Day7 Mar 17

Today is the best and the worst day of my life. The shit that I have foreseen comes sooner than I expected. I had the shittiest argument in my life and I am desperately looking for a move. Danny is much uncivilized than one can be, god, he's a university graduate and he shouted at me with all the f-words, and said it was me who fucking shouting at him.

Desperately I called the nasty guy for somewhere to stay instead. I don't know how shitty things can be but I have stood enough of it.

I have met an actor who names Ronnie and he brought me to his script-writing class. I did not fucking agreed that I'd be back by 5, how on earth did Danny think that way. And I got a lovely sketch from Tommy, a friend of Ronnie. Everything was fine and fun until I got home. That so-called home.

I am just so fucking overwhelmed but I can't take things with simply emotions. It's no place ruled by reasons but reason is the only option.

Wish I were bullet-proof. It's the worst shit in my history and I'd start my life in any hostel instead if I had had a choice. Things can't go back, no they can't. I lack even any internet to search for the next possible place to stay.

I will be the toughest 21-year-old girl on earth. I will be, definitely. I have no choice, optionless. I can't go back to Hong Kong empty-handed in this way.

Maybe I gotta learn to compromise a bit, but I have compromised enough as I have learnt so far, so that 50 pounds, I have no fucking way to compromise. I need reasons and civilization.

Thanks god I know some non-barbarians in Liverpool finally. Hope they can bring me somewhere, less shitty.

I am the toughest 21-year-old. I definitely am. I don't want to stick with men and wait for their offer. I gotta find a proper job to keep me painting and breathing. Things are crazy like shit here.

It's my exile after all, knowing nobody, having no money.

Now surely I understand money can't solve every shit. Control and predictability do. There are always more to see than to be seen, to do than to be done, I can't allow myself sticking in such shit after all.

But I still have credit card for renting a bed in the hostel, isn't it? Or should I really make my way to London? God, I don't want to, but if I have no choice.

Should I stay in the fucking house tomorrow or should I climb out from the window for another exile? I can't make up my mind. Both options are equally dangerous. What have I really walked into?