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Saturday night

It's Saturday night and me, my laptop and several chocolate coin wrappers are on the sofa in front of The X Factor. This may will be a pleasurable way to spend an evening, but I shouldn't be here; I should be at Siobhan and Kat's house, with Fiona, getting ready to go out dancing in Fulham because Saturday night is party night. Unfortunately, Saturday afternoon is a dialysis afternoon and it was all I could do to get home let alone don my wet look leggings and get on the dance floor.

I have spent a good proportion of this evening trying to let go of the sadness, envy and self-pity that I have experienced as a result of missing out on tonight's festivities. It's pathetic - I'm pathetic. It's just a night out, there will be plenty more I am sure, but seeing a photo of my three friends looking giggly and gorgeous about to head out reduced me to tears. Getting dressed up, getting drunk and getting my groove on alongside my girlfriends used to be my favourite thing to do. The last time I went out and truly let my hair down was before I got ill...so that will be four years ago. I mourn constantly for the life I once had; 2012 will mark the start of my fifth year in kidney failure but I still haven't quite managed to acclimatise or accept it. Instead of focusing on the numerous positives in my life I get hung up on the negatives: missing one night out is a small price to pay for being healthy and happy in so many other respects. And instead of chalking tonight up to a loss and using the time productively - cracking on with my book, reading for my Masters, even cleaning the kitchen - I have wasted it, beached on the sofa, a fat lump huddled under a blanket. I've already lost half of my twenties to this condition; I want to spend the next five years dancing.

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