Say it, I'm gonna fight.

I'd be lying if I said I was comfortable with the diagnosis I was given by my optician the other day. I have recurrent corneal erosion. The word 'recurrent' implies that once this has gone the first time, after a month or two, it'll be back in a matter of months or years. The word 'corneal' implies that it's on my eye, right in my vision. 'Erosion' implies that every time I blink, a layer of cells are being sweeped off my eyeball because of this massive scratch on my cornea.

I do feel uncomfortable blinking when I'm conscious of the fact that I'm blinking, that's for sure, but maybe that's just because I'm a hypochondriac, who knows.

He also checked my vision and said I only need the tiniest prescription for my scratched eye so he wasn't intending on giving me glasses anytime soon. I figure if I went back to him when I was unscratched and healed, he'd say my eyesight is perfect and that would be the end of that.

I've never been more infuriated with my doctors though. After I was sent away from my GP with a diagnosis of 'it's conjunctivitis, go get some eye wash', and to then come out with a serious condition after visiting an optician, I'm outraged. I should sue. She didn't in any way imply that I should have perhaps consulted an expert in the field, and if it weren't for the fact that my mum forcibly booked me an opticians appointment, I'd still be sitting here in pain right now.

Anyway, it's in the past now. I can't do anything about my GP being a braindead old woman with an ego the size of her office. Plus her surname is Mycock.

The best day.

It's been a bloody perfect day, despite one little thing.

I had to go to two museums as homework one of my subjects at university, so me and Troy decided to go to the city museum and the Royal Hampshire Regiments museum. The former was really well laid-out, well-lit and generally interesting, well frankly anything where Troy's happy pressing interactive buttons is fine by me! The latter we kind of rushed through because we were running out of time but we both remember going there with school.

We went through the cathedral too, 13 quid for two adults entry is fucking ridiculous but it was well worth it to see the crypt again and take a load more photos than the first time I did about two weeks ago. Plus, Troy's beaming smile was priceless. He loves museums, and that makes me the happiest girl alive, that I can talk to him about this kind of thing without boring him to tears.

The one negative about today was my appointment with the opticians for an eye test. Like I've kept you updated, I've had an issue with my eye for the past few days now, so much so I went to the doctors with it the other day for her to tell me I had viral conjunctivitis and tell me to go down the chemists for some bog-standard eye drops, which never worked, the pain was still there. The optician, however, has given me a much more accurate diagnosis. I have what's called recurrent corneal erosion, which basically means I have a massive scratch on my eyeball and whenever my eyes blink or shut, this scrapes off a layer of cells from my cornea surface. As far as what he described, he reckons it started because my eyes got dehydrated one night recently. He sent me to buy some specific eye drops - Lacrilube, funnily enough - to put in my eye just before I go to bed every night for at least a month. It stipulates before I go to bed because the drops will make my eyes blurry and pretty damn impossible to see for 15 minutes after taking them. It's not a death sentence, but it's basically a bad thing that will keep reoccurring throughout my life. Just another to add to my list of disorders.

But besides that, I've had a wonderful day, and I have my beautiful prince charming to thank for it :) <3

Memes, memes, memes.

My contributions to the Winchester University memes:

You're fucking perfect to me.

One day a few weeks ago, I had an argument with my mum and she stormed out of the house, leaving me alone with my thoughts. And the TV remote.

I needed something to save me from what was going through my head, I didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin, I wanted out, I wanted to stop being a burden to my loved ones, I was always making mistakes, forgetting things, and I was made to feel stupid because of it, rather than someone telling me it’s okay to make mistakes.

So I did what I hadn’t done for at least five years - I turned on the music channels and hoped for something that would help me, as opposed to the usual R&B rubbish ‘singing’ about promiscuity and loveless relationships.

And what did I find?

Pink - Perfect.

I just fell to my knees and cried in front of the television. It was the most surreal feeling, it swept over me like the daylight draped over the sky by Helios on his chariot.

I heard the words and I felt them, like they were coursing through my veins, like they were my life force.

I seriously recommend this song to anyone who finds themselves in the situation I did. Although in all honesty, the state I was in at that point wasn’t as bad as I’ve been before, but I can tell you now, if that song had existed years ago, I would not be the same person I am now. I would have recovered faster than I did. I would certainly have not settled for second best. I would not have accepted people’s lies and deceit because I thought they were the only person for me. I would have held my head up high a hell of a lot sooner.

Yes, I eventually learnt how to hold my head high, but it took finding my prince to help me. If I had this song, I would have saved myself years before my prince.

So if you find yourself at a loss, even if I haven’t convinced you that this song helped me more than I ever thought music could, give it a try anyway. It’s not going to hurt you, just to give yourself a chance, to save yourself, in a time when you think nobody else will.

Pretty pretty please,
Don’t you ever feel,
Like you’re less than fucking perfect.
Pretty pretty please,
If you ever ever feel,
Like you’re nothing,
You’re fucking perfect to me.

Over and out.

It's finally over.

I look at your photos now and I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even pity for the wreck of a life you still lead without me.

I can't really say when this numbness set in, but I bet it's down to the fact I finally deleted your number the other day. Not even on my old phone. Now I have no way of contacting you and it's like a weight off my shoulders. Now my life can finally move along without you. Like it should have done almost two years ago.

I think I worked out what helped though. I played Snuff by Slipknot on loop for days and I'm convinced it washed you away from my mind like some kind of miracle tidal wave.

--------------------------------------------------

So save your breath, I will not care.
I think I made it very clear.
You couldn't hate enough to love.
Is that supposed to be enough?

I only wish you weren't my friend,
Then I could hurt you in the end.
I never claim to be a saint.
Oh my own was banished long ago,
It took the death of hope to let you go.

So break yourself against my stones,
And spit your pity in my soul.
You never needed any help,
You sold me out to save yourself.

And I won't listen to your shame,
You ran away, you're all the same.
Angels lie to keep control.
Ooh, my love was punished long ago,
If you still care don't ever let me know.
If you still care don't ever let me know.

--------------------------------------------------

You don't even deserve a goodbye.

Ozzy Osbourne taught me a good lesson about life: just shout 'you're an arsehole' and move the fuck on.

You're an arsehole.

My eye.

I'm ill. Very. Very ill. I went to the doctors today and she said I have conjunctivitis, but I've looked it up on the internet and it's nothing like that at all. I have a dull constant pain in my eye, which hurts even more when I blink, and it itches sometimes. It's not red, like conjunctivitis. It's not sticky. Just painful, so very painful.

I have to go to museums and the opticians on Friday as well as my lecture at 9-12. I just hope I can last that long, or I'll fall asleep somewhere, and believe me, that wouldn't be cool.

Now I'm confused...

Spider-Man exists!

If you had asked me four weeks ago today if I was happy, I'd have replied negatively. I was having a terrible start to History, I was dreading each lecture as it came along. I dreaded the fact that nobody was talking to me, I was sat at the back of each lecture alone, trying my hardest to start a conversation with the people around me to only be received negatively and with some strange malice

Four weeks in, and I'm finally happy. I still sit at the back of a lecture, but that's because I turn up earlier than anyone I know. I prefer it that way though really because I hate the feeling of walking in a room late and scanning the sea of faces for familiar ones.

Now I'm not alone.

Yesterday, the usual guy comes and sits beside me, and after four weeks of speaking to him I worked out his name by taking a sneak peek over his shoulder as he was logging in on his Macbook. Jonathan, his name is. He's a quiet type, but not the bad quiet. It takes me to make a joke for him to laugh. Plus he likes The Used, so he's seriously in my good books there.

Today, I sat down and an American exchange student came and sat by me. We spoke last week before our seminar because thankfully he found me and another girl in the library and had the confidence to come and ask us if we were from History. Bless him, that was brave of him because god knows what I'd do in that situation. If I recognise someone, I just smile with the corner of my mouth and look to the floor as I walk by. If it's someone I know, I talk to them. But he really had the confidence to speak to us and frankly, I'm so grateful. He's a wonderful man, and he has the greatest accent known to man. I may just be one of those British girls that's fallen in love with the American culture, but I can't help it. He's amazing. He's just what I imagined an American guy to be. He's educated, which is a big plus because from what I imagine of Americans, they're not especially bright, so him, he's an exception to the rule, and an amazing one at that.

I hope Troy doesn't worry when I say I speak to all these guys. It's just something about me that makes it easier for guys to talk to me on a friend level as opposed to a pervy kind of way. I speak to men and I feel more comfortable than I am around women, because women feel they need to fill every silence. Men, on the other hand, are more than happy to sit in silence and just enjoy each other's company, the comfort of sitting next to someone you know and not having to go out of your way to impress them.