Testing, 2, 3, 4...

Hmmm. So, here I am. Finally got around to setting up one of these 'blog' thingies.
I have been meaning to for a while now...
So I guess I'll tell you about myself.
I'm Crimson, I live about 40 miles out of London, in the U.K.
...and I have 'issues'.
But that doesn't mean that I'm a bad person. In the words of Kate Winslet in 'Eternal Sunshine...' I'm just a fucked up girl, trying to find her own piece of mind. So, my current issues are as follows:

• Mother: 58 years old, lying in a hospital bed, dying from cancer. I hate seeing her like that, like all the life is being slowly and painfully sucked out of her.
• Love comes in the form of a two year, on/off rollercoaster with Dan. Lovely, irritating arsehole, Dan. We have a love/hate relationship.
• An ongoing problem with minor insanity. Or, as the doctors tell me, post-traumatic stress disorder, complex personality disorder and manic depression.

Oh, it's all fun and games in Crimson's world. Today, I am feeling O.K. I took the stitches out of my arm last night, which means I don't have to go back to the doctors (they want to put me on meds again. No offence to them, but if I'm going to be happy, I'd kinda like it to be because I'm actually happy, not because I'm drugged up to my eyeballs)

Ooh, drugs...for all my ranting and raving about meds, I did have a lovely Saturday night with my friend K. I think I only enjoy it because it's not legal. O.K. so that makes a me a hypocrite. But recreational drugs are like a holiday for me, away from reality, and like all holidays, I always realise I have to return home at the end of it.

Sunday was spent lounging around in bed, watching T.V. with Dan and Piper (the dog.) Fast forward to now...went to work (in the pub that me and Dan live above) and now I'm sat here...

This is pointless...

I'm going to go and get stoned.

Bye.