( , Mon 11 May 2009, 14:08, Reply)
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