Dear Diary,
I am sat at a bus-stop surrounded by a trio of screaming pissed up teenagers. The time is passing excruciatingly slowly, and I can't get away from here quick enough. These puking kids are running riot, falling about the place, swearing and pissing and blowing chunks. The boy with them seems calms but the two birds are most unladylike. Sans decorum they were pestering me for cigarettes. Thankfully they got the message that I cannot help them. Crickey it's embarrassing even being near these ladettes. Ever dearest Janie is something of a tomboy but at least she's mature and sensible. I can't wait to see her. We have hardly slept since being reunited in love, and both of us are exhausted from being so... energetically in love. Even so, we're so addicted to one another that fighting fatuige is a petty price to pay when compared to what's in store this evening. We're like two bunnies. It's all ways tonight, a whirlwind of an affair. I am hooked on her, and am so glad the feeling's mutual. I used to like women in their twenties, on the basis that they're spontanious, pretty, and fun. Yet now I am beginning to see the advantages of being with a woman older than myself. Fidelity, sagacity, experience. I am massively into Janie.
The sun seems to shine on me from both sides now.
Maximus.
