I go into hospital in 6 hours. Ronnie has moved to Manchester. James has possibly found a new man. Adam has split with Simon. My laptop has broken *again*. My flat is a tip. My mind is melting. I am sat here, being driven by the power of music. And I just want to escape. This is not good. Things hurt too much, and I’m about to have a whole bout of real actual physical pain to go with it. Random people on gaydar wished me well this morning. People I didn’t know knew. Why can’t James even give me a simple “good luck”? I think I know the answer. It’s all very well and good saying you want us to remain close and that you want to stay friends, but actions speak louder than words and if you’re always “too busy” to see me yet can manage to see others with no hassles then I think I get the picture...