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First, No, I haven’t phoned Sunderland. I will. Probably. I just don’t want the answer. I don’t want to be told that for the thousanth time I am an abject failure. A waste of human life.

The fact that I know it’s true won’t soften it. It’s the thing I’m most scared of, and always have been, is failure. I should be used to it by now, really, but I’m still terrified of that little brown piece of paper that says “Failed”. “You are a fuckwit. You have wasted two years of your life. You are the weakest link. Goodbye”.

Except it *isn’t* goodbye. It’s “See you soon”. It’s the invitation back to Sunny Sunderland. It’s another year in Sunderland where I don’t feel safe.

And, of course, I have another, bigger, reason not to want to go.

It’s the other end of the country from Lonecat.

So I don’t want to go. I will go though every option, even if it means living here for another few months, to stop me going back to Sunderland

That really wasn’t what I was going to say. Damn. I’m coming down from a *wonderful* weekend into the deepest pits of Real Life.

Decided that today was the day to repartition Delirium. Started that at 12. Finshed that at 22:00. I love these timesaving devices. Behind me it chugs away installing Windows.

Busy doing nothing….

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