"About your hair, you needn't care. You look beautiful all of the time"

Whenever I'm inebriated with those sweet illicit substances, I find that I have this innate ability to gravitate towards my portable heater and stand above it for ages at a time.
I have a sense of seperation anxiety at the thought that I might have to move away from it, even for a split second.
It reminds me of feeling warm and nurtured... Perhaps I felt this this way as a fetus all lovely and small inside the womb and this placid, cuddly state is the closest thing I've come to that short of reverting to a new born and crawling back up inside.
I think since coming out at birth I've always been quite aware that the world would be a bit of a cunt. I'd probably have been one of those children who attempted self strangulation via umbilical cord upon exit.
"No, no!!!! Leave me in there. I felt safe in there. Don't make me come out amongst all your ugly mugs. You all look like right bastards!!!"

Apart from my lovely little $30 heater, and the womb... I've not felt so comfortable anywhere until London. After much deliberation and date swapping, and this bollocks ankle injury - I've finally got my leave date. I'm seeing The Twang in Birmingham and The Kooks in Paris the night after. Nothing excites me so much as planning, and finally putting a date to my leave has really made me feel comfortable again. There's something really rewarding about just knowing I'll be back before long.
There's a few people I am really excited to cause trouble with upon my arrival and so many places I want to revisit. I'm going to bed incredulously happy tonight. Plus tomorrow should be a brilliant day if all goes according to plan so hopefully it will just continue to be one perfect day after another.