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.