Dark Thoughts

Going to uni this year. I'll be 28 when I finish. I have never in my life thought a full three years ahead, never. I don't like it. To be honest, for a long time I never thought I'd make it to the age of 24. I was certain that I'd be dead by now. This is because...I was mad. Mad as a bag of ferrets. I had not been introduced to the wonderful world of pills.
I wonder if I shouldn't have picked a more academic course. I mean, a degree in Media Writing? That doesn't sound very impressive. Then again, I shouldn't kid myself; the only reason I'm doing it is so I can live in London again. Its difficult growing up in a big fuck off city, then moving to a decaying seaside town that seems to exist in its own horrible little dimension just, at the point at which you become an adult. I've been stuck here for nine years. Nine. There is a local legend which states that Hastings was cursed at some stage. The longer you live here, the more it seems to make sense. Out of the people I knew in this town: three suicide attempts, one successful, one death from illness, two heroin addictions, one case of paranoid schizophrenia, one messy divorce, one jail sentence. It was also the setting for my spectacular downfall. And I never got out much. Maybe its like this in every town, I dunno.
Any city would be better than here. Except for (spits) Southampton. I'd rather live in Baghdad than Southampton. Southampton should be burned to the ground. Southampton is an offence to human decency. I hate the place this much and I was only there for two days. Fuck Southampton and all who sail in her.
And once again I've completely lost my train of thought.