Secret diaries and hurting heads

Dear Heart,
I'm aching to get outside and photograph something beautiful! I was horribly ill today - after managing to crawl into a Lit. seminar I sat in my first lecture wincing at the light of the monitor (unnecessarily bright) and the pain throbbing at my temples. I missed the next two lectures - the first in my university career. Is it pathetic that I feel guilty about this? Is it worse that I feel sad?!
They say that three weeks forms a habit, as blipping has proved. I never can wait to come here at the end of the day and pull together the scraps and patches of each day into some kind of coherent narrative! It makes everything seem fuller, somehow. Does that make any sense at all?
The next good habit I am trying to form is journal-keeping. At the moment my letters to you tend to spill over into secret-keeping and whining (best saved for a diary rather than one's dear heart, no?). Above is the first entry, saved in Web-land until I can find a pretty leather-bound book to write my secrets in.
I shall now drag my weary limbs to bed.
Love, Lydia x