Being housebound is not good for me.

DAY 5342

I write to you now with little hope of survival.

If somebody finds this, then I am long gone. Do with my remains what you will.

All this revision means I'm trapped in the house all day. Both Ian and I have exams, and for the last couple of days we've been alone in the house revising none stop. I wonder how long it'll be before we resort to cannibalism?

Am going to Hallett's tomorrow to have a super happy history revisiony day. It will be the first properly human contact I have had in days.

I have forgotten to clean my teeth for two days now. I am turning into an animal. AN UN-ENVIRONMENTALLY FRIENDLY ANIMAL! Today, I threw away lots of clothes. They could have gone to the needy! Haw haw!

On a serious note, however: the things which took place in Cumbria today were repugnant, but you know what really galls me? That fucking, cunting, sub-human scum has got exactly what he wanted: Infamy.

He was a nobody, and probably had such an unaturally inflated opinion of himself that he thought the whole world shoud know his name, and before he went out, he'd take as many innocent people as possible out with him.

And what's more, he killed himself rather than go to prison- the cowardly twat- meaning he won't have seventeen types of shit kicked out of him on a daily basis, and that he will become a kind of enigma for other psycopaths.

It's like that man that mowed down a reception class years ago. They're scum. They're the lowest form of humanity. They don't even deserve human status. 'It' would be better than 'he.'