eventually

Eventually even I get sick of whining. I hate the sound of my voice when I get upset so, on the phone, I decide to change tack and spend some time listing a few of the things that I love about the world.

Good things. It went like this:

Jelly-beans. The gourmet ones that come with a menu and you get flavours like cinnamon and Pina Colada.

The green ones taste best. It's a sure thing when you pick a green one, even without the menu.

Cider, and the way that pints of it go straight to my head.

Boursin.

Alanis Morrisette songs.

Peeing outside.

Telling my best friend that I'll always be her bitch and getting her mascara on my white t-shirt when she cries.

Socks. The word, and the socks themselves.

My bed. My sheets. My quilt and my teddies and my glow in the dark aquarium on the ceiling.

The poems I printed out and stuck on my wall.

Shakespeare.

Depeche Mode.

Sweetcorn.

Films with Jim Carrey in.

My wellies.

My parents.

My Bloodstock festival t-shirt that has the name of my brother's band in the line-up.

Swearwords, shouted out loud, in public.

Atomic bomb moments.

Making lists.

Writing in italics.

Abba. The father. Not the band. They were shite. God's great. There's a subtle difference.