April3
In bed 6.15am. Remembering a ‘friend’ of a friend turning to me years ago and asking casually ‘what’s your cash cow then?’ And I didn’t know what she was talking about. I had never heard of this ‘cash cow’ thing that everybody is meant to have. She assumed I like everyone around her, had some private income. I must have given that impression. Why? why? why? I hate how class ridden and money concerned this country is. Maybe I had drifted into that world without realising it; I could pass and play the twat. It flattered me but how naive. I don’t like myself sometimes.
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