Evolving into migranes

I am experiencing of one of the largest, most vicious headaches in human history. It's not even funny the amount of pain and discomfort that I'm feeling. Must be a migrane.

It doesn't help in the least when I receive a call from her; weeping, feeling all morose and lonely. It kills me. I wish I could be there with her, well aware that she's crying for idiotic reasons (knowing her) but I can't be there to comfort her or even call her off for being such a melodramatic queen. I am here. I am stuck in London. And for one bloody minute I wish I could stop thinking (and cursing as well).

You can't stop me. I'm going for it. Me and Mr. Bourbon, reunited once more.

What a truly pathetic existence.

Messages at 3 AM

I have a message from Philippa on my mobile. I have no idea why and apparently it's not the only one. I'm sorry it's messages. Good grief. Has she gone mad? I'm exhausted but I can't sleep in my laughable attempt to contact Caterina. Suits me well for being so bloody desperate. I wonder, is this some strange irony that is playing right before my very intoxicated therefore oblivious eyes?

I should go to bed.

I should.

Fatigued yet bloody mad

Well I'm at home. I'm exhausted from all the traveling. I want to sleep forever but that would get in the way of my Planet Earth obsession so that won't be good. My lovely flowers are ready to bloom or so I think. I've been rather careless with them, which is sad and shameful. I shall tend to them and give them lots and lots and lots and lots of love.

But nothing is more shameful than the fact that Miss Caterina Maria has not had the decency to even send a measly message dictating whether she's well or not! I do not expect her to send me a daily correspondence but at least one of those characteristic (nonetheless dry) hellos. But not even THAT. Just thinking about it sends bouts of energy through my being, as if I was going through a caffeine rush, instead it's an overwhelming feeling of outrage. Ugh. Bloody sexual politics!

It's just not fair. Poo :(

...it doesn't help that I'm a wee bit drunk right now does it (oh so many grammatical errors I must correct!). It also doesn't help that I wrote an e-mail when I'm utterly pissed off/drunk. Oh bloody hell.

Intoxicated

I'm currently quasi-intoxicated. I had one too many jelly shots at this very peculiar get-together I attended alongside Caterina Maria. Everyone was so consumed in stress and tension, I could barely enjoy my surroundings. Between Veronique being there with Caterina's ex, Veronique fighting with her older brother, Thierry; then an array of mishaps and uncomfortable situations.

I'm not a sociable person. I try to, but I hate being around so many people. I suppose it's because I don't know them well enough to relate. Though they're quite an entertaining bunch. Now that I think about it, I'm in need of someone to talk to.

I haven't seen Philippa in over a week, strangely, I don't find myself missing her except when I need someone to listen to. Caterina Maria is wonderful to talk to, if I managed to form concrete sentences. Nevertheless, there's something about her voice that acts like catnip for me. I adore listening to her silky soft voice, speaking in an agitated flurry of words. I'm still trying to pinpoint why I can't speak with her as I would with anyone else. Again, having taken about 15+ jelly shots, doesn't help with the mind OR proper spelling at the moment.

Yet it's not fair to dedicate a pissed entry to someone like her. Tomorrow's sunday, the most boring day of the week. I think after a few hours, I should be more than qualified to do a worthy entry.