#thinkingoutloud: take 3.

Staring down the barrel of a gun, er okay not quite, a bag of kettle chips, but shh. It's 19:07 and I'm slumped lazily on the settee with coffee and a share bag of Kettle Chips that are disappearing rapidly. Emmerdale is on live pause. The puppy is staring up at me with sad, lonely eyes, eyeing up the latest form of sustinence I won't share with her and occasionally letting out an impatient cry. I must verify two things: 1. It's officially the weekend. 2. I'm only twenty years old. Both of which mean I should be doing something more exciting with my life, and my Friday night than sitting in front of the soaps pigging out. Note: I will, soon enough, but at the minute I can't motivate myself to move. The idea of staying in on a Saturday night is usually enough to move me to tears or insanity, yet with the horrible weather and my mountain of uni work, I am seriously mulling over the unthinkable; spending a Saturday night without my two BFFs; vodka and sambuca. I'm torn. I'm exhausted and worn down by all these uni commitments I have, and yet there's something else. Someone else. Someone who, given their due, keeps trying with me even though, I'll be honest, I'm an absolute nightmare. Anyone who can even contemplate the idea of choosing to be in my negative, compulsive, paranoid, moody life, deserves a medal, and a strong drink in my opinion. So, hopefully you are willing to do it, because it's not such a secret that I'd be a very happy girly if you did.