Actually, what she said was more along the lines of "You're going to spill that milk."
"... [smug look]"
"You think you're so smart."
"... [smug look]"
And less than ten seconds later, I did indeed see.
Last night I was drinking milk whilst using the laptop. Of course, being
ingenious, as I am, I was holding the cup between my teeth [look, no hands!], prompting my mother to issue her dire predictions.
Whaddyaknow. It fell. All over the laptop, over the lounge I was sitting on, on the floor, on my pants (yes, those ones >.<), on my hoodie, in my hair, over my face. EVERYWHERE. My mother was not amused. Needless to say, I was, although also somewhat abashed...
Shoulda taken a picture.
"And Cinderella Lost her Shoe", bringing you Toivoa's extremely uncoordinated moments (or epic fails) online since October 2008 (although under several different names). All events created and enacted by Toivoa, who's simply been bringing them, since 1992.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Actually, what she said was more along the lines of "You're going to spill that milk."
No, really. Losing the most important people in my life, having to deal with reading "Fresh and rosy-fingered Dawn" every five pages in the copy of "The Odyssey" we are studying in Classical Studies, failing German, crappy haircuts that apparently make me look like John Lennon, breaking my life line aka my mobile with no likelihood of a new one anytime soon, my dad being overseas for three weeks, lack of sleep; all of that, sure, I can deal [that was only half sarcasm]. BUT A HOLE IN MY FAVOURITE JEANS??? You have got to be shitting me.
I mean, come on, I practically live in these jeans. I had hunted for a pair of black skinny leg jeans that my legs didn't look fat in for freaking forever, and when I found them, well, I freaking wore them all the freaking time! I wear them to school, I wear them out, I wear them to church. I wear them everywhere. Sometimes I even wear them to bed. I wore them to Soundwave, an Australian alternative/metal music festival on a day with very high temperatures. They were filled with dust, but they lived through that awesome day with me. How, how can they die now? I do not understand.
See, this happened with one of my previous pairs of jeans also. The hole is suddenly there, so high up on the inside of my thigh that it's almost in crutch area. Okay, it's pretty much there. Yes, I know. It seems really suss. But. WHAT THE HELL??? I just do normal things that one does while wearing jeans. You know, sitting, standing, falling over, running, whatever the hell you do in ordinary life. Occasionally I'll slide on my butt somewhere in them but, come on. HOW DOES THIS FREAKING OCCUR?
I don't understand. Is it because they're really tight and I always sit cross legged in them and they just... frayed? I don't know! All I know is that, well, it's not really advisable for me to wear them any longer. I think I'm going to die. I have no other option. I love my jeans, I am a jeans girl. I cannot pull off trackies, which is why I only ever wear them around the house. I wear jeans on long flights, on long car trips, everywhere. They're so comfortable. I love them. This can't be the end of our long and beautiful friendship, in which they look good on my legs and cover my scars and keep me from having to wear shorts or the school skirt which I need to continually readjust and also expose my scars.
Not all that keen to be labelled the school emo.
Fuck my life.
P.S. Guys, head over to my friend Kate's blog and give some sympathy to someone who really needs it, having lost all information on their hard drive of the last three years. Devastating? It actually is, when you consider all the memories in the form of photographs and other such mementos contained on her computer. So. Send her love, she's awesome. (:
P.P.S. [10.01PM] I. Still. Cannot. Believe. That. Ifrickinbrokemypants. Broke all my phones, broke the keyboard thing, broke my friendships, broke every pair of headphones I have ever owned, broke my flute somehow, and a whole crap load of other stuff. It's official. I break everything.
In other news, I managed to score 75% on an in-class essay about The Odyssey in Classical Studies that I did practically no study for prior. I'm pretty stoked. Chuffed, let's use that. I'm pretty chuffed. But I can't keep fluking it. In the holidays, I will get organised. I want my TER (tertiary entrance rank) score at the end of the year to be a minimum of 90. Not sure if that's even achievable anymore. I need to check that.
Monday, March 30, 2009
I swear to god that if all I get is these stilted, maligned with huge gaps conversations with the ex best friend for the remainder of time our friendship would have lasted, that is enough for me. Just to get to talk to him, even about, essentially, nothing... It's still talking to him and that makes me so happy. Even though I have to remind myself to hold back the "i love you" that I almost add at the end of a conversation, which still comes so naturally to me because I still do love him and I know he doesn't care or want to hear it, I'm still so glad I can talk to him, just a little. If you remember the day when he started talking to me once more and then my second post from that time, and then my third, I practically had a heart attack. ;P I was so shocked and so... I don't know. But if this is the best it gets between us, I'll take that. Gratefully. (:
So maybe I've been watching far too many episodes of Pokemon and Digimon online recently thanks to Surf the Channel and it's way past midnight (2.08AM), but that's neither here nor there. I'm so... hungry. I crave something, but I don't know what. See, usually, when I'm up late and get the Midnight (and onward) Munchies, which we'll abbreviate to the M&M's coz I'm cool like that, it is Doritos that I desire.
Not this time. Well thank God because we currently have none in the house, I guess they haven't been on special lately, but the problem is that I don't even know what I want. I crave something, but nothing comes to mind. What specific taste is it that I need..? We have Fanta, which is great, but I can't drink it since it's not even supposed to have been opened yet... The only cookies we have are too sweet and painfully crunchy. We have no chips. Yeah that's about it.
Chris will be away from school for another week. I talked to him for the first time in over a week on MSN on Saturday night, but not for very long since he had to leave for dinner. He had his tonsils removed so he hasn't been at school, and since my phone is broken he can't get in contact with me. We're also both barely on MSN. I just... expected to miss him more. Now that I've talked to him, I do, I think. I want to talk to him properly, on the phone, or something. Not likely until I can somehow get my home number to him since he keeps forgetting to save it. I'm paranoid that he is getting over me like I always do with other people.
I miss the ex best friend. I miss the others. I miss Jimit. And Justin. And sleep.
I want new clothes. I want to watch the Jetsons and further episodes of How I Met Your Mother. I want a sleepover and a night in town. I want the movie drinking night I planned with my best friend Nick where we watch our favourite movies and have lightsaber fights coz we're into Star Wars since we're such cool kids; and hang out and drink together (because that other time does not count and we've agreed never to mention it again). I want to drink champagne with My Mofo's friend DJ and on the other hand do girly stuff; I want DnM's with a girl who will tell me what I need to hear and I want to skip lessons to sit outside KFC in the morning waiting for the chip shop to open, and go to the shops after school rather than straight home; I want a friend to walk home with no matter how much I love my sister, and good friends to hang out with in frees, not people that honestly I hardly talk to.
And damnit I want to know what munchies I crave and I want to eat them! OM NOM NOM (damnit Jake, looks like you won me over in that argument...)
Friday, March 27, 2009
I thought I'd tell the story of my first close best friend. Be warned, its long. Our closeness lasted a year, while we were in grade eight to nine, or perhaps nine to ten. I forget. We were friends for a while before that, but after my birthday in June one year, we started sharing everything with each other. It was strange and somewhat terrible on both our parts to lose such a friendship, particularly for her, and it did not end well. I think I grew out of my need for her, or something. Either way, I didn't want to accept my irritation at her and thus, it grew until I was incredibly angry at her, and we had a series of fights that were incredibly vicious (on my side) and cruel (also on my side). I was ashamed of myself when I thought about it, even at the time, and yet I closed off those emotions in order to be sadistic in a way I didn't know I was capable of. I am reminded of a passage in the text we are currently studying in English, but I shan't go into that.
She and I were vastly different from each other. She was logical, reasoning; did everything based on my emotions. She didn't really care how she looked, I definitely did (although you wouldn't have been able to tell from that ridiculous fringe I had for far too long sometime during that period of my life). She liked Maths, what the hell??? She didn't own a pair of jeans, I practically lived in them. She wasn't keen on hugs, I adored them. She wasn't comfortable talking about a lot of topics that come up in typical girl conversations, and was my polar opposite in nearly every way. (Sorry if my view of this is any different to yours)
It was odd that we were friends, if you think about it. But friendship has never been dictated by what two, or more, have in common. It's somewhat inexplicable. A lot of types of love are... Take that, logic! Anyway, in real life, our conversations without others were stilted and awkward; both struggling to come up with anything to speak of. However, we used to talk via text messaging all the time, we said so much in texts that we began to use abbreviation techniques that no one else could understand, so shortened were they. If we had not, we would each have run out of credit even faster than we did, and we used our credit incredibly rapidly.
We stayed up till 4 in the morning at times, talking about all kinds of things in texts, and then began to make phone calls at the same time, using the free minutes we received with our credit recharging plan. Then, we'd talk so much. We told us each other nearly everything, we could read each other's actions and notice hidden meanings in our words at school. We had a crazily special connection, I could try for years and not be able to define it exactly. We still had the really awkward conversations in real life, and even during the day our phone calls could go minutes without either of us having anything to say, broken by an occasional "so..." Like I said, odd friendship.
She was the first to find out about my hurting myself, when it did begin, months into our friendship, although she found out later. When I did tell her, she used all her logic to try to convince me not to. I've tried to stop for various reasons before, as I've mentioned. One reason was her. My other friends, the other friends, were a huge part of how I did eventually stop. July the 2nd, 2008. Last time ever. Almost nine months, I think. Haha, that's almost long enough to have a baby. ugh.
I learned random interesting facts from her, as she discovered them. I don't understand how our friendship fit together, but it did. I loved her, she loved me. We were there for each other even when we would fight. Like I said, I can't explain what was between us. Anyway, we were very good friends.
And then I got mad and was the hugest bitch ever to her. But that link we had, it's still there. We still sometimes occasionally have text conversations and late night phone calls. Well, we did, when I had my phone. It's different, of course. Certain things are no longer said, are not able to be said. But we still have that openness, to an extent, she still gives me advice. I really respect her advice still. And value her opinion, with some things. It is something weird that exists between us now, but now that all the anger has gone, and the pain and hurt has eased a little, it is something weird, but kinda good. Odd, like our friendship has always been. But not in a bad way.
I don't really want to drink anymore. I always thought it was stupid. I make no sense, I know.
But anyway, nearly every time I drink something bad happens. Except at my best friend's seventeenth recently; that was fun, and even then, if Chris wasn't, well, if he wasn't who he was, then, well yeah, I'd have just one more thing to regret. Oh and this one other party last year but then I didn't have very much to drink. Those have also been the only two times that I haven't called the ex best friend since. The time before my friend's seventeenth, well, that was bad. I called him about twenty times and left four voice messages on his voicemail. I also called Justin. And then there's the other thing, the thing that I don't really want to talk about yet. I will soon, but not right now.
Drinking is fun sometimes though, with my best friend, with a certain other friend, and with my best friend from school, etc. I just think that in certain situations I should drink less. Even if that means drinking crappy drinks like Pulse and Vodka Cruisers (I'm really not a fan).
I am getting $50 from some guy in my homegroup for swallowing a teaspoon's worth of cinnamon in one go. What to buy? Not credit, since my phone has succumbed to the grave. And this really pretty dress I want is $60. I suppose, if I waited a week, I could get it. I owe a few people money, but no more than ten bucks all up. So many possibilities... I really want new shoes, and new clothes. Not even want, but need. Really.
Sorry for degeneratng into talking about complete random musings here. I really have nothing to write about that comes to mind, except the thing. Like I said, not now.
EDIT: I am so tired. I want to sleep. But I have realised that the thing is, every night when it is time for me to go to bed, I'm almost scared to get off the computer. Some nights I don't even go on until around nine, but I delay and delay leaving because I hate having no connection to other people. Because now I don't have my phone. And I usually have a conversation with someone before I go to bed, be it Chris or my sister or a friend or something, on the phone or in person when with my sister, or even a good conversation over MSN with Nick or the ex best friend, or something. It just helps me sleep better.
I should probably explain just why choosing Chris over Italics Boy was a good idea, especially in hindsight. I know Chris thinks Italics Boy is a total prick after what I told him, but he's not, really. I love how Chris didn't try to convince me to be with him over Italics Boy, but waited until I actually decided for myself. It must have sucked for him. I think I miss him. I wish I didn't get over guys so fast. I don't know.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
I will never hurt myself again.
That is a fact.
I don't want to, and I can't.
In all that I did, I lost the two most precious people ever. I want to make this clear, if I haven't before. This whole friends thing; it wasn't their fault. It was never their fault and if I implied that at all, that is not what I meant. They are amazing people, and amazing friends. I'm not mad at them, I never was. I'm mad at the situation, at myself for causing it, even though the exact things that set it off I'm still unsure about. And oh god I still do the same thing, I just realised. I just stop talking to people because I get moody. Do I learn anything???
I've learned some self respect, at least. Even when at times I feel so, so lost.
And if this is over forever, that's my fault too. I was too scared to talk to them for so long, that when I did try, maybe then it was already too late. And now, oh my god. It's been so long. Too long? Even though I know nothing will ever probably fix this, I still want to. So much. Sometimes I want to give up and forget and just. stop. Just hurt myself as much as possible so that nothing else matters anymore. But I am never ever doing that again. It's destructive to more than myself. I'm sick of hurting other people and ruining friendships. I'm so fucking selfish, and I hatehatehate it.
I want to start over somewhere else, I've wanted to move schools. Every class, every time I see them makes me choke on how much I miss them because of what I've done. That may be the one thing I can never forgive myself for. I hope they never forgive me for it either.
I could have been a better friend to them, like they were to me. I think it was when it came to myself that I fucked everything up. I don't want any of that "they're the ones missing out" crap, because, no, it is not their fault. They don't deserve anyone to think less of them for it, especially if you don't know them. They are fucking amazing and gorgeous and it was me who lost through my own fault.
You know what, I want to be innocent again. As innocent as I used to be. I ruined that too. I never learn from my mistakes, do I? I'm fucking ridiculous at times.
But I will never ever ever ever self harm again. I am so done with that.
EDIT: I still try to imagine what it would be like if we did try to work things out. Would it just... not happen? Even if we tried? It would be strange, and awkward. Would we have anything to talk about? I don't know.
I should probably do some homework. I'm behind and god how am I going to pass this year? German, especially. And Biology. And Maths. English and Classical Studies are the only two things I think I can do well in, and I'm still behind in English... Ugh.
EDIT: I think the whole eating all the time thing is kinda better now. It's back to normalish, still a bit too much junk food but I'm working on that. Although I think if I have to eat any more carrot or cucumber I might shoot myself in the head. If I had a gun and all. I haven't talked to Chris in over a week. I've practically forgotten what he's like. I'm sure it will be fine when I see him again...
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
[Guys, I've written a new story on my other blog, Head in the Clouds. If you can and would like to, please take the time to check it out and even leave your comments, opinions, and constructive criticism? That'd be great, since I'm as unsure about it as ever. I'm aiming to write properly more regularly again as well, if you're interested. (:]
Today was good. The results for my latest Maths test turned out to be 52% (55 for a pass), but I've done well in other tests so far and my overall term grade is 74%, a B. Next term I'm going to make up the 11 percent needed to get an A. As for a majorly important Biology test I was worrying about; turns out I scored 82%. I was so incredibly relieved and excited at this. After school I went to my best friend's house for a few hours; she doesn't go to my school. So that was good.
But the best thing about today so far was a simple smile.
The ex best friend and I are in some weird territory at the moment; if you read back a couple of months, you'll see that we are talking slightly once again, mainly on MSN and greeting each other when we pass by at school. That had stopped for a while, and then has begun again over the last few weeks. I doubt I've written about it, because I don't want to hope that anything will come of it. Today, it went beyond that. It was nothing, really. And yet, it is everything to me; I could not keep from smiling for hours afterward. He smiled at me.
He's not the kind of person who smiles all that often, in fact he has said repeatedly that he doesn't like to. He also sent me an email saying hi yesterday at school, which I only read when I checked my inbox today. We used to talk all the time through emails at school. Sometimes texts, and then during Supervised Study (a crappier version of a free), I'd try to get to a computer so we could talk cheaply via email. We spent so much time together. Walking to and from school, sneaking out at night for walks, recesses and lunch, ditching class for a few minutes or completely on a number of occasions, talking on MSN each evening, going to town together on Saturdays, and having text conversations in between. Emailing during school was a huge part of this.
He smiled at me. The realisation only seeped into my mind as I walked away, and for the remaining lessons I had, I was very happy. I know I kept breaking into smiles like an idiot as I walked home by myself, and it was one of the first things I said to my best friend once I saw her. Talk about making my day. Although he always has. Well, either made or broken, if he was sad or angry.
And I've been letting myself imagine us becoming friends again. He's initiating all this. And I want this so much. I imagine having good conversations with him once more, spending time with him, hanging out for him, sneaking out for walks with him, just once in a while, and his hugs. He gives really good hugs. If I could have him back, even just as a friend; I can't let myself think about best friends, I don't think I could contain my happiness. Even without the other two (it's so hard to refer to them on here because I have no names for them), just having him at least would make everything better. I had completely given up on this, but ohmygod he fucking smiled at me today!
It's like I have a huge pathetic celebrity crush view towards him. Like ohmigod he smiled at me!!! I'm so lame ;P But it's more important than any crush. Because he was my best friend. Friends are more important than guys, like that. And I am so excited at the possibility of being his friend again, as much as I try to temper it. He was an amazing friend. He's not necessarily easy to be friends with, and at times was even kinda scary when he was angry, but I loved him and love him and maybe maybe he will love me again sometime. He means the world to me.
I'll be honest, if I was to cheat on Chris with anyone, it would be him. If he kissed me again, I would kiss him back. There would be almost no question of pulling away, although I would, after a while, because he
is was (get a grip Toivoa) just my best friend and Chris is my boyfriend or something or other. Just my best friend? Hah. Not many more people are of more importance to me than him. I couldn't miss him anymore than I do. I would do anything for him, anything to make him happy.
But it won't happen, kissing him. We've been through that. I don't even know if we'll ever be able to call each other best friends again. All I know is that I want this with every fibre of my being, every macromolecule in my body, every cell and protein and organelle, with every homologous chromosome and every other biological thing within me. ;D I want this so badly, and I know I felt this way when he first began speaking to me again, but I can't stop to let myself be scared at it going wrong. I've gone so many sleepless nights reliving the memories, cried so many tears and felt physically ill or in pain due to missing him so utterly; and in keeping with the Backstreet Boys, "All I'm going to be without
you him is incomplete..."
To the others, these are painfully fitting;
"What do you do
At this very moment when I think of you?
I still need you
I still care about you
Though everything's been said and done
I still feel you
Like I'm right beside you
But still no word from you.
Instead of moving on, I refuse to see
That I keep coming back
And I'm stuck in a moment."
Jake Iloveyousomuch. As a friend and only that.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Teenagers may "scare the living shit" out of Gerard Way and co., but for me I get that from children at a much younger stage in their lives. Toddlers. They're terrifying! Don't get me wrong, I love kids. No, that's a lie. It would be more correct to say "I love kid". I'm all cool with them when they are in the singular, or perhaps even two together are okay, and I know them on a personal level. When I have actually met them and get to hang out with them and read them storybooks and play their little games and kowtow to their every whim in the hopes of keeping them from screaming uncontrollably. To be fair, perhaps I don't like the competition. I throw pretty big tantrums... But in a hormonal teenager kinda way. You know, the way that would scare the living shit out of My Chemical Romance...
Anyhow. It is the mobs, the hordes, of the little things that cause me to shudder and cringe. [Isn't horde spelt "hoarde"? No, Mozilla Firefox spell check? >.< ...okay.] For example, the horde in the kindergarten that I must pass as I walk home from school every day. In the morning it's fine since they're either arriving or inside, I don't know and I don't really care. It's in the afternoon that they are out in the garden area to play, feeding off each others' boundless energy.
And as their parents pick them up, letting one or two out through the gate in order to take them home (God knows why), I have been known to let out a scream and jump a mile high when one has run past me in their eagerness and probably on a sugar high... I didn't know it was there! And suddenly a little thing shot past me. You'd scream too. Really.
Note how I refer to them as "it" and "thing". Those children are not humans, I swear. Even when in the singular, I do not know them and if they are not within a centimetre's reach of a parent, I do not like them. I do not trust them. They may look cute, sure, but. They are evil. I dare you to convince me otherwise.
Oh, apart from the ones in the library that run to see Solomon the snake in his cage, peering through the glass on tip toes, eager to see him move. That's just funny, entertaining, and I like those ones because they're not scared of snakes. And yes, I still call them "those ones". They can be assigned genders and proper human status when they're older. ;P
Another reason for my specific dislike of the children at this kindergarten in particular - once, while walking past with my sister, a bunch of them lined up at the fence, holding the bars like little prisoners, as they are prone to do. One dropped their hat outside the bars so I picked it up and returned it to them. (I may not like them but I am nice...) On seeing this, the other fiendish minions decided that this was a brilliant new game, and so, to the sounds of delighted peals of laughter, promptly began throwing their hats through the bars for my sister and I to return. I gave up quickly and began to walk off but my sister, helpless and beguiled by their youth and seeming innocence, continued to try to return their hats, fighting a losing battle. It took much urging on my part to bring her to leave. Evil and conniving.
Anyone else have tales of run ins with the evil ones of that age? No? Fine. I stand by this.
I do want to have my own children some day, but for now I'm not really keen on those stages... Hopefully by the time this comes around, I'll have changed my mind.
Don't even get me started on all the other major flaws I see in the process, and fears; such as the eugh-ness of being pregnant, not to mention GIVING BIRTH (I think my mind just died a little at the thought), and what if I had an ugly baby? Even worse, what if when it grew up and through adolescence and its teenage years, it was ugly? I'm not just being superficial here, although, well, I am; but it would most likely get a lot of shit from other people. People are mean. Look at me. And if it was stupid? So many complications, so many variables... That said, I disagree with the concept of Designer Babies.
So I have an essay to write and this post is essential pointless meaningless rambling; as per most of posts, come to think of it. Maybe I should work on the content of this blog... That's what tomorrow's for. Probably for that essay too...
Monday, March 23, 2009
If you have noticed, yes, my last three posts, including this one, have all been titled with lyrics from the same Shannon Noll (Australian Idol runner up years back) song. Yes, Shannon Noll. I know that's shameful for several reasons, but shhh. ;P
The last two were untitled and I happen to be listening to the song in question, and the lyrics seemed to (sorta) fit. Come to think of it, vast amounts of Backstreet Boys lyrics would probably be appropriate for my posts... Yeah that's definitely cause for shame ;P
I hate untitled posts.
I just remembered a dream I had on Friday night which terrified me so much I could not sleep again for hours. The friends, my best friends, although I don't know if I can call them that anymore, although in my mind they still are, and always will be; not the ex best friend (we are talking a little, still), but the other two, were the main feature in it. Nick was in it a little also, and various other people. It was so horrifyingly realistic that right now I want to stop my mind.
I hate the coincidental glances that have the shock of the unexpected moments of eye contact, and I wonder if the deadness I see is reflected in my eyes. It's definitely not reflected within. When I'm taken especially by surprise I literally feel sick.
I don't understand how it could get to this point.
And I can't explain the dream, my remembrance of it has already faded but left me with a dread I can't quite encapsulate in words. This whole thing is so... wrong.
I need some coffee.
I practically single-handedly express all the teen angst that is tolerable in the world. Time to stop being pathetic, Toivoa.
I am resuming my job hunt, although I don't know what good it will do, considering how completely unsuccessful it was before. But cross your fingers for me. I just want a part time job!
I'm dying without my phone here, kay? ;P
And God knows I need money for everything, our canteen is so expensive, and how else will I support local business in our financial crisis? That cafe really needs my business! And I really need their $4 Mochas! That's in Large, so that's really good... Mmm. It's been like, a week. Since my little caffeine scare. I'd link it, but I really am too lazy at the moment.
I remember the days when we'd go to the shops for a bag of fries I'd share with my best friend. Just like now, the lady at the counter would know our order, but that was a lot more embarrassing. And yet, my Mocha just isn't as much fun as wagging school to wait outside K.F.C., further away from the school, till the chip shop would open; and then stuff our faces with the most unhealthy, most delicious chips... Yes, that's right, we would actually wait for the shop to open. We couldn't go to school until we'd been, so we had to wait... From around 9 till 10.
I miss those conversations about everything. I miss having a best friend like that.
This became about them, one of them at least, again. I'm sorry.
And I mean that on more than one level, to more than just one group of people.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
...you won't be here by my side,
all of a sudden I feel hollow..."
I think I'll lock my heart away in a glass case.
It's best for me, and you.
Still beating, of course. I want to stay alive, at a distance. Can that work? I can try.
You don't want to hear it, and even if you did, I can't talk about it, any of it. Not anymore. And not even that. I don't trust half of you anymore. What happened to us? I miss those times when we were all so close, and you were less critical, more understanding, when I was so innocent, although I didn't know it. When I had ethics I would hold to.
When we understood each other, and actually gave a crap.
I feel like I'm trapped by all the things I can't say, for all the different reasons. I want someone to talk to. Do you know how much I want someone I can talk to about most things? I don't have that. Sure, there's Lynley, Kathleen. Even Nick. But, it's not the same, you know? People aren't replaceable.
It's like I've imprisoned myself with everything I've said and done, and I've used others to hurt me without even knowing I was doing it at the time, and let others hurt me and I don't know why and I have no idea where I am. I'm stumbling all over the place, going backwards, in circles, straining forward and sometimes even moving in that direction. But from watching me, you'd think I'm a blind man struggling to find his way. Which is pretty close to the truth, just make that blind man female. And I see fine, physically.
The worst of it, though, is thinking that I'm alright, that I'm okay, and trying not to look too closely. Because when I do, I see all the bars and fences and the traps that I have set, and none of these barricades are crumbling, the only thing that is crumbling is me.
Oh god. I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm scared to look at myself because I'm so hollow; at times bear any physical form of contact because the heat of another person or even my hand against my arm was too much, I thought it might burn through the cardboard cutout and expose the lack of anything inside. I can't hide my own emptiness from myself all the time, it's tiring. It's not easy to continually lie to yourself. But I don't think I have any other option. I can't let myself fall apart like I did towards the end of last year. I don't want to come home from school every day and cry uncontrollably for hours. I don't want to scream at everyone over nothing. I don't want to lose my desire to live. I really think I'm secretly already back there. Maybe I never left. But I convinced myself I did. I think I did. I was/am getting better. But there's a part of me that stayed there all of this time, hurting and crying, and another part that's numb, perhaps beyond revival. And they drag me back.
I have no idea. Of anything. I want to walk through the next few years with my earphones in and my music up full blast, and come out on the other side and pick up my life and get on with it. But I can't because if I take a holiday from life right now, in a few years it will just be more of a mess. I just want to leave. I just want to leave! Just for a little while.
But, for you anyway, I'm going to pretend I'm fine. As much as I can. I'm getting better at it. Hiding it. But this blog is the one place I can scream and vent and cry as much as I am able, so for those of you I see most days, detach that me from this one. We're not the same. She's a lot more fake.
Pretend she's real though, okay? For me? For you? No matter how hard she has to force her smile. I owe that to you, at least.
EDIT (10.56PM) : Getting drunk is stupid (just trawling through memories). Why do I do it? I shall refrain. At least from getting really drunk. Stupidstupidstupid. Ugh.
a) scared that I'm pregnant (long story... i'm paranoid and yeah let's not get into it right now)
b) scared that I'm going to fail Year Twelve for a variety of reasons
c) not liking my new hair
d) tired as always
e) without a phone (interesting story, that)
f) eating a lot. like. so much. I just eat. All the time.
g) regretful. about so much.
h) wanting coffee, credit, and a phone
i) confused about the thing with chris; shouldn't I care more that I haven't seen him or talked to him in 5 days? Because, before, the weekend was a strain. I know, it's been three weeks, a month max. ish. Why do I get over guys so fast? Although yesterday I kinda missed him. But this means more time to hang out with Lynley, which is always good...
j) wondering why I'm using letters here rather than numbers, or not just simply bullet points.
k) going to go start my homework now.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
That's probably something to be glad about ;)
Although, I'm an alright - good friend. It's in other social contexts I don't seem to do very well;
Having a boyfriend / whatever Chris is (we're not officially going out, although I thought we were at one point, I think both of us are kinda confused about that so should probably clear that up sometime but I don't really care to be honest), is not that great. Not that I thought it was, but it's something close to hard work. I mean it's good, mostly. And I already knew relationships were hard work, I'm not that stupid. But the question is, can I bothered with that? You're required to do stuff. Not like that. But actually spend time with them and all that jazz, and put in effort. I have to show affection, and God knows, I get really anti social at times. I have teary / sad moments every day and you just gotta stay away from me then. Being alone is good sometimes. Friendships are so much easier...
Not that those things aren't necessary in friendships, but it's more relaxed. You share around. I am fully not saying I want to be in an open relationship type thing, but sigh. So, and I feel a little guilty about this, but I'm kinda glad Chris is going to be away from school for the next week or so. Or at least, I won't see him that long. Being with Jimit was great because I didn't see him so regularly, but even then I'd get sick of being around him, or talking to him all the time. And sometimes I'd cancel when we were supposed to hang out because I didn't feel like it. I don't really have that option here...
Yes, I'm a terrible girlfriend / whatever. I really just don't care enough. Or perhaps I am going through another stage of trying to avoid being in a relationship. But come on, I don't really think I'm ready for one anyway. Although, I probably never will be.
I miss Justin like anything. We're supposed to hang out soon, I hope.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
The Twilight obsession.
It is getting to the point where I may end up being one of those high school shooter people.
Enough with the tshirts, people. You are not Mrs Edward Cullen. Fuck You. The light in this room is blinking. That worries me. Back to my point. Edward Cullen is not real. Edward Cullen and Bella whateverthefuckherlastnameis are not proof of true love, because they and their relationship is not real. I don't care if his muscles are as smooth as marble and his paleness makes you scream. "Hold on tight spider monkey" because I am about to slap you across the face. I will definitely hurt you. And as for the movie; do not get me started. I can't take it can'ttakeitcan'ttakeit and I may snap and shoot you with a gun I do not have. As yet. Take that as a warning.
The movie is even worse than the books. So much worse. There are lines from the book which feature in it completely out of context and so, to any who have been smart enough to not read the book, makes no sense whatsoever.
Lucky me I got to see it twice in cinemas.
Okay the light just cut out. That's not good.
My own fault; I'd promised my best friend I'd see it with her when it came out (why for the love of god why) and ended up watching it with another friend first when she was in New Zealand. I begged, I pleaded, I cried; all to no avail. She guilted me over that promise and to this day I wish I had just broken my word. How can one explain the pain? Nothing was worth that.
Maths is great. No, really. I have a teacher who looks somewhat like a seal with an obviously fake weird shade of blonde wig and weird grey facial hair; as well as being able to move more silently than a ninja. I swear. He's also my homegroup teacher and we get along like a house on fire. Not really.
I hate my life. He's not that keen on me as a student, I miss homegroup as much as possible, then don't bring notes, deliberately flout his rules and leave homegroup to stand outside in the cool air; I don't listen as he reads out the daily notices, and bring in drinks that aren't water to drink in class, very against him. I talk when he talks, and, basically, am pretty obvious in my dislike of him. No one who tried to replace our homegroup teacher of the last four years was going to be received well by anyone, and I think he can tell.
I have to study for a Maths test and the parentals are home. My sister is making me Easy Mac since I find it too hard. I kid you not. I cannot make it. It doesn't work. Don't ask. I don't know.
Monday, March 16, 2009
I don't want to be real anymore.
That was the thought running through my head for almost half of today so far. In case you didn't realise from the time stamps on my last two posts, I didn't sleep much last night. Nor the night before, to be honest. I've filled my body with so much caffeine today, and oh, you can tell. I had coffee, and I don't even know how many No-Doz, which are caffeine tablets. At first I was just upset and generally wanted to cut, but that might have happened anyway, who knows. Then I grew really clingy and tired but not sleepy. And then I went weird like I never have before. And it was really scary.
I have never felt so anti social in my life. The people around, anyone close made me feel sick with revulsion; I couldn't bear being near anyone. This was during lunch and I couldn't even take feeling my own body, I couldn't put my hands on my legs while I was sitting down and I avoided contact with anything as much as possible to avoid any feeling of physicality. I was so freaked out, went pretty much into auto pilot mode, blanked out from everything as much as possible; and then I started crying in between, switching between the two over and over.
I don't even think this was just the caffeine.
I'm really behind in quite a few subjects at school, honestly. My biology teacher thinks I should be looking at leaving school and working, etc.
On my way home I calmed down a bit and now I can actually think, and thank god. I never want to do that again. And I really think I can still do this. I can catch up on school work and do okay, at least. I have to.
So I'm going to be being as healthy as I can from now on, and sleep at nights, and actually eat healthy and adequate amounts. Maybe even eat breakfast. I'll probably miss NCIS episodes if it is necessary, in order for me to get schoolwork done. I can always catch up on them later, on Surfthechannel.com When my body can actually handle it again, I'll get up early and go for runs in the morning. I'm not going to do much else besides school work till I have caught up. So I probably won't write much here for a while. If you see posts from me, feel free to virtual slap me, yeah?
And I think, for a while, I'll be avoiding caffeine.
Update (7.28PM): I know, I know. I just, hate it when people don't reply to text messages and I know it's not because they're out of credit. And now I'm getting paranoid. In this instance, I think I even have the right to be worried. Toivoa potentially screws up things once again. Hurray.
You know when you stay up late and you get the munchies? Cravings for something specific, too, and not just a random food group, like chocolate, chips or noodles... Well I just went through a lot of Doritos. And thank god we had Doritos because otherwise I would be sitting here rocking back and forth muttering to myself. Which, I mean, isn't that uncommon for me, but still. (It is uncommon for me. Really)
You may or may not know this, but my parents are Indian. I was born and grew up in Australia and god forbid that you ever should call me Indian because I will hurt you; but I say that I have Indian heritage or some crap coz I get technical about shit like that. There was this one time my best friend used this to prove a point she was making to her boyfriend; that he couldn't be Greek or half Greek with his one Greek parent (or maybe both his parents were Greek, it's been a long time and I forget) because he was born in Australia and since I wasn't Indian, by the same reasoning he wasn't Greek. It went something like that, I think.
Anyway, where was I? Doritos are good. No, I was past that. Ah. Not to be racist but I'm not keen on Indians. I do not like Indians. Okay, it's not that I don't like Indians. I just avoid contact with them (I'm really not helping my cause, am I?)... Apart from my family, a few people at my church, and Jimit, I don't know no Indians here (Thank god). It's not that I have a problem with Indians. I just don't want people to think I'm trying to start Little India here or something. When people move to another country, I think its important to try and participate in the country's lifestyle, culture, all that jazz. It really pisses me off when people move to another country and want to keep living as though they're in the country they just left. By this I mean countries which are notably different to each other. For example, India --> Australia.
It's all well and good to keep in touch with your own culture, hang out with people who understand come from the same place, keep the memories and stories alive. All that. But at least try to immerse yourself in this new place, or what is the point of moving? I even got angry at Daniel Brown for saying that he only became an Australian citizen because it was convenient, and told him to get the hell back to England. Okay, who am I kidding, I just like to argue with Daniel Brown. But, still.
I had a point (this happens far too often).
So when I became friends with Jimit I was all weird about it because, well, he was Indian. And I didn't want people to think I was like Daniel Brown, that is if he was Indian and female and awesome ;D but ungrateful for living in one of the most awesome countries ever (not that I'm biased or anything). I mean, in the respect that I just wanted to recreate India here in Adelaide and only hang with the other Indians. Even though I'm not Indian, but having Indian parents and all, I look Indian. But apparently not that Indian. I think whoever it was who didn't realise I was of Indian ethnicity was perhaps slightly blind, but I wasn't about to complain.
Oh, and I should probably be nicer to Daniel Brown, he occasionally lends me pens and money and goes on Maccas runs for us at lunch times...
Or I could just keep going the way I am and find some other hapless soul to borrow and extort from. It's not that hard. Apparently I look somewhat trustworthy. And I do pay people back. It just doesn't always happen as soon as possible. Hold me to this - Alex, I will return your five dollars, before the end of this year.
Besides, his name is Daniel Brown. He's one of those people, the ones whose first name can't be said on its own. He is simply Daniel Brown. Not Daniel, never Brown, occasionally Brown Daniel (one of the hang ups of having a colour / adjective for a last name); but either way his first and last name cannot be separated. Does he have a middle name? I don't know. It matters not. He is Daniel Brown. I dare you to call him only by Daniel.
It feels wrong.
Ahem. So, Jimit. After being friends, we went through the whole "friends who also hook up just coz" thing. When I actually began to like him, I got very mad at myself. My one rule was "never get with an Indian". Okay I'm sure I have a few other rules but that was probably the only one I had distinctly thought out.
I justified it, though, because he had been here pretty much his whole life, had no accent (which would have been a major problem), definitely didn't think like an Indian (again, maaaajor problem that would have been), and yeah that's pretty much it. Oh and we'd had the same "never get with an Indian" rule. So we both broke that. After the "dating unofficially and half secretly" stage, we're now just back to being normal friends. Although to be honest we never really had that before.
I think you get my point. I go out of my way to avoid Indians. You probably got that within my first paragraph on this topic, after the whole Doritos thing. I'm aware that was completely pointless. What can I say? I do completely pointless well. (Yes, it is something to be proud of) (:
Hopefully you actually stayed with me this long. Because, besides the few I mentioned I like, and Russell Peters since he's funny (strange, him being a comedian and all), I have now found another Indian person who I wouldn't mind affiliating with. I'm pretty sure "affiliating" is something along the lines of "associating" so if I got that incredibly wrong and implied something I didn't mean to, yeah, just go with associating and pretend I'm right.
This Indian blogs, and he is awesome. Yes, I said it. I don't know why. But unlike me, he is "down with brown". I quote. But hey, I'm not racist. Really!
Anyway go check him out at Your Beard is Good. I don't really get the name either... But through my extensive research (read: extensive reading of blogs in order to procrastinate), I believe it might be something to do with The Office... Regardless. He's funny. You'll laugh. It's good. So go. (:
Well that was a traumatic phone call.
I don't want to even think about half of that conversation ever again.
I'm so uncomfortable with talking about certain things.
Although I suppose, everyone has their "taboo" topics.
I wasn't doing so great before that conversation and now I'm somewhat worse.
It was just uncomfortable and delved into stuff I do not ever want to talk about, and other stuff that I'm not ready to talk about yet. At least while sober.
And really, with all the shit that's happened every time, I should stop fucking drinking.
But I won't. Why?
I don't know why!
I need to attempt some homework. Caffeine dosage upcoming.
Only thing I can say is that I'm so grateful for seeing Justin on Sunday evening at church. That makes everything better. And I can't wait till we hang out.
I'm so sick of having no one to talk to about serious shit. I'm so sick of people not letting me know what I'm doing is stupid, in a nice way where I'll actually take it on board. I'm really, really over being stuck with myself constantly and having to carry this stuff around.
I hate the flashbacks of memory. Any memory. Every memory. And then especially those memories. I want to remove them. Anyone know if there's a delete button?
I may even start almost completely over. I don't want to keep remembering what I did, with this different, normal perspective. How I usually look at the world. I want to forget.
I'd forget you, and you, and you and you and you, and that night, and that night, and that time;
I'd definitely forget that. Was it my fault, or yours? A bit of both, I'd say. I wish I could say it was yours entirely. I really do. I lost much of my slowly building self respect there. And I wish that someone could say it wasn't my fault and that such a statement would be true. I wish that I could take it back take it back back back.
I hatehatehate that I did that. I hate how I'll never have a second chance. Nothing can change that.
(Although, I'll admit, if it would have fixed things with my friends in some crazy way, I'd do the same thing again. A thousand times over, not that it's quite possible. But as close as I could get.)
And as for you, well, I think I'd keep those memories. I don't want to forget that, forget you, or what you meant; or how special that was. I wouldn't forget you either, or you. Or you. I'd keep those memories, bittersweet as they are except for those with the last one of you.
Everything else, I think I would forget.
I've never been so full of regrets.
UPDATE (1:43AM) - And if I had the energy or the desire to try to protect myself, I'd be curled in a ball with my arms around my head. But how does one fight when the enemy is already inside?
The more I try to stop it, the faster the images come, flashes here and gone; in a cycle that can't stop, won't stop. And each time it's worse.
And I'd give myself to you in any way possible so that I exist no longer as my own self, but rather something for someone else. How do I explain that concept? If I was no longer a physical being, but rather, just a presence, something like a spirit who just filled the gaps in those who needed it and who I once loved; that would be easier. The responsibility of living sometimes feels like too much (that's now).
I don't want to be freefalling, I'd rather be drifting, emotionless.
I'll put my life on hold permanently; do you see it up on that shelf? Till I'm more faded than the words that I once wrote; I'll love you always, forever.
I'm barely aware of what I'm saying, can you tell?
Living takes an effort that sometimes I can't find, and I'm scrawling down these senseless words hoping that somehow I'll find my mind.
Wow, that rhymed.
EDIT (2.16AM): All I want right now is a coffee I can drown my thoughts in.
i want to help but i don't know how
and i hatehatehate myself for that
it's not just that i'm scared of hurting you
it's that i can't help even when it's not my fault
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Why, why, why, does such a depressing song have such a misleading title? "Happy Ending", by Mika, I mean. Mika's songs, for the most part, seem to be overly bright and cheerful (or at least annoying beyond belief e.g. Lollipop). Case in point - Love Today. Not that I listen to Mika. Much.
I fell in love with this song the first time I heard it, and I still am. But come on, I listen to enough "emo", and depressing music as it is. Really.
The music to Happy Ending even sounds pretty chill. Not necessarily upbeat, but peaceful, relaxing. It's the lyrics that bring it down. Way down. I actually almost feel like crying every time I hear this song. But I still love it, damnit. I understand when I associate songs with memories that were good and now, circumstances having changed, make me sad and nostalgic. Or songs which I can identify with about bad / sad things. But this song is just gloomy and makes me sad. For no reason. And yet, I can't stop listening to it. On repeat. Far too regularly, too. Sigh.
As such, for the moment I'm rather pensive. Bear with me.
Tomorrow is Sunday. A morning filled with church, while I do my best to pay attention. I haven't had to try as hard to keep myself awake during the service so much lately; perhaps my naps during English Studies are taking care of that. Not that I'm too fussed about missing out on the worship. I need to try and find out what the music is for the second service, since I am supposed to be playing. I'm as highly enthused about that task as ever. Afternoon has been delegated with homework, since I neglected that terribly today. Year Twelve is going fantastically so far [/sarcasm].
Late afternoon is back to church for Bible Study. fjlkdjgpkfldjgflfd. Keyboard mashing actually is a very good way of expression emotions of frustration, anger, or distress. So over Bible Study. I don't care! Then, maybe to another church for their evening service so I can hang out with some of my friends from that week of community service I did towards the end of the Christmas Holidays. Speaking of which, I cannot wait to donate blood again! There's still another month and a half to go, but.
Oh and of course I'm heaps keen to actually be present for the service there and all...
Actually, I kinda am (no sarcasm here). Really.
I was talking to Nick on Thursday, or Friday, or something, if you recall those panicky moments I had. He told me something which I had forgotten. If I really believe that those friendships are so worth it, if I'm not willing to let them just go like this, then I should talk to the friends in question. He reminded me that I need to actively do something about it. But I have no idea what I could say. And I've been so scared since the one time I did try to talk to them. And yes, that is a link to a friend's blog, and it probably doesn't make all that much sense; half the post is about something else. And she wasn't there for the rest of it. I couldn't write about it myself, and I still don't really want to revisit it, so if you want a slightly clearer picture of what happened, you'll have to make do with that. Not that anything when it comes to Kate could ever be just "making do". (:
Anyhow, when I said "scared", I meant in the sense that it would go wrong. Again. And I'm scared of knowing for sure that they are content with leaving it this way. When that feels so incredibly, undeniably wrong to me.
I'm in a rambly mood. A purposely rambly, unlike most other times when I attempt to write about something and go off on several tangents, and tangents of tangents.
Hmmm, what else? I'm behind in a few of my subjects. Yes, I know. I wasn't going to do that this year. This was my chance for a new start and, seven weeks in, I'm fucking it up already. I'll fix this, I swear. In the meantime, my parents aren't very happy, at all. In that extremely unhelpful way they are so good at using.
I miss the days when I would stay up till 4 and even 5AM, aided by insane amounts of coffee, just to get homework done at the last moment. Because then, at least I was getting it done, on time.
My mum also is convinced that I have resumed hurting myself, by burning myself. With my hair straightener. On my neck. Even I am not that retarded! Of course, I'm not really willing to tell her that no, that's a hickey. That would be much more awkward. So her only other option is that I burnt my neck by accident, but I vehemently denied that it was anything when she first saw and asked by it. Way to cover up, Toivoa. That would be why I need my stories preplanned and all ready to go. I didn't even consider an accidental burn, although that has happened before. Oops.
So I've the rest of this dreary weekend to get through, with only the thought of a four dollar Mocha on Monday and a possible Macca's run at lunch time to spur me onward...
Well, now that I think about it, that's definitely motivation enough.
I haven't had a Macca's Filet o' Fish burger since I lived in New Zealand when I was around six, and just personally, I'm keen to keep it that way. All the same, the ad below is making me crave some of that greasy food, any of it, from that place with the golden arches we love so much... Okay, maybe nothing with the new seared chicken. >.< Or the apple slices that are a choice in Happy Meals. Come on, we do not go to Macca's for healthy food,and especially not apple slices!
McD's --> grease grease grease. Golden fries dripping in grease. Burgers with melted plastic cheese and meat patties we learn not to look at, for our own sakes. Food that is so bad it cannot be anything but great. Don't try to understand it. Just embrace it. After all, Macca's is what our inner children know we need. And our inner child knows best.
We are the fattest nation in the world, and if I contribute to that by my consumption of McDonald's, I gotta tell you, I can deal with that.
P.S. This ad is addictive (kinda like Macca's). I can't stop watching it, and the fish song is in my head... You have been warned.
UPDATE: My sister now can't stop singing it either. ;D
Friday, March 13, 2009
Just putting it out there (I'm a lot calmer right now, than I was before. But still) -
I never thought it was possible to miss anyone this much while they were still alive.
I never thought I'd need to miss the people in question, in this way.
I never thought there would be a time when I would see them and not talk to them, not smile and be happy to see them, not call out to them.
I never ever thought that such a day could come. And I never ever ever thought it could last.
This began on the 10th of September, 2008. That's six months, people. Tell me there is an end date for this nightmare. I'm not exaggerating, that's what it is, to me.
Although, I know I don't get to wake up. This is reality, and let's face it, reality is shit.
I hope you guys are as happy as you seem to be, but I gotta admit, I really, really hope that you miss me just a little too, every so often. Please tell me that it meant as much to you as it did, and does, to me.
And, although I talk about him more, which is why he was dubbed the "ex best friend", and also because I've given up any hope of reconciliation, to be honest the others are the ones who matter more. Because that was there before him, and it was meant to last after, as well.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
I'm in such a panicked mood right now.
Thank god for Nick.
Seriously. Best friend ftw.
I pick my best friends well.
Even when things go shit, they were still great friends, and for the most part, continue to be so to other people.
Yay for Nick, (:
Okay, I've been having mad crazy mood swings again lately, a lot. As bad as before I was diagnosed with Vitamin D (and that other thing I don't know) deficiency. But my pills have been bought once more (I ran out), so hopefully that will fix that, and the constant tiredness resulting in lack of schoolwork being done (VERY BAD for year 12), and limit long naps and general sleeping time; not to mention falling asleep in class (only in English, I swear I fall asleep easier there than at home in bed at night).
That said, my continuous caffeine dosage daily (I think I've said this before, but damn I love the Mocha's from the local cafe) is, I think, also wreaking havoc with my system. Yes, that system overloaded with unhealthy food, unhealthy amounts of food, and severely lacking in exercise. I suppose those are a few things that are worth a mention. My mother certainly thinks they're worth several mentions, several times an evening...
But, today, I went for a jog with my sister. When the parentals left to go buy my tablets (my mother insisted on buying in bulk from some far away place in order to save a few dollars in price), I seized the moment to ask her to come with me. I would have done so ages before, because personally, I like running, and I know I'm way unfit yada yada, so I figure, may as well. And since my sister is way too obsessed with her figure and wanting to be thin (don't even get me started :( ), she's all into jogging and exercise of nearly every kind. I go out of my way to avoid anything that could be considered exercise. Largely because of my mum, but more on that another time.
Anyway, the jog was fun. Not necessarily fun, but invigorating. Not long, but still. A start, no? My mum would be pleased, which is why she will never know. Like I said, more on that another time. Although, come to think of it, her response would more likely be along the lines of, "It's good to see you showing some interest. Now do it more often." Grrr.
But, to the point of this post.
I really like Chris. He likes me. Is that not enough?
I've been fucked over more than I realised until this last week, and even that last post, by the friends thing. I've weakened my other friendships at school in response because, honestly, I was hurt, and I didn't want friendships that weren't with them; I didn't want any replacement; and the reason my friendship with Lynley has flourished is because she wasn't connected to any of that, although she was friends with the ex best friend. She was a grade below and as such, that separated her. My other friends, although they aren't close friends with my best friends, can still talk to them and laugh with them and spend time with them and, really, honestly, I'm jealous. Because I can't even do that, and that hurts, a lot.
Other friendships I've made since then have also been good, refreshing, with no connection. And I strengthened ties with my friends from primary school; one in particular, because they had always been there and I needed someone who was distanced from the situation, physically as well.
I still feel like I could break apart sometimes, at just one word, one movement. And apart from Lynley and my friend from primary school, I haven't let myself become close to anyone. Plus, I find it very hard to trust guys when it gets into any situation of more than friends.
I'm trying to mend myself, and let myself mend. School isn't helping. Seeing them everyday is really not helping. There are a lot of things that aren't helping, I suppose. Take my mum, take the fact that I am far too sensitive to most things.
Can you please for the love of god let me have this one thing??? Untainted??? I can barely take your comments and your opinions on my being with Chris, and does it really matter? He is nice. Really nice. I don't like the majority of his friends, but fuck it, I don't like him for his friends. I like him for him. And whatever your own opinion of him, whatever reason you may disapprove, he is making me happy. He is helping, when so much else isn't.
And I'm over caring what everyone else thinks about it.
Please, please don't ruin this for me. I don't think I can bear one more thing going wrong.
EDIT: [9.48PM] I think I'm definitely going to kill myself. But not. Wow. I can't even explain how scared I am right now. Because.
You know what, I'm not even going to explain.
Because I don't even think I can.
But. My blog may shortly return to private.
but not really.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
I am so freaked out right now. I was looking at followers and was checking out the blog of one of my newest followers. Remember the best friends I used to write about a lot? (And trust me I still think about them so much) Well from reading her blog and seeing her followers in turn, this girl is the best friend of one of those; they'd been friends since primary school. I don't know if she found my blog through following those others of us from my school, or if its because we have some similar favourite movies and the like, or how, but I'm majorly freaked out at the moment, because my friend is following her blog, and if she finds mine...
Let's just say I don't really want that.
I would give anything to reconcile this shit. Hell, if I knew if there was anything I could do to fix this, I would. But I don't have any fucking idea and do you know how fucking long it has been now??? Almost seven months. Seven months in which I have thought of them every day, and known I couldn't talk to them. No, I talked to each of them in person once, just a few lines of exchange, on the last day of school last year.
But, I don't know what to do. I don't know if anything can fix it. I don't think they care, or miss me at all. Do you know how much that hurts???
I've been refraining about writing about this on here because its what makes up most of the content of the first three months of this blog, but everyday when I see them at school, when I think of the time I could be spending with them in the lessons and frees we have together, do you know what that does to me???
I think, I'm okay. Like I said, I'm getting better. But not so much that it doesn't hurt. I don't know why I'm freaking out so badly about this. But things are building up again. Someone I love more than anything is struggling with her urges to force herself to throw up, again. She was past that. Like I'm past cutting, right? She tried the other day though, but couldn't. She was "out of practice". Why the hell should anyone even be in practice for something like that??? It's breaking my heart, because I want to help her so much, but I have to stand by and try to convince her not to, but knowing that whatever I or anyone else says, it may not be enough. I can only hope that she gets past this, but I cannot do anything.
I'm sick of not being able to do anything, or knowing what to do, to make things okay.
And I'd go back in time if I could, to that last day we spent together, although the ex best friend (who, by the way, has gone back to not talking to me at all; I don't fucking understand him) wasn't there and that in itself made me cry, just a little. It was a good day. And I still don't understand how I fucked the best thing in my life up so badly.
If I understood it, maybe that would make it better. Maybe not. But I don't know. I don't get it at all.
I didn't realise how good a job I'd done of suppressing this till now. Which is obviously how I've been able to keep going.
I need to go.
EDIT: [10.06PM] I'm slightly less agitated, watched my favourite TV show, and with that distraction and the passing of time, I may be able to sleep before 1AM. Fingers crossed. Although I need to do homework so actually, forget that. Let's go with 3AM and a truckload of coffee tomorrow in the morning. Damn I love the coffees at our local cafe. I swear, they get me through life.
In other news, I have this huge hickey on my neck that is kinda too far over to properly cover with my hair. I need to be really careful for the next week or so, especially around home. Chris came over this morning before our excursion and we just hung out (and made out) and I accidentally leaned on the part of the computer desk that slides out, on which the keyboard sits, while we were watching music videos on YouTube, and broke it. Said desk is only about two months old. The line on which it runs is mangled and I can't fix it. My dad, when he finds out, will kill me, because it doesn't move properly anymore. Needless to say though, it was quite funny. And typical of my accidental destruction of everything. You love it. And me too, of course. (And I still hope that won't change because I need you a lot more than you'll ever realise.)
Monday, March 9, 2009
but I think I like it anyway.
I really like Chris. He needs a blog name, no?
Right now I'm not going to think about how he has to go away sometime this year for his marine technician training or whatever the fuck, I don't understand the specifics. I'll ask him about it shortly. It may be soon, or it may not, but for now I am going to be happy that he is here and we are together and he likes me, and be content with every moment I do get to spend with him. And I won't be selfish and cry when he does leave, I'll keep missing him to myself and, you know, all the complaining to friends I am sure to do, since actually keeping anything entirely to myself is something it seems I am utterly incapable of doing...
And, I know most people these days despise smoking. But, I love fire. Almost as much as I love the sea. And it's not hard for me to go from loving smoke from an ordinary fire to that of a cigarette. Yes. I know. I'm insane.
He smokes, which I only found out on Friday night. Only occasionally, so I'm definitely not complaining.
P.S. I'm fucking weird when I'm drunk. But I really don't care. It's a lot better than when I go into "crying drunk" mode. I spent a whole night completely inebriated without even remotely wanting to call the ex best friend. That worries me, but makes me happy. I don't want to stop wanting him back.
P.P.S. I listened to "Rise Above This" by Seether for the first time today since the ex best friend became just that. It was my absolute all time favourite song, it encouraged me like nothing else, especially the music video for it. I love it. It was connected to him far too much for me to listen to it, and I didn't want to want to be better, so I've avoided it like the plague. But today, I was finally ready to listen to it again. I started crying, but it was good. The music video has always made me cry. Again, though, I don't want to need him less. Hmmm.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Or perhaps, Signs of a Journey.
I've been considering my scars, again. The main ones run the length of my arm, on the pale flesh of my forearm, on the right side. In certain lights, at certain angles, the thinnest, thread-like scars, barely visible, further to the left than any of the others, can be seen.
I have burn scars on my shin, on both of my hands, and scars from cuts from my hips up over my stomach up to where my bra ends, as well as on my leg, but it is these scars on my arm that best represent, to me, the time of my self-harm.
I hate that term; "self-harm". It speaks nothing of the emotional intensity of the action, the convoluted depths of such a thing, but simplifies it to a point of such insignificance that I feel utterly ridiculous in saying that I once engaged in it. There's so much more.
I have approximately fifty-seven scars due to self-inflicted wounds. In those times, I'd been told that I would regret this later, this thing I was doing, if only for the scars that would be left. But even then, I knew this could not be so. They were a part of me, they were a sign of something. They symbolised something for me, a time, an emotion, a reflection of who I was at those moments. They told a sort of story, screamed something important and in need of remembrance, like any good tattoo. Scars have always fascinated me, on any person. They testify to something, and like as not, there are interesting stories attached; of childhood misadventure and impulsive attempts, of tragedy. These scars of mine are my sign of my self value and a time of darkness I went through, my "marks of madness", faded now, but still present, lingering. A madness that rears its head every so often, raging against its imprisonment, its abandonment in change for better things, a better way; beguiling and tempting, alluring. Desperate for a comeback.
My scars still itch and hurt occasionally, just a little. I take comfort from this, for this means that they are still healing; they will fade yet more in time, just as I am healing. It is a slow process, but I am learning my own value and it is an amazing, astounding thing. How do I explain just how I revel in this ongoing discovery that I am worth so much and have so much to give? It brings me to silence at times. I am loved and, more than that, I am loved for a reason. This love from others no longer bewilders me quite so much. There is a reason for my life; I am not just some sort of mistake on God's part, some mishap that defies my view of God's perfection, which struggles with my belief of every single person’s value. My friends are amazing and not somehow deluded, somehow believing a massive lie that I am actually worthy of their love. Are any of us worthy of love? Let’s face it; we’re all pretty fucked up, in some way. The wonder of it all is that in spite of this, we are loved. It is in being loved that we become worthy of it. On our own, I do not think that many of us are deserving of being loved. Really. But we are loved. And that makes us worthy of it, for it is so. What a confusing concept, but I believe it, and I love what it means.
I began to ramble, didn’t I? It was bound to happen.
I love how my scars signify the self hatred that was once there. For, in that they are scars, that they are not fresh injuries, not growing in number, they are a sign of my growing beyond that, to embracing something brighter, something, as I said, that is better. Far better. They are a sign that what was once all too present, overshadowing, is now in the past. It doesn’t attempt to hide what has been, but shows forth the reality that this thing, this time did exist. It acknowledges that, but points to something else. A new chapter.
It is worth remembering, where I was in contrast to where I have reached, and I can look back to that past self and tell her that she was right, that this was merely a storm which would pass, that she would get through it and emerge stronger for it, that that faint spark in the darkness was really a light shining, sunlight that she would reach.
My scars tell a story, that what I felt was real and true and it shouldn’t be played down; it was big and it mattered and it is something that will remain a part of me, but in a good way, for I’ve learned from it all. And I love that.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Postscript for my earlier ramblings today.
Quite simply, my sister is my reason as to why I won't cut. I will not allow myself to. If not for my sake, for hers.
She is my only, younger sister; and while she does not self-harm, she struggles with other things. How can I plead with her to refrain when I put forth such a bad example, whether she knows it or not?
When I long for her to not do this terrible thing, knowing that others feel the same way about me, how can that be justified, how can I expect her to listen? And even if she does, how I can I live with such double standards?
No. I am stronger than this. And I am definitely stronger for her. I cannot be selfish about this. I will not.
Life is worth more than this. My life is worth more than this. I'm going to bend, but I am not going to break.
This IS war.
And I'll be damned if I let you win.
"I will not let it in, I will not succumb to your sweetness. I will not be betrayed by the kiss of a blade by the liquid that gives to take and I, I will not swallow those lies that sit on my plate. Brake. Shatter. Collide and fall."
Thank you for bearing through my time of weakness. But there is hope. It's here and it's real, and this is worth it. Life isn't easy. But we are stronger than we think, and we have each other. We have hope. And "hope is not a myth".
sixty times before I'd kick the habit."
I was all set. I had my blog post planned out, title and everything. "Back in the game". And the body would simply be a picture. The cleaned up post-shot, not the one taken as blood streamed, unchecked. Startlingly, vibrantly red, forming lines that merged into one another and flowed, something unspeakably, inexplicably beautiful and peaceful in its deliberate, premeditated violence.
I had the area in mind. It would be simple and clean, just one. Or option two; a crazy release, but carefully controlled. But preferably the first option, just one cut, down the back of my leg. Inconspicuous. Excuse - Scraped against a tree.
I don't know what triggered it today. It was worse for that, and to be honest, it holds me in its grip as I write.
The other day, in Biology, I got cravings. But that was understandable, you know? We were doing a practical that involved slicing up liver of some animal. I was the one cutting it up. The scalpel blade and leftover headache from the morning, as well as feelings of dizziness, lead to my high susceptibility to cravings. Holding that blade, imagining it all clearly. I had to leave for a few minutes to clear my head.
Here, there was nothing. No trigger. Today is my mum's birthday and all that caused me to determine is to make dead sure she didn't find out. That wasn't enough to stop me. Haven't I caused her enough pain?
It was a wild tumble of emotions; missing my best friends, fond remembrances of times with them, upset at how much other people's opinions influenced my actions, at how my "brother (who isn't by blood but we count each other as siblings" obviously disapproves of my being with Chris; terrified that Chris will decide to join the army full time within a few weeks, and not next year, and if full time, would be gone for 18 months; and missing everyone I hadn't spent much time with lately. Tired and unable to stand against the turbulence of all this, I just wanted to do it. I half tried to believe "just once", just one more; because the last time wasn't much of a send off, although the depth of the scar would beg to differ. It would be nice to do it properly, end that part of my life well.
It was a lie, I knew that. If I did it "this once", it would be my chance to return to it. And I had been nine months and two days (longer than "pregnant time"). At the time though, it didn't matter much.
The faster we're falling,
We're stopping and stalling.
We're running in circles again...
Cause I'm in too deep, and I'm trying to keep,
Up above in my head, instead of going under."
I'm okay and I can make this, but only if I want. And sometimes I just want to cut.
sometimes it wouldn't feel like giving in. It would feel like satisfaction. Like what I want.
"And you might say it's self-indulgent
And you might say it's self-destructive
But, you see, it's more productive
Than if i were to be happy"
It's a lie, I know. It's the need and the addiction clothed in something else, disguised as something better. Not done to stop the other pain, to release. But underneath the reasons are still there, still the same.
I'm clinging to this;
"I am not a pretty picture.
I am not a project or something for you to fix. I am a beautiful mistake, I am a mess, I am tragedy I am fairytales. I am a story, as are you, and with every line across my wrist I was screaming and with every tear that I shed I am praying for me and you and "them" and us. We are not alone we are in this together and I am on my face tonight. And darkness screams behind the door, it is begging, fighting to get in.
THIS IS WAR.
And I will not let it in, I will not sucuumb to your sweetness. I will not be betrayed by the kiss of a blade by the liquid that gives to take and I, I will not swallow those lies that sit on my plate. Brake. Shatter. Collide and fall. Pretty poison. I used to think I should come with a warning lable, I thought I destroyed everything that I touched and now, now I see, now I know it was not me it was the Hole it was the monster that came in and wrecked everything I know...and love...and love and hope would not let me go. And love and hope grew arms to reach me when I was running and wrap me snug in a hug that my heart had longed for oh so long. And love and hope in stars and hearts on my back on my arms and in my heart as mine, for me to give to you and that is what the pain was for. And that was worth it all, and more."
but I'm inclined to let go and jump back into the abyss. And do so gladly. Not falling, screaming, hating myself for this weak lapse. But with delight, like meeting an old friend again after a long time apart.
Bring me to my senses.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
What is up with noodles these days? Yes, I did a noodle post not all that long ago, but come on people! The issues that noodles bring are endless. Let's consider my current problem.
I am, as I type, in the process of trying to enjoy eating two minute cup noodles, in a "super big" and "mega" size. 100 grams, in fact. These super-sized noodle cups can be a great source of messy delight, but when in a flavour called "Smokin' ribs"? Even before opening it, smelling it, let alone eating these noodles; that flavour does not bode well for your tastebuds. It was sitting on the kitchen bench top as I arrived home, and I was invited by my mum to eat it, which I gladly went to do. Until I saw the flavour.
Just for a start, the apostrophe replacing the simple "g" implies a "tryhard-ness". Is it really that hard to say "Smoking"? Really? I know, Australians are lazy with grammar, spelling, and the like. But, even we are not necessarily that slack. So what are they trying to compensate for..?
And for the love of god, what has happened to the simple flavours we grew up with, beef, chicken, oriental; and those more daring, like chicken and mushroom? I know I've missed something major, forgive me.
Thankfully, we have not lost these classics
yet (touch wood), but the influx of new, fancy flavours on the market, and not just among noodles, is something that disturbs and irritates me. We have enough choices to make in life already. Why make it harder for us who only want easy, quick foods? Is not my generation indecisive enough already??? I dread the thought of what today's toddlers will grow up to be like...
And as for McDonald's... Happy Meals used to be simple. You decided between chicken nuggets and a cheeseburger, the flavour of soft drink, and possibly the toy. And now. SO MANY CHOICES. There's the orange juice, soft drink, apple juice, and whatever other options there are for a drink; and then there are choices of apple pieces and God only knows what. It saddens my heart, my wonderful mega fast food chains who destroy people's livelihoods and nature and most things to bring us those lovely greasy fries, so well symbolised by your hallowed golden arches. Please consider slightly more. We do not come to you for healthy options. That we go to Subway for. And while Hungry Jacks and KFC also have their hold on us, nothing compares to Macca's with your beef patties that are best eaten without being seen.
I think it is now time for me to quote some lines from one of my favourite (and possibly one of the most random) books ever,
"I am Ronald,
the Mage, the
Taste the scorched fruit
inside my pies.
Chew the bitter towelette
Die, you seedy little elves
who refuse to accept any
new menu items added
I scorch your loins with
coffee that sears like a
molten steel patty
I smash your bones on
rocks of ice churned by
spews of cola.
I till your soil, steal your
their skins, cook
them in tallow
and tell you
I shall castrate your
bulls, rendering them more
juicy and docile,
and I shall salt them with
hormones, making them
You shall wander the
wastelands in search of fishwiches fallen from
the sky, frozen and plump
with weevils and sauce
of fiercest tartar.
My face is stripped of
staring at the sun,
balloons and a helium
canister that will never
You ears shall hear only
the sound of a french-fry
computer that beeps
You shall remain forever
parched with a
You, my imprisoned
sprite servants, I shall
deprive of both minimum
wage and nutrients.
My cooker writhes
with yellow frybabies
your lips shall
I shall pierce your being
with shakes made of
ground bones, nay,
You shall beg for death,
but instead shall receive
only laughter and
disguised as plastic toys.
In my costume of yellow
bib and coarse
enormous red feet, I will
smite you with burgers
laced with thorns.
Inside your bird nuggets
you will find razor
blades, rats and tumours.
The only real clown is a dead clown.
I ONLY MAKE YOU FAT SO THAT YOU'LL SIZZLE WHEN YOU BURN"
As you can see, it's incredibly strange. The book, "JPod" by Douglas Coupland, is obviously not everyone's cup of tea, but it is something I find highly amusing.
Anyway, apart from my divergance onto my inexplicable love for McDonald's, something that seems to afflict many teenagers; my original point is that weird flavours are a no-no for me.
My noodles taste terrible. Sigh.
And society complicates far too much.
Monday, March 2, 2009
self, all those who would be poets
I'm no, uh, Edgar Allan Poe [insert any great poets name in here because I'm having a mind blank], nor any type of poet at all, but I feel that I need to put this out there.
Using long complicated words and intricate writing patterns to speak in the most abstract way possible does not necessarily make your piece of writing poetry. Or at least, good poetry.
Writing poetry is not my forte, it is not something I can do well. I accept this. But perhaps others also need to comes to this realisation about themselves.
Wow, that was bitchy.
To spread some love, why don't you check out Car Crash Hearts, whose poetry I do actually enjoy. (:
P.S. I know I've barely posted lately, and I do have my meeting Jamie of To Write Love On Her Arms [link at bottom of this page] to blog about; as well as numerous other things, but I have not been able to string words together, neither for school nor here. Wish me luck with that. (: