Stream Of Consciousness

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When I was very small, and fairly a young girl, I slept with a teddy-bear. A teddy-tiger, rather. It was small and fluffy and fit perfectly in my small arms in my fluffy pyjamas.
I... have a sister. When she was born, I had dressed in my pinkest finery, and, dripping with gentle jewellery, I had rushed into the hospital to greet my new small baby playmate. She was cute and small and teddy-bear like.
When I was born, I had been drugged up on pethadine.
Apparently so heavily medicated that I didn't even make a squeak.

My dad and his brother were down at the pub, and apparently it was my uncle who was first to hold me, not my dad.
I, personally, find that hilarious.

I was told today that I'm never serious, and I never ever take anything seriously. I contradicted them by saying that I had been deadly serious when I received my Physics mocks results (YESTERDAY).
Then I ruined it by bursting out into laughter.
I can't help it.
I'm always like that.
I find everything amusing. There's so much to laugh about in the world. So much to find ridiculous, so much to ridicule, so much to be amused by. Sometimes happy-genuine amused, sometimes patronising-condescending amused, and other times bitter-mocking-cynical amused.
But whichever it is, whether it's light or dark or black or cruel or kind or vanilla or naughty, there's so much to laugh at. To make fun of, to be amused at.
Why wouldn't I?

Sometimes I contemplate the possibility of the pethadine overdose at birth being the cause of me behaving like this. So still and silent when born, so determined to live and laugh in the middle bit.
Then I stop and think on what I just thought, and realise how utterly ridiculous I can be. :)
I'm the way I am because I want to be, not because of any early external influences :P

Anyway.
Life laughs, laughs live, we're all a happy family...
PAHAHAHAHAHA.

This is supposed to be a 'stream of consciousness', where everything I write is completely spontaneous - anything, anything and everything and nothing at the same time, probably completely nonsensical and most likely of poor, imbecilic standard.
Psh.
I'm just making it up as I go along. (Which I suppose is correct, as it is intended to be spontaneous)

Ella's drawn a pentacle onto my hand, and it's weird and doesn't look pretty and it's awkwardly clashing green with red on brown skin...
Christmas colours.
There's also an awkward hole in my tights and they're too small so they keep on slipping down and my 'p's are quite pretty, and this is completely and utterly irrational.
I... want a party.
With balloons and everything.
And music and dancing, and pretty dresses in flashing colours and clever people with cleverer jewellery.
It'll be gorgeous.
It'll be...
              Spectacular.














I hate physics.