Royally fucked that up. Good old self destructive Clulow.
Let’s go down the gym and art route as a coping mechanism for this monumental cock up rather that the other not so desirable ones. Gym 4 times a week and 1 gallery a week should do nicely. I will be a hot and sexy artist (as well as a crazy cat lady of course).
Boom, rock and roll baby, rock and motherfucking roll.
Deleted my facebook. Because I am tired of all of the people IRL thinking that they have a right to my life, a right to effect it, a right to know about it and a right to have an opinion on it. They can go now. I’ve set up a tiny one for people I actually want to talk to and I think there are about 10 people on there.
Everything is a bit confusing at the moment and I don’t quite know where my life is going but I know I’ll come out on top. I always land on my feet. I’m a fucking warrior.
That weird level of tired where the demons crawl along the floor when you look away and hide behind the sofa when you try to spot them. They’re just waiting for the next level of tired when they climb onto the pillow and hiss into your ear, all the things you don’t want to know about yourself.