Dear Diary
I spend all my time trying to convince myself I'm better, that I've conquered my demons, but Tix's death is proof that sometimes people don't recover. There are so many things I miss about Tix I can't hold them all in my head at once.
I miss being the only person who could touch her, I miss our middle-of-the-night chats, I miss coming up with fictional scenarios in which hot and/or famous men are forced to confess their undying love for us. When Kester told me the bad news one of the first things I did was imagine my own funeral. A funeral in which:
Finn would make a very public and emotionally devastating vow of chastity because sex with anyone else would be "against nature". There'd be a floral shrine so large that the borders of Stamford and eventually Lincolnshire have to be redrawn. News of my demise would reach Damon Albarn who, catatonic with grief, composes a song simply called "Why?"
For a moment I felt pleased that I'd stumbled across THE ULTIMATE FICTIONAL SCENARIO for tortured declarations from popstars, but then I remembered that the only person who'd appreciate my discovery was the one person who couldn't: Tixie.
