wilona

Last week was nuts.
Absoutely fucking nuts.

I went to a club night in London on Thursday which also turned out to be a singles night (don't ask).
It actually turned out to be a fucking brilliant night.
I was utterly wrecked.
Which I believe to be the best way.
I stopped putting things in my face at about 11am Friday morning, at which point I dragged myself home to puke, sleep and get ready to travel up to Manchester.

Which was awesome too, by the way.
Though I did cry for about half an hour because I couldn't find a pizza place that sold chocolate fudge cake at 2am.
I was so very distraught.
But hey, at least I can remember most of my night
I thought I was pretty sober, but I believe pictures and video footage may emerge that will disprove this theory.

Here are some pictures from the last week.










On a totally different subject:
I realised last night how well I'm doing on the depression front.
Due to my memory basically being mush, I have managed to wean myself (almost) off of my anti-depressants.
And I feel good.

I used to worry about everything, I was panicky, paranoid, terrified of making mistakes.
It wasn't til I met someone recently a little melodramatic and nightmarish to deal with that I realised how far I'd come.
These days, I'm chilled.
These days, I don't give a fuck what anyone else thinks of me.
I don't let things bother me as much as they used to.

What was I talking about?

...
Ummm.

Yes.
My current mantra:

Roll a zoot and chill the fuck out.


Wil
x