...is apparently really mean about Britney and why some (presumably white and heterosexual) blogger doesn’t like Justin Timberlake. Because I’m sure that Mr Timberlake like gives a shit or something... Weird Day. Adam came home - did his Tarot - Wheel of fortune as the outcome and seven of cups in his future lead me to be quietly optimistic, although there was nothing about illness getting better - also we were both very broken. Asked them if David would come home - they said probably not. Asked them if I’d lost him - they said “yes”. I tend to agree. Tricky time yesterday. Talked with mum lots on the phone. She apologised for any bad vibes I got on Thursday - apparently she got the accounts she was after but if they’d have failed they’dve probably have had to shut the office. Leaks in the flat are worse. Going to talk to the agency and see if I can get a rent discount until it’s fixed. David is moving out, which makes me sad. He is looking for himself - but I think he is looking in all the wrong places. I refrained from asking the tarot anything mean. Slept really badly. All the things I said running through my head, the nagging feeling that things were different because he chose for them to be. The truth a very pissed and broken Gaz said to me on Sunday. We’ll see. Chatted with João about the rest of my life sucking - he wasn’t surprised at all to find out David had moved in (tho he was a little cynical about it, comparing me to Peter 1 year ago) but he was also really sweet and offered to split the cost of me going to Lisbon to see him for a bit. So yeah. Hurt, Skint and Jealous are my words of the day. How many times have I been *here* before. The only thing keeping me in London is addiction to the money here. All other paths lead elsewhere. The three words that break a person were uttered yesterday. And now I feel empty. But calm. I think I shall spend lunch by the river - it will ground me with its majesty and electrical field. My mind is filled with a kaleidoscope of colours - endless opportunities - I know I need to leave the past behind. And in my head plays the sweet strains of “The Morrow” by Michael Nyman. Seemingly without the need for earphones.