Evidential Priorities

Today I choose radio 4.

And coffee with skimmed milk.

Today I choose Husserl and an essay to triumph all essays. 

A brisk run. Maybe. Or maybe just some sittups. Just something. 

A phone call to Mum, cause she'll remind me why I'm here.

Husserl wasn't quite sure. I think my Mum has a better idea.

I choose a non-alcohol induced early night and taking off my make up before bed. With Dominos. 

Because being this distraught over Mr Darcy is about as healthy as the amount of Ben n Jerry's I ate last night.

Today I choose In our Time, Continental vs. Analytic Philosophy.

And maybe some dissertation work.

A dissertation on why men and women make decisions the way they do, when made to make decisions together. And if they can stick to their initial beliefs.

If I can stick to my initial beliefs. If I can stick to some form of self respect.  

Because getting a 2.2 isn't worth it.

He's not worth it.

He's not worth it.

He's not worth it.

SOLUTIONS

SOLUTIONS

5pm lashes. Because he didn't care. So nor do I.
Getting completely ratted, because there's only so many times you can look over past photos before going crazy.
I'd like my dreams to go back to non - mental moments. Not a set of scenes of Shakespearean clad actors and actresses mauling each other to pieces, and leave one another in wrecks of ribbons.

I missed you.

I still miss you.

We went out at 6th form, and first year, until you told me you wanted to sleep with other people. Because that's what freshers do.

So I went away and found someone else. He was lovely, beautiful, clever and romantic. Took me to dinner and balls and on holiday. Held my hand and showed me off like the wife he's destined to have. But he wasn't you.

And you invited me to Newcastle and we clicked again and again. And you slipped your fingers in between mine like they'd spent 2 years doing. And I didn't want to let go.

And I hate that the Cathedral that greats me on my way back from your stupid city is just a cold welcome of work. But it's kinder than your words were.

So tonight, I choose wine. And weed. And a fuck load of ice cream.

And then tomorrow, or maybe next week, I'll get back on the horse. But right now, I feel about as big as the length of time you reminded me you'd spent deliberating over what I'd told you. That I still wanted you, after 2 years. 5 fucking minutes.

So tonight, I'm dwelling. And taking a glass of milk to bed.