I really miss P. I miss him more than I could ever admit to my friends and even more than I want to be able to admit to myself.

I'm PMS-ing and I don't care. Isn't this when all true emotions come to a head anyway? Who cares if they're all exaggerated, at least they're all honest.

I'm scared shitless of my summer course's final tomorrow - it's the 3rd (yes, THIRD) time I'm taking this class and no matter what I do I just can't seem to pass. I've gotten to the point where I simply just don't care about it anymore, I want it gone. Every time I look at this book I feel completely and utterly stupid and I know I'm not. I wish my best mate would find something more inspiring to say than, Good luck. You'll be fine. It's just a test.

I'm so sick of university and the New York City. I'm frustrated and feel confined into a tight space. It's all the same, even though it changes daily. I want out, I want to run away and I want to know it wouldn't break my family's heart. But of course it would.

I just want to get up and leave. I hate the fact that I have so many possessions that I adore and couldn't manage to pack just one bag to sling over my shoulder when I begin anew.

I hate the fact that P isn't here to soothe me... because that's what he did, even if neither of us realized. He gives the best hugs and had the best words and even more importantly, they all came straight from his heart. He might not fancy himself a good person (he's often told me he has a lot of guilt for things done in his life), but I think he's wonderful.

I hate the fact that I'm crying because I don't cry. I hate the fact that tear glands are an emotional betrayer that I cannot control.

I like the Beatles, but I don't think everything they came out with is pure genius. This song, however, is (for me, at least), one of the most important songs of my life. The night P left, his uncle brought his guitar down to the pub and played "Let It Be" and we all sang along. It was beautiful and moving and not something I ever want to forget.

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