24.11.14

Because in the end, what does of any of it even matter?

It's a cold Monday morning. I've been a little bit scattered and all over the place. I'm on my way back to London. I feel a bit sad about this in a way, when I go home I feel as though I'm all safe and cocooned in cotton wool, as if nothing bad could ever reach me. Me and dad talk lots about deep thoughts, about subjects people usually shy away from, we drink rum and cokes and watch indie movies he discovered in charity shops. I really feels as though everything will be ok in the end, I feel safe and secure.

No point lying to myself, I'm to Canterbury today. 
Yeah. Why exactly? I've a day off and id like to see him... 

I don't know what I can save you from...
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