Some days I actually pine for a sleepover and a polo 
shirt again. 
This year saw change. 
I started dying my hair lighter. 
I cut in a fringe and I started wearing drainpipes that 
hugged my legs and I suppose the same problems 
remained. 
They just got more complicated and they curled out 
further. 
My problems stretched out in the sun and they sent me a 
postcard to say that they hoped I was okay and "I'sn't 
Buenons Aires fabulous?".
Well, maybe this was bought on by a newfound ability to 
sleep alone, or apathy. 
I don't know.

I think new years begin in September, well at least for 
me they always have. 
I've always been fnd of September. 
Spring is never a good time. 
It's a trussed up and beautiful drag queen but autumn 
is real.
So in the "New Year" period I changed a lot and all the 
while I thought "suuuch a great tragedy I never looked 
this good as a teenager".
All the while I let a ferocity build up in me. 
I took it out on myself, the shorter my skirts got and 
the skinnier my legs bowed and the flatter my chest got 
and all the while we were sweethearts. 
I threw beautiful lines that I never knew I was even 
capeable of.
I counted green pills and cigarette ends. 
I stopped playing guitar and I let my fingers soften 
and my nails grown for a while. 
I started drinking more and keeping unusual hours. 
I started playing Street Fighter II, until my eyes felt 
like they were going to drop out of my head and then 
I'd get enraged by the fact I was never going to be 
going to be stronger than Chun Li.

So maybe I should enlighten you on what happens in your 
absence. 
This selfish existance where this intravert turns 
extrovert and dons their social armour. 
I became the perfect party apprentice, with a PHD in 
sitting on kitchen counters and drawing my cheeks in 
and shooting you looks that I don't even mean. 
Hips that grind to scratchy indie hits and shoes that 
stick to nightclub floors.
Well, you couldn't understand why I can't. 
You've never been up at 4am with "The Fear". 
You've never laid on your bedroom floor half blind and 
you wouldn't love the girl that wakes up perspiring 
beer.

I cry much less these days. 
I can't help but wonder what happened to ninjas and 
adventure.
My dreams are like flashes and they give me hope. 
In these dreams I grew the bones of a fighter while you 
were sleeping and I fought and I seduced from a 
terraced house that rides a hill in this dead little 
city. 
Cinematic mini-epics sobered by train lines and phone 
lines and I forget these things.

My life's a tangle of cables these days. 
Roads and train tracks are like wallpaper now. 
I started taking hundreds upon hundreds of photographs, 
all of which you were absent from. 
A detailed scientific investigation into light 
reflected on glass
And I became invisible. 
Listening to Techno and Shoegaze in my room all alone.
And private parties all for myself. 
Slender fingers honed from MSN. 
An encyclopeadic knowledge of daytime television 
presenters.