Self pity

When is it okay for you to officially label yourself desperate? Is it when you stand in the stairwell when you know when the object of your desire will be walking by (when you know when he's off work), hoping for a "How ya goin'?", or just a little glimps of the back of his head? Or is that just when your stalker tendancies rear it's nasty head? I don't know the answer to this question. But I'm starting to scare myself.

When do you know you've been forgotten? Is it when you're friends no longer send you forwards? Is it when your invitation to Sally's "big birthday bash", gets "lost" in the "mail" (or is this when you are no longer liked? A different category entirely...)? Or is it when you travel halfway around the world, leaving everything you've ever known and loved behind, and the only person you hear from is your mother who calls twice a week like clockwork to ask if you've eaten your greens? I've been gone for over three months, and the number of emails/phone calls from my nearestand dearest would have fallen well below the decade line if it weren't for my mother (bless her cotton socks), and call me selfish, call me high maitenance, call me bitch if you like, but this just isn't good enough.

When do you know you're a border-line alcoholic? Is it when you have to have a drink every night even if you're by yourself? Or is it when you go to the pub downstairs every night and spend the last money you have in your pocket on countless drinks for yourself, when you know very well that you're not going to be able to pay your rent on Tuesday, and your parents have no money left to lend you? The bouncers and bar staff at the Walkabout pub know me well as the Canadian girl who went upstairs with the manager on her third night at the hostel. I seem to have become nameless since I arrived here, known simply as "Canada".

When do you know that you are no longer one of the best looking girls staying at the hostel? Is it when you know you never were in the first place? Or is it when your friends move out of your room, ony to have their places taken by two 19 yr old Swedish beauties. The boys are all seeing blonde hair and blue eyes and that seems to be it. I am no longer being invited out by my previously good friends, and am no longer being put on the guest list at clubs. They seem to have taken my place.

So this is me. wallowing in self-pity, feeling forgotten and lonely, wondering what I'm doing here. Looking for myself in all the wrong places.