When all the wine in the world is not enough to quench your thirst, and all the company you keep leaves you hollow and alone, and the tears you cry in your sleep fill an ocean their own, pity not your filthy soul, but the innocents who have never known what you mourn.

It's a common fact that those who pitty themselves ache only for what they have lost, and drown in the swamp of their own desires, never attempting to reach for salvation, preferring instead to let the murk swallow them whole. So beaten black and blue, I walk home, head held high, secure in the knowledge that this will all be over soon. My indignity, humiliation and pain all serve a purpose; to raise me up from this pit to a better place where I can then help others who have never known the pleasures of my short life.

I graduate in 3 months, in 3 weeks my dissertation will be finished, 3 years from now I will be a fully qualified lawyer, and so help me I will find a way that no woman ever has to do what I have had to just to survive. So many times I could have given up, taken the easy way out and drowned. But I won't. If I quit now, it will all be a waste, and people like him will have won.

So what if I have bruises that won't heal for a week, they're a reminder of what has to be done. How would I feel if I gave in now, and D ended up in the same mess? So fuck the fuckers who think I'm their own private play thing, to be tossed and torn like a leaf on the wind. You'll get yours, when the time comes, I promise you.

Until then, I'll lie back, think of England, whatever.