What Is Wrong With Me?

I feel less Christmassy than ever. Even less than last year. And last year I didn't feel Christmassy at all. Stephen doesn't reply to my messages. I am stuck alone (family is on a tour of Medway collecting and giving presents to far distant relatives) in a village, on a posh estate filled with ignorant arses. Scooby is still missing, will have to start a poster campaign.

My wages have not come through due to "unexpected technical difficulties" at my bank.

But worst of all I have betrayed my principles, which I formed in January..... not to become like everyone else. I have become stuck in debt, trapped in some wasteland of faux emotion and prejudice. I have some how managed to steal my dreams away from myself by being stupid. I live among the scum I hoped to get away from (that is 99% of the British population, 99.9% of world popualtion).

This is what happens when the only person in charge of my destiny is me. God and religion is all a lie.

Maybe An Angel - Heather Nova (no Karen I haven't opened the pressie yet!)

I put my hands where your wings should be,
I put my feet where the earth should be
And I can't see very far
And when you said that you were dead I hung on

Something I feel,
You are an angel, or maybe you could've been
Something out here
You are an angel or maybe you could've been

I've got this light hangs over me
I've got this fear cuts into me
And I can't see very far
And when you said that you were dead I hung on

Something I feel
You are an angel, or maybe you could've been
Something out here
You are an angel or maybe you could've been

See how they run
And nobody said you would go
See how they fall
And I can't see very far
And when you said you were dead I hung on

Something I feel
You are an angel, or maybe you could've been
Something out here
You are an angel or maybe you could've been
See how they run
See how they run
All the same, all the same
Something out here
You are an angel