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Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Interruption of Regular Programming

I was in the middle of writing a huge post via the dodgy internet on my dad's phone since I hadn't been on a computer all day, which is truly something rare for me (which is pathetic), when it did this crazy thing it sometimes does. I'm elaborate like that. So, by mistake, as a reflex, I hit the wrong key, and with a flash of smoke and all that, my wonderful post was gone.

So forgive me, I'll be back with regular computer tomorrow sometime as I'm too disheartened and demoralised (and pissed off) to try to write anything more, let alone rewrite that post.

Night xx


Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Oh hai, I hate Twilight.

I really do.

Today was uncomfortable. A room shared with the ex best friend for fourty-five minutes, occasional furtive glances and a few times seeing his. If he is in the room, I can't help but look at him. I'm almost hyper-aware of his presence, and although it's reached the point where I can actually concentrate on what I'm doing, upon first realisation I still lose my train of thought completely. It's not much better with the other two. But I digress. This post wasn't to be about that. [I need to learn to keep it to myself. I can't continue to complain. But Sacha, I miss you.]
I'm getting solid B grades for returning pieces of work, but I'm a little worried about my major English assignment for the year. It consists of a comparison between two novels, involving close analysis of each. My first book, is Breath by Tim Winton. It's an average - good novel, and I love Winton's writing style, although the subject matter isn't all that great for the majority of the text, to my mind. Our English teacher had told us when we initially chose our first book to not worry about thinking about the second at all, at the time. She's helping most other students pick their second text now and there isn't much time to decide. The problem is that I cannot think of a second book to pair mine with, and as it is a relatively recently published novel, my teacher hasn't read it as yet, even though she owns a copy. She tells me she doesn't think she can just quickly read a Tim Winton novel, well I say get off your ass and freaking do it, you can skim if needs be, just get a general idea and help me because you said it was a good idea when I first chose Breath and I do not want to fail because of you!

However, when it comes to other subjects, I'm not satisfied with B's, particularly when it comes to Classical Studies. Classical Studies and English are what I am good at, as literary subjects, and 75% for an essay is not something I'm happy with. I know I didn't "explore" the different forms of love shown in The Odyssey enough, but I didn't know how to, and frankly, my teacher did not make it clear throughout his repeated explanations. There were multiple questions or statements we could choose from about The Odyssey, and I almost changed mine and rewrote the entire the night before it was due. I refrained, thankfully.

My essay was originally almost 500 words over the maximum amount, so cutting that down probably reduced its quality also. But talking about school work is boring. I have been told that I write well, etc. by teachers so that is half encouraging.

Uh, I got distracted finding people who agree with me that Twilight sucks more than anything else on earth, apart from Twilight fan fics. And now I really need to get to homework, sorry. Proper post soon.



Monday, April 27, 2009

Letters to People I

Dear EBF,

Last night that thing you said you'd protect me from, along with David, almost happened again. I was so scared, but this time I was angry too, which is never good because I'm far more likely to do something stupid. I was trembling afterwards, but the sobbing was more for you than anything else.

Before, I wouldn't have been so alone. Even in the incident I told you about, I was terrified out of my fucking mind, but I had someone, even if they were separated from me by the sea and god knows how many miles. The second time, you knew, as well, and the only thing that made it better was talking to you. You know how I suck at keeping my own secrets, but this is one only you and David knew, and not very much even then.

I was scared, last night. I thought surely it would end in something that would no longer be possible to hide. Broken bones type of something.
"don't come nearer or I'll kill you".
Ohmygod. It's bringing it back now, although it's fine, now.

But the worst part was not being able to go to you for comfort, to make me feel safe again, even as we shivered in the freezing cold of this weather, out at the park, or maybe the cubby house in the playground at your primary school. Even though I probably wouldn't fill you in on all the details, you'd still care. I'd hate how cold you'd get, but as worried as I would get, it wouldn't be so bad because you'd actually want to be there, and I'd know I wasn't just making you stay. (I don't "know" anything anymore, I second guess everything these days.) Instead I lay in the darkness, trying to pretend.

I'm not so great at pretending.

And when fear receded, I waited for the tension to slowly seep away too.

This was no replacement for one of your hugs.

I love you. I miss you. I hate calling you EBF and wish I could just write your name. [Jake.]



Sunday, April 26, 2009

"I live on raw emotion, baby"

I meant to write a brilliantly eloquent post yesterday about ANZAC Day; however, this evil beast named homework had me in its fearsome grip. I did (half) kick its ass, but I still have some catch up work to do and we go back to school tomorrow, so apart from my nightly phone call with Jimit, and the one I just concluded with him, I’ve had no contact with the outer world since Friday evening… Unless you count church. Which I don’t.

On the topic of church, though, in paying attention I was challenged today. Not a Christian and all that, but even on another note, I am far too argumentative and unwilling to help out, particularly with family. I mean to work on that, so let’s see how that goes.

I had a brilliant topic to post about but it has crawled out of my head and is trembling on some high ledge somewhere, about to jump. Thanks, you’ve been a lot of help (I hate you). So I’m all out of sleep and blog fodder (For this blog in particular at least), and I’m listening to Maroon 5. Confession – I cannot get enough of boy bands. Backstreet Boys, LMNT (look them up), Maroon 5, Matchbox 20 – I can’t help it. The Beach Boys, Kelly Clarkson and Daniel Bedingfield all feature in my iTunes. The shame, the shame. Or rather, the guilty pleasure. This is not at all what I wanted to speak of, and more like something I’d aim to post on Let's Talk About The Tour Guide but whatever Trevor, we can’t always get what we want and I have a fabulous post idea lined up there. I need sleep (or a coffee).

Is “fabulous” really spelt like that? It just looks wrong to me…


The school holidays are over for me at 11.59PM tonight, and it’s back to school for another gruelling ten weeks. Year 12 is hell. Thank god it’s the last year. No one mention Uni, I may slit your throat. If I keep it off my mind, that negativity of it all may not grind my soul into the dust, kay??

Biology is calling, and it is something of a bitch. A very large something. I have never said the words “I don’t care” and meant it so heartily except in reference to that subject synonymous with death. Although, German is quite possibly on par with that.

Bai guys. Catch you on the flipside.



Friday, April 24, 2009

It's Days Like This I Want to Keep Forever

Now that my low of before (last post) is over, I'm back to the happier self I keep finding that I am, more than usual. The disappointing of others is something I hate, particularly my dad. So why is it so hard to quit the things that would make him unhappy, particularly those he doesn't yet know about? He tries so hard to help others out of situations like the ones I jump into, and it's time I start being a daughter he can be proud of. That's going to be ultra hard. Karma's gonna be a bitch when I hit parenthood.

I want moments, when I'm a parent, like that with my best friend's nephew, Devin, today. Devin is newly eight and I've spent a lot of time with him lately, some sort of unexpected benefit of spending so much time with my best friend, especially during holidays. I remember trying to teach him to swim, with my best friend, when he was five. From then to the next time I saw him, he didn't remember me. Now he'll hang out just with me all the time when I'm over, showing me the stories he's written and trying out new impersonations and chasing me around the house in a tickling war. Today, he gave me a hug when I had to leave. Does that make me feel extra special? I know I bitch about little kids all the time, and I still think of him as one, but it's kids like him that reassure me I do want my own. (Still not too keen on the pregnancy/giving birth thing, but who knows?) While sometimes he is as frustrating as anything, he's so much fun to have around. I know, it's nothing like having to look after him all the time, and there's the dreaded baby stage to get past first, but it honestly is a joy to know him. So yes, that hug made me smile a lot, in a completely non pedophile way.

He is a never ending source of laughter, including his pretending to be female and putting on a very feminine walk while proclaiming in a high sing-song voice, "I'm a lady, I'm a lady!" repeatedly, much to our hilarity, although his older brother Miguel was much disturbed. The flower stuck in his hair merely added to the comic scene.

Aside - I just picked up on 11.11 for the first time in months, I hope you too made a wish. Regardless of how superstitious you consider yourself to be, it's something fun to do. I take this as a good sign, that I haven't missed it today. (:

Devin lives with my best friend's family and his mother, although with her impending wedding early next year, that is soon to change. I hope I'll see him again. I do love my best friend's family, with Miguel, a high school P.E. teacher and DJ, and their oldest sister Claudia, Devin's mum. My best friend's twin brother has, in turn, ended up a pretty cool guy, in stark contrast to his painful primary school years. I spend enough time over at their house that, as Miguel puts it, I should be paying rent.

I miss that, with my family, that casual family camaraderie. I get along great with my sister, like I've said, and also with my dad sometimes, an occurrence that grows ever the rarer, to my sadness, and my relationship with my mum is terrible. When our family is together as a group of four, it usually ends in arguments, screaming and tears. Occasionally a good natured bickering will be the worst it gets, but I miss the days when we would properly converse as a family unit and tempers wouldn't flare so quickly. I'm partly to blame, of course. We all are. But even with all of our fighting, I love my family and I know I can rely on them when needs be.

So anyway, today. It was supposed to be spent with my best friend Kathleen, our good friend Michelle, and Jimit, who Kathleen hasn't met yet but wants to. Jimit is Michelle's ex of two years ago, and trust me, she does not have a problem with us ever getting together. Conversely, she encourages it, far too enthusiastically, speculating about a possible marriage between us in the future, and even goes so far as to mention children at times. I try to head her off before it gets this far, but that is the way she is, even when Jimit and I were simply friends. She tends to think ahead like that.

Michelle was busy and then Jimit was grounded, and so, it ended up being Kathleen and I. We had a good day. Nothing notable, but there was much laughter, much good music, much falling over, and far too much (and far too loud) singing of High School Musical in the open street. Kathleen tasted my coffee, decided she liked it, and ended up drinking half of it which I in my excitement over her liking coffee gave to her. This resulted in extreme hyperactivity on her end for the next 45 minutes and much hilarity for me. I imagine she is exactly the same when drunk, but apparently caffeine will get the same reaction and, no hangover? What could possibly be bad about this situation? Nothing. ;D We ate curried tuna from tubs in the middle of the mall and attempted to slurp melted Maxibon ice creams in the food court. There were extreme amounts of "I love you"s, "I hate you"s and "You love me"s exchanged, an obvious some in jest, and much spontaneous rhyming and over dramatising throughout the day. Good friends were bumped into and we deliberated long and hard over presents for upcoming birthdays, ice cream type, pie or water, and various items of clothing and music. We bought books and recommended more to each other, and swapping of objects took place. We were laughed at by a number of other people, and contemplated where else we may possibly apply for jobs. I even did some Maths homework while in her company.

All in all, it was essentially a good, while largely uneventful day, the details of which are not important. It was the company. I’m very lucky to have such a friend, who I have known for such a long time. Unfortunately I cannot say we have been friends as long, since for some time in our last year of primary school, we hated each other for some ridiculous reason. Together with Michelle we make an indomitable trio, and is that not the way friendships should be? After all, love conquers all, and a very real and necessary form of love is that in the bond of friendship.

Dear god did I really just get that sappy? Perhaps Nic[h?]olas fucking Sparks has infected me… Granted, I read those three or four or five of his books months and months ago, but they still haunt me today. Separately, they’re great. But back to back, I don’t think I could vomit fast enough. If I threw up over such things, that is. Seriously, guys. Do not read too many of his books. You may kill yourself over the predictability of the endings, the way a man can think so like a woman that he details the shaving of her legs in the shower [!!!] and the oh so perfect happy endings. I’m all for happy endings, but a little realism also hits the spot, y’all.

Anyhow, die Madre bids me fare the interwebs goodnight for now. I shall see thee all in the morrow.

Night xx

P.S. Pray I finish all my homework before school starts. I’m probably just going to die instead, but whatever Trevor. I am really that lame. You wish you were as cool as me ;)

P.S.S. When I mood swing only once, and only into reflections and not "oh I hate my life" emo type shit, in a day, I think this day was pretty kick ass. Apart from that one thing but srsly what the fuck man. I honestly don't get what's the big deal. Oh, maybe I'm being insensitive. I like to do that sometimes. But -_-

P.S.S. Don’t forget. ANZAC Day. Lest We Forget.


"It's not the end of the world,

In fact it's not even the end of the summer,
But thank god the TV is on..."

Because I'd rather that than being with you.

I try. I do. And yet, it grows ever harder to mean what I say, when I say that.
[I love you.]
It was true, once. What happened?

And you know what, I could care less, but that's not to say that I care enough as it is. Is it worse to maintain this facade than to reveal the truth? I still care enough not to do that. For, honestly, I think the latter in this case is the more damaging course of action. And the "facade" is built with a mixture of lies, truth and half-felt emotions. Its a matter of selfishness also, and a nostalgia for the past.

I love you, like a worn out shirt that I can't quite throw out.

If I removed everything with association, you'd be third on the pile. But I think I'd steal you back at the very last second.

Half guilty, half gleeful. And keeping secrets was never such a thrill. Yet, it gets lonely when there's no one to confess them to. Silly secrets, big secrets, they all have their place. But I was never one to keep secrets, and it eats at me like it does at this blog. What happened to openness? What happened to honesty?

Can you recall naivety? Really recall?

I wonder if I've lost anything less than my soul, but then, perhaps I've lost everything less as well.

There are more questions than answers in this universe, and that's where faith comes in. Can one have faith without hope? I'd beg to differ. But no hope is better than false hope. I'll still justify my position, for without some form of hope I wouldn't be here, and until I can exchange mine for better, I'll stick with fake. A few hours of delusion never hurt; ask those who leave their sorrows at the bottom of a bottle. Deaden the pain that tells you something's wrong. Courage? What courage? I'll take my courage from a shot glass.

I use your words in placement of the blades I once dragged across my skin. You wouldn't want it but I'm all too eager to take them, for nothing is worse.

I've become the one you try to help, what you tried to warn me against, but only behind your back. I'm a disappointment enough as it is, yes? I take in much more than you'd think, but it's yet another case of '"I'm sorry" isn't enough'. I'd ask for forgiveness but I think that's more than I deserve, although you'd tell me otherwise. It's different in context, is it not? That bitterness keeps you up at night, although the parallels aren't as clear to you as they are to me. Is this a part of His plan? Because I know as well as you that only one other wanted this. All things work for the good of those... I'm not one of those, but you are. So where is the goodness here? I'm not doubting, but questioning. It is not my place, but what can I say? It is not so much your answers I want, but your comfort.

All I want is my own happy ending, and I don't even need a prince and castle.

Okay, my ramblings are over, for now. Take a guess as to what is addressed to whom, if you so wish. I can bet you won't guess correctly, or at least, not a hundred percent.

Night. xx

P.S. The anger and the hurt only stems from all this confusion, that "just tumbled from a washing machine" feeling.


Thursday, April 23, 2009

"It's funny, but you never think much about breathing. Until it's all you ever think about."

We come across many, many people as we walk through life.

Out of those we make an impression on, how long does that last?

Out of those we make a connection with, how long do we keep that flourishing?

Do we let the special ones go sometimes? Make no mistake, it is all too easy to do this, and I don't even have them in my mind here, although it applies there also.

I miss so many people. Justin, in particular. I've let myself fall completely apart to him over the time I've known him so often, and he has always been there to comfort me. I miss him. He's special. He's such an amazing person, ask anyone who knows him. I'm so lucky to know him...

If you have such people in your lives, or anyone really, that is special to you, don't take them for granted. Especially family. They are so easy to underappreciate,, just because they are always there. They're like air, water. Until we are without them we don't realise how much we need them.


You may think I sound a little drunk in my last post, or crazy...

There is a meaning. Can you find it?


I Candy Coat and Cover Everything That I'm Still Hiding Underneath.

Are you getting the full story?
Or just the edited version?

I'm curious, have any of you found what's hiding in plain sight?

It's growing, like rotting wood as termites destroy from within.

One day perhaps it will all be underground...

So, did you know about the secrets?


Fishes and Wishes and Faraway Things

I no longer wish on 11.11. It simply doesn't catch my eye, as it mysteriously used to do, prompting a feverish ordering of scattered thoughts into a cohesive statement, a wish. Just one wish, each time.

So, does this mean I have lost hope, am resigned, or is it a sign of nothing at all, a mere coincidence of life? It is after all one minute out of seven hundred and twenty, a rare occurrence. The chances of missing it are high. I don't believe on signs and superstitions, yet I like to pretend. Magic and signs for things are something I wish were real, and so I indulge myself with this idea from time to time.

However, there are signs from our subconscious mind that are real and valid.

Do you see any significance in this whole debacle?


Wednesday, April 22, 2009

“How much longer will it take to cure this?

Just to cure it, coz I can’t ignore it…”

“Man I’m thrown and I don’t know what to do, I guess I gotta give part II (or part 135287349675454) of my confessions…”

If you’re taking those lyrics in the context of the entire song, the first is much more appropriate than the second. As far as I know, no I’m not pregnant. Yes, I still haven’t gotten around to confirming that… Sigh.

I like Jimit again. Just a little. I guess it’s because we’ve been talking again more lately, and hung out. He was at my house today. But I'm pretty sure nothing would happen. I mean, we flirt all the time and act like we're together sometimes, but we talk about who we like and stuff... I don't know. We've already been there, you know?

I know my posts have been terrible lately, sorry. Putting more energy into my new blog but this will always be my favourite. ;D

Love. xx

P.S. Guys, remind me to tell you about Vinnie. Soon.


"I'm sick of this life, I just want to scream...

How [the fuck] could this happen to me???"

Remember my new pants?

I broke them.

I kid you not.

Head on over to my new blog, Let's Talk About The Tour Guide, for details. It's new and some of the posts are reposts from here, so bear with me.

And leave me sympathy. I know, I bring it upon my self. But never on purpose.

I'm just a poor soul, entangled in a web of my own idiocy. And it's damn funny to blog about. (:


Tuesday, April 21, 2009

School and Parents -_-


I really am trying so hard at school. I mean, I suck at organising my work so I still am leaving things till far too late, but I really am trying. It's the holidays. Please leave me alone. I have been doing homework these holidays, how can you expect that I do more and also socialise less? I want to see my friends, you know, the friends that I am losing because I barely see them? Does that not matter to you at all? It is not just about school work! There are other fucking aspects to life. I hate that you think I don't try enough, because I do. I want to go on the computer for a few hours because I'm not going to sleep anyway and you stop me because of the time, when I couldn't go on previously because I was doing homework all day, apart from four hours with a friend??? Why can't you understand that I DO FUCKING TRY???


Monday, April 20, 2009


pleasebeokay, please be okay.
that's all i want, and i don't even know what's wrong. i hope so much it's not like before...
I know something is wrong. But it is no longer my place to know, to ask, and I can't help it, I need you to be okay. I'm so scared but I... I can't do anything. Even more so than ever before.
I don't want you to be less than happy.
I love you. Jake Robert Leo Boesten. I miss saying your name. Walking with you. Talking to you. Be okay, god, please.


Sunday, April 19, 2009

Seems like a lot of us have lost friends, hey?

God. What happened to all of us?


Because Stupid People are Hilarious

Check out this site. Its called (The Customer Is) Not Always Right, and details hilarious exchanges between customers and those working in various jobs. Sometimes, people are dumb. Really dumb.

For instance,
"What A Kilo-Moron

Pizza | Vancouver, BC, Canada

Customer: “Hi, can you tell me how big an order of breadsticks is?”

Me: “Well, a small is 6, and a large is 12.”

(The customer and his wife confer for a moment before he turns back to me.)

Customer: “We’re from the States; we don’t use the metric system. Can you convert it?”"

Case #2

Jurassic Farce
Customer Service | Florida, USA

Customer: “I need some help locating the item that this coupon advertises. I’ve looked everywhere and just can’t find it.”

Me: “Let’s see if I can help you here…” *looks at the coupon* “I’m sorry ma’am, we don’t sell this item anymore.”

Customer: “Why not? I have a coupon for it. I wanted to get it for my husband for his birthday next week.”

Me: “Ma’am, this coupon was expired fifteen years ago. They no longer make this product.”

Customer: “Can’t you go look for one? I really need it, it would be perfect for him.”

Me: “…sure! It just so happens that I developed a machine that can warp the space/time continuum. Would you like to accompany me on the trip or would you like to stay here?”

Customer: “REALLY? Thank you so much! I’ll stay here and wait for you.”

(I go into the back room for a couple of minutes to let my manager know what I’m about to do, then come back out running.)


Customer: “OH NO! I’LL GO CALL THE POLICE!” *runs out of the store*

(I went back to my manager after the customer ran off, and he was literally rolling on the ground laughing.)

Yes, people are THAT gullible. Also check out FML.


Saturday, April 18, 2009

Sometimes, words fail.

Or maybe it is not the words that fail, but our ability to use them.

I stand by my belief that while forgiveness is the hardest thing sometimes, it is the most personally rewarding if it can be done. If you can let it be done.

Not being able to forgive just makes things worse. for you.

Just sayin'.

I love you and this sucks. I hope it gets better, somehow.


"When I Feel So Helpless"

I know, I sketched out pretty badly last night. But I am back, and better than ever (y'all).

I know. I have a problem. Why do I have this insatiable urge to add "y'all" to the end of sentences?

Unfortunately, I do not know. Life goes on. So, back to what I was saying...

There was a reason that triggered last night's post, but I do not feel it necessary to go into that. Sometimes the trigger that brings about that particular emotional state of mine is nothing more than an argument on a tv show. Sometimes it is of even less significance. Either way, my panic tends to send me spiralling deeper and deeper into "breakdown mode", which only gets progressively worse. It lasts for hours and hours and it's terrible. But yesterday, yesterday was different.

While wanting to hurt myself is no longer my first response to being upset, well, it used to be. On the last day that I did hurt myself (July 2, '08), I got into an argument with the ex best friend over my "ridiculous attitude to life", as I was feeling like crap for no reason and I met his suggestion of trying to "do something about it", do something that would make me feel better, with a petulant no. I didn't want to fight feeling like that, I didn't have the effort and everything just seemed too hard. I'm a little bit (read: a lot) of a pushover, I give up too quickly and am far too easily overwhelmed. I'd try to rely on others to help me feel better. While at the time I essentially ignored his advice and continued to whine like a spoilt child, that text message of his is one I kept and would refer to later, until, well, until I snapped the piece of crap phone in half. By accident!

So last night, I fought it. "Rise Above This" is the song that, since it was left embedded in a comment on one of my LiveJournal posts, back when I used it, has always been able to... buoy me. I wouldnt say it makes me happier, but it makes me feel stronger, encourages me to continue on. In particular, the music video means a lot to me. So I had this song on repeat and focused on calming myself, then made myself interact with my family. My mother, as usual, said something amusing, either through use of a new word in her vocabulary or a mixing up of a phrase, much like Ziva in NCIS.

And it was good, actively trying to get past it. I feel properly hopeful again. I know I'm getting better. It doesn't mean I'll stop missing those friends, or regretting what has transpired, but it means I'm not going to allow myself to walllow in self pity. I am not going to be that pathetic.


Friday, April 17, 2009

"I'm falling down"

in every way possible

"... but I'll rise above this."

I swear.

It was only today that I was telling Kate that this song can't help me anymore, I've associated it far too much with the ex best friend...

But right now it's on repeat and its the only thing I can cling to.

And I am.

You should watch the video.

Take the light, undarken everything around me
Call the clowns and listen closely, i'm lost without you
Call your name every day when i feel so helpless
I'm fallin' down but i'll rise above this, rise above this

Hate the mind, regrets are better left unspoken
For all we know, this void will grow and
Everything's in vain, distressing you though it leaves me open
Feels so right, but i'll end this all before it gets me

Call your name every day, when i feel so helpless
I'm fallin' down, but i'll rise above this, rise above this
Call your name every day, when i seem so helpless
I'm fallin' down, but i'll rise above this, rise above this doubt

I'll mend myself before it gets me
(i'll mend myself before it gets me)
I'll mend myself before it gets me
(i'll mend myself before it gets me)

Call your name every day, when i feel so helpless
I'm fallin' down, but i'll rise above this, rise above this
Call your name every day, when i seem so helpless
I'm fallin' down, but i'll rise above this, rise above this
Forty eight ways to say that i'm feelin' helpless
Fallin' down, fallin down', but i'll rise above this, rise above this

I'll be back later.

Forgive me. Words aren't really working for me right now. How do I explain the pain, both physical and otherwise, that is clenching within me right now? Oh, to be a year ago. Oh, to have that again.

I can't even bear to go on MySpace anymore.

I don't know how I keep doing this. Why is it even freaking worth it anymore??? Please god tell me there is a reason. Because, because I can't really see that there is. I know that's because I'm so freaked out right now, for god's sake i am fucking trembling, it is so hard to type, but still, at this point in time, i don't see the point
i mean i keep doing the same fucking thing anyway
time and time again
do i not learn
if i keep going this way i will lose everyone i care about eventually
i know, this will pass
i know i'm overdramatic
how could i let this happen
how could i freaking do this
nothing i do can ever make up for this
there is nothing that could replace what i lost
and regardless of every other mistake i have made and fuck knows i've made a lot, that is the biggest regret i will have
and i will never forgive myself

no, what i am going to do is go calm myself down for the next few hours. to sleep or not to sleep? sleep --> most likely dreams concerning them. no sleep --> definite thoughts of them.

"but i'll rise above this"

cross your fingers for me.


Sunday, April 12, 2009

Oh yah, it's Easter. Happy Easter and all that crap

So I was all like, I really want to blog this Sunday night on Easter, since it's been a few days. I racked my brains for hours (or the minutes in between episodes of Avatar: The Last Airbender. Yes, I have that little of a life. Although, I am killing time till I go out, so there.) However, my brain isn't really a fountain of ideas at the best of times. So as I started this post with literally nothing to write about, I mentioned Avatar, and because I am a kind and good person, gave you a link for those of you who are curious. Now, what site did I link you to? The official website for this show, which there must be because everything has a website now? Hell no.

The link leads to the freaking Wikipedia article about it. Now, we've all been told by respective teachers and god knows who else that Wikipedia cannot be trusted. In fact, most sources on the internet "are not reliable". But come on, does anyone really believe that? I mean, everything on this blog is a hundred percent true. ;) Hmmm. Let me think about that.

No, no, actually, I think that is correct. Except those times when I write stuff and say "That was a lie" right after it... Yeah.

On a side note, I think it's pretty cool that my blog is getting hits from faraway places like South Africa, Spain and Brazil. From people who are actually reading and spending a number of their minutes of their life actually reading what I have to say. When seriously, what I have to say is... well, a whole lot of nothing, really.

Hmmm, anyway. So, Wikipedia. If you're like me, you've edited a Wikipedia post yourself, adding a whole lot of crap. The ex best friend showed me a post that had been mangled hilariously once, and come on, it's a lot of fun. And yet, we still trust what we read there! Unless, I hope, it has been obviously edited...

We are slaves to the interwebs. I, in particular, am slave to the blogosphere. I cannot part from it for long, even if I am not posting, or even commenting, but merely lurking. Yes, I lurk. I know.

I'm kind of obsessed with the Death Cab For Cutie song I have playing on my blog. That said, I am aware that music that automatically plays on any site is irritating as shit and anyone who causes it to happen besides the love of my life aka MySpace, which I have sadly been parted from for far too long, should be shot in the head... So shoot me.

I'll delete it soon, I swear.

Anyway, off to Movie Marathon it up or some shit my best friend and I haven't actually worked out yet but are trying to and failing because she is trying to make me make a decision from our one option. We only have ONE option, how can I not make a decision? I guess I'm just not willing to commit.

Which reminds me, Chris and I have pretty much broken up. Much hurrays and also much boos. Pro number one - Jimit is now friend with benefits again hellz yeah. I mean sure, we only hook up so perhaps friends with benefits isn't the right definition, but w/e. Okay I'm trying to look at/on the bright side and I suck, but I am actually happy about that which was one of the major downsides, in my view, of going out with Chris. I'm a terrible person.

I suck at life aha. Good night interwebs.

EDIT: What the shit is it about Easter that makes people say peeps? Not one, but two bloggers happen to have posted today using "peeps" in the title of their post. Yes, only two. But come on, it's not a common word... Just go with me on this one kayy?


Saturday, April 11, 2009

I'm so sick of fighting all the freaking time


Thursday, April 9, 2009

Me, a Perfectionist? I Think Not. (And Yet...)

or, Why I Care About My Writing So Much
or, My Half-Assed Attitude Toward School and How I'm Determined to Finally Change It
or even, A Prime Example of Why I Should Sit Down to Write a Piece in One Go and Not Come Back to Finish it With a Complete Emotional Change...
OR PERHAPS, The Post Where I Really Should Realise That Only One Title is Necessary, Not Three, or Four (but I will realise no such thing ;D)

In the feedback I received last night from a teacher over an essay draft, he made this comment - "you write well". Now, I assume a normal person would be pleased with such a remark. I, however, take offence. Well? Well???

I don't want to just write "well". I want to write amazingly, brilliantly, magnificently. I'm not even kidding. I would, it's true, be disinclined to believe someone who would tell me such things, and yet, that is what I desire. I want to write fabulously. I want to write a novel that will one day be a classic, that other Year Twelve English students will do their major individual study on. I have lofty aspirations, and yet, when it comes to putting in the hard work now, a lot of the time, I just don't do it. The necessity of it doesn't quite strike me. I am doing better this year at school than last year, in some subjects at least, but still, far too often I allow myself to be distracted when I should be studying or doing homework, and procrastinate until it's too late. I am making changes to correct this, slowly.
[I'm trying to write about you here less.]
I used to be a highly conscientious student. At some time early in my high school career, I negligently let that slide. As a result, my grades for quite some time have been abysmal, appalling. Every time I try to make it right, I grow slack and let other things take priority, little things, like a favourite TV show. If there is nothing I can use to procrastinate, I will search long and hard in order to find... something. It is rarely anything useful, either. On occasion, my procrastination will take the form of household chores, but that is far more the exception than ever the rule.
[That doesn't mean I don't think of you.]
The most disappointing result of this has been my low grades. I love my parents being proud of me. I crave acceptance by others, all others, a little more than can be healthy. However, it is not only that. I disappoint myself because I know I can do better, I know I can do really well, if I were better organised, if I put in more effort. It is through no lack of ability that my report card has too often had "C"s and even "D"s printed on it. I could achieve the "A"s and "B"s, but I let myself down.
[How could I not?]
This time, though, I am determined. It is Year Twelve, and I only have one shot. I will not repeat and do Year Thirteen. I do not need to waste another year of my life. I will not be shown up by my younger sister. I will get myself organised and do as well as humanly possible for the rest of this school year. I'll be so organised I will even have extra time to revise and study, and will actually do so. I will actually get a decent amount of sleep, keep in regular touch with my friends, practice my flute, and start going for runs. At least, that's the plan.
[Sometimes I almost wish I could forget you.]
I have terrible will power. Shockingly terrible. Somehow, with the support of my wonderful friends / other randoms, I will get there. You have permission to beat me if I slack off. ;)
[It would be so. much. easier.]
So, let's recap. I suck at school. Now, when you think about it, I suck at a lot of stuff. I'm not good at anything. Sport - horrendous. Music - average, would be better if I practiced more, but still shocking at theory and aural. Can't sing. Dance - completely uncoordinated, hopeless. Cooking - terrible. Friendships - Oh, I'm great with those [/sarcasm]. Basically, in most aspects of life, I'm average to shocking.
[And yet, I could never give up the memories of the good times.]
Writing is the one thing I could do well. And there are so many people who are better at it than me, which makes me sad. I don't just want to be good at it, I want to be very good. I want to shine with raw talent, to amaze people who read my writing. Because I am not good at anything else and I want to at least be good at one thing. And if I'm only good at one thing, I don't want to simply be good. I want to be amazing. I want to stand out for something good, rather than standing out as the last one to always be picked for a team, as the worst who just cannot be taught and so even the nicest of P.E. teachers give up, I don't want to be left alone, worse than unnecessary but actually having a negative impact.
[I will forever cherish them.]
And... right now I'm just flat and tired and I feel thwarted, defeated.

I'm not even going to explain why. I can't, I can't keep putting these things to words. Just, something that I was looking forward to has been taken away. You may not see it here but I am so often fighting to see the positive in a situation, and I just, don't want to anymore. I hate how much this taints everything. Every single thing. I hate how its poison has infected me so deeply that I would run like this. I want to move on, move past it. I want to keep what I have.
[And forever regret losing the chance to make more]
But how can I, when its tentacles manage to creep into everything, wrapping around and choking it, cloaking it in this inky blackness? I can't fight it, it is inescapable. And this monster is mine, I created it, unwillingly though it was.

I know I'm over dramatic but all I can feel is like I am the character in a play of tragedy, with every good thing snatched away at the last. Everything tainted, everything warped.

It is a tiny thing, but it was important to me. Sometimes I just want to scream "fuck the world" with all the self absorbed, dramatised teenage angst I can conjure, rebelling, but not against a stereotype, no, rebelling as the stereotype, angry, defiant, but simply because I'm lost.

I'm hurting so bad that I don't want to have to take it, I want to be selfish and see just how much I can hurt you too, with every word I say, but even if I let myself, would you take it? Because I can't stand anything more leaving, I'd get down on my knees and beg if it would convince you to stay; I want to make you smile, not cry, I need you to need me for whatever reason you can find. I don't know who I am, where I'm going, what the fuck i'm doing but i'm sure that if you go, my heart could not bear it

I'm terrified of being alone, stranded in a pool of merciless light, surrounded by the darkness. Even now I feel the shadows stretch closer, dancing on the edges of this unprotected space. I'm too fearful to move, but if I did it would be to drop - fall - into a bundle, curled up so tightly on the ground you'd mistake me for a heap of rags... Trying to pretend, as children while parents fight, as soldiers while bombs fall, breathing "it's okay" though I know it's a lie. Whispering it in my head instead, trying to drown out the noise - or is it the silence? - of being so alone. Creeping closer, tendrils caressing. Not long now.
It's the agony of waiting. Knowing already the inevitable end.
Fit to burst, the panic tightens the chest, rising, rising.
Ever rising. When will it begin? can'ttakeitcan'ttakeit
the shuddering, violent gasp, the shock of a harsh night air suddenly in the lungs,
skin so tight, pulled taut by expanding ribs,
pressure moving outward, upward; threatening to snap
bones like twigs, Crack. Crack.
Heart beating? no,
rather a pulsing of the blood, from temple to fingertip, fingertip to toe.
Frozen, conscious,
Pressure rising...


Begging you please, don't go

Only realised yesterday really, how scared I was of this last term that is coming up. It reminds me of the last "last day" of term I had. I'm glad I'm not going, since it's essentially pointless.

I miss what we had.


I love Google Analytics

What kind of person googles this? "Well i just found out something really random. i found out that i've been so insensitive about things. ugh! i dunno what to say anymore (lol). i swear"

Just sayin', that is absolutely ridiculous to actually try to look up...

I will admit, this search that lead to my blog amused me somewhat - "you better hold on tight spider monkey what does this mean" (thanks to one of my posts bitching about Twilight)

and while I like shoes, a lot, this also worries me a little. They are just shoes.. "point out that cinderella is living proof that shoes can change your life?"

Conclusion - People search for the strangest of things over the internetz.


Wednesday, April 8, 2009

My Blogging Pet Peeves

Well, I think if you read my blog at all, you can quite easily see that I complain, a lot. I am not afraid to be far too verbose about it. Do I use "verbose" in the right context? Gosh, I hope so. I don't know why I just said that. Gosh, I mean.

So right now, I'm going to stop, take inventory, and tell all of you just what the hell irritates me when it comes to bloggers. Yes, I am here to spread cheer and goodwill, just like Santa. That is, like Santa if every kid had been bad and was getting coal... and a beating. On that joyous note, gather round, younglings.

1. Those who put up "captchas" for anyone who wishes to comment. It's irritating, and really, consider that it is to prevent spam. How often are you spammed on your blog in the comments? Not often, I'd dare to assume.

2. Those who selectively allow comments by others. While I do moderate comments, it is only because I hate getting notifications sent via email, and use this instead, although it does make for confusion at times. I will post any and all comments. Of course, if a comment is truly hurtful, then you have every right to delete it. But if it is merely someone disagreeing with you, leave it up. What are you, three?

3. Those who do not adjust the time on their blog. It's really not that hard.

4. While some people expect replies to comments they leave on posts, I'm not so fussed. It's pretty much courtesy, but that is at the blogger's discretion, particularly if a comment merely saying "lol" has been left. Come on, what suitable reply to that can even be made? That being said, if you are going to reply to some comments on a post, you should reply to everyone who has commented so far. You can at least refer to a couple of comments in one reply.

5. People who read and read your blog and never comment. Unless you don't want it to be known that you are reading said blog, then... that would make sense. I am guilty of this at times, since I follow almost too many blogs to keep up with. Or sometimes I'm just antisocial. Still, it is bad. Everyone loves comments. Spread the love.

6. Those who follow your blog simply because you follow theirs, when they don't have the slightest intention of ever reading yours, and are not interested at all. I'm following your blog because I like the content, not because I want more followers of my own. That's pathetic, and I wouldn't stop reading your blog because you don't read mine. I just prefer a more accurate portrait of who is interested in my blog. On that note, does anyone know if, with the new Google Friend Connect, it is possible to make someone "unfollow" your blog just by clicking, as you could previously do?

7. Blogspot bloggers who have removed the "Followers" option. It is the easiest way for us to receive updates to your blog. I do not use Google Reader, and chances are, if I can't follow your blog, unless I really love your blog (like Your Beard Is Good ;P He's really funny), I will not remember to check it regularly. Of course, if you don't use Blogspot, like Chris over at Surviving Myself, this doesn't apply.

8. Yeah nah that's all the bitching I can come up with for now. What can I say? I love you guys in the Blogosphere, you make my day. It is true, I spend my days thinking about what to blog about. When I reach a computer, there is nothing but emptiness in my skull. It sucks, but know that I try, for you, and only for you. (That's a lie. It's not really for you. But let's pretend, it makes this easier for everyone.) Just gonna put it out there - you guys make me laugh, smile, cry, think deeply, realise and learn so many things, and cheer me up when I'm down. You're amazing and I'm so glad to be a part of this, even though my blog sucks. Because, again, how many of my followers actually read my blog? I know for a fact that there are several who Numero Sechs. Yes, That was Spanish, I think, and then German. Fine, fine. Nummer Sechs. That's #6 to those of you who do not have the superior German skills I have... [/sarcasm]

And bloggers, I'm curious. When you access the blogosphere, do you read others' posts first and comment, or write your own posts first and then check out everyone else's? I can't even remember what I do, but I think I actually start reading others', begin my post, keep reading others' in between, finish mine, read others', and wait for comments and for other people to post... Yes, I have no life.


Shop Till You Drop Part II

Or, Why I Hate My Bra Size

ISWEARTOGODITISIMPOSSIBLEFORMETOFINDBRAS. Okay, near impossible. My mum tells me I should quit with the exaggerating, but where's the fun in saying "I haven't seen you in a week", when I can say "I haven't seen you in like, fifty years!"? Lie? Yes. But, entertaining to me for some completely unknown and probably inexplicable reason? Also yes. And that, folks, is what counts. [And yes, I do use "like" far too much in conversation. However, no, I never actually say "folks"...]

Now, I used to like bra shopping. So many pretty bras. Then... Well, I became the bra size that I am today. I actually hate bra shopping. Bras in my size just aren't that common, and even when I do find any that are the right size on the tag, each bra is different blah blah, and more often than not, they don't actually fit me. Apparently big cup size and small chest don't normally go together. You know what I have to say to that? Fuck you, bra makers, and fuck you, 10DD.

I don't want to wear granny bras! Besides, my mother doesn't like to spend over $50 on one bra, especially since I am "still growing" and therefore, she'll need to buy more later on. Uh, mum, I actually still need bras now, even if I will need different sized ones in the future! Just sayin'.

But yesterday, I actually found some that fit and were average looking. I don't care if no one else sees my bras, I freaking know what I'm wearing and I want it to be pretty damnit {I am aware that damnit is actually properly spelled dammit, although it is slang and thus, shouldn't even have a proper spelling, to my mind. However, even though it irritates me, I picked it up off a dear friend and it's one of my ways of remembering him, so forgive me this continual spelling error thing... Oh and P.S. Mozilla Firefox spell check, "spelt" is a word >.<)!

Average looking? That ain't gonna cut it. I don't want to be average, I want to be above average. Although you wouldn't be able to tell by my school work...

You know how sometimes I say that people suck? Well, people make bras. Therefore, people suck.

P.S. Remember how the other day, I was bitching about Lady Gaga? That said, this cover of Poker Face is freaking amazing, and I discovered it all thanks to JoJo at I Once Was Captain of Whatever.

Seriously, take a look. It's pretty cool.

And, FYI, I'm actually getting a B in three out of five subjects this term. Don't ask about German and Biology. ;P Also, thanks to my terrible critical analysis skills, my English grade would have been a C, but my recount and oral and the like brought me up, and then my teacher gave me an extra mark for some reason ;D Must work harder next term.


Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Shop Till You Drop

or, I Feel Slightly Derro Because It Took Till My Jeans Wore Through Before My Mum Would Take Me Shopping

My mum took me shopping at the mall today for an hour and a half before she went to work, because, let's face it, I really needed new jeans. You'd be crazy to deny me that. I'm also low in numbers when it comes to bras, and just, clothing in general. My mother has been convinced that she "bought me clothes only recently" for the past year... Just like she's been saying that she and Dad moved to Australia from India "fourteen years ago" for the past four years.

So anyway, in my unending complaints about the fate of my jeans over the last few days, I've been informed that this happens to many people. So it wasn't, as I was worrying, that my legs are huuuuge and thus caused this to occur. Also take into consideration that I wore these near constantly. So, the wearing out justified, I was all good to search for some more. The problem is, it took me a very long time to find these jeans. I'd wanted black skinny's for ages but every pair I tried on made my legs look fat. It was the jeans, of course. Not my legs...

So, after finally finding the perfect jeans that were now torn beyond repair, I was somewhat nervous to look for some black jeans once more. If I seeked suck? sucked..? oh fuck it: searched, would I find? (Although come to think of it, I really do suck.) It was a question that desperately needed an answer.

It was of some urgency, too, since at school we must wear black pants, and I'm not willing to wear proper school pants, nor trackies. I look utterly slightly ridiculous in both. Anyway, I found a pair pretty much straight off the bat.

It is true, I use nearly every cliche in the book. Even that was a cliche. Was it not? (I wanted to use a cliche just then so it would be funny, but... I kinda really fail at life, like, a lot, so please insert one here)

I wasn't sure about the jeans after trying them on, though, and so, this is the conversation that followed.

Toivoa: "Do these jeans make my legs look fat?"
Toivoa's Mum: "Your legs are fat."
Toivoa: Should have seen that coming. "Be that as it may, does it make my legs look fat? My other jeans didn't."
TM: "That's what you think."
Toivoa: How is my self esteem even as high as it is? "Um. Regardless. Do my legs look fat in these jeans???"
TM: "Just get them..."
"You need to exercise. You eat so much junk."
Toivoa: BAH! (I have good mental comebacks. I copyrighted that one, but you can use it if you want. You're welcome.)

These jeans are really tight. When I put my jeans on, I end up doing this dance in which to get my legs through my jeans because it happens to be more interesting than, well, however ordinary people put their pants on. I kick my legs outward like I'm trying to Irish dance like a Leprechaun, or something.

What can I say? I exude awesome. So much awesome my pants can't contain it. (Which is why my previous jeans tore and these ones are so tight... No? No? Fine.)

I should stop that train of thought.

I do often fall over during this process. Come to think of it, I fall over often full stop. Today, while walking in my jeans and wearing heels, I caught one heel in the folded bottom of my other pant leg and fell onto the couch. My sister and her friend were amused. Charming and graceful.

So, due to the tightness, it takes five minutes to do the fly up. Okay, that's a lie. It does, however, take longer than doing up one's fly ever should. That much is true. I don't really do much to support my "my legs aren't fat" argument, do I?

Although here, my hips are the problem. Okay, so I may as well be screaming, "Hey, it's not just my legs that are fat, but my hips and probably the rest of me too!", but I've never been one to refrain from saying something because it will shoot down my own argument... I'm sorry? Me, illogical and somewhat lacking in brain cells?

... yeah, that sounds about right.

However, I did get the jeans! Then began bra hunting. But I'll leave that for tomorrow...

P.S. On a completely different note (and sorry about this), the shocking state of our world never ceases to horrify me. I can't quite comprehend how a person could reach this point in life. Committing suicide is a horrible enough thing, but deciding to take other people with you, innocent people who you do not even know, who have nothing to do with your situation; that bewilders and sickens me. It makes me so sad.

EDIT (11.53PM): And on another note entirely, I still freaking like Chris. A lot. Can someone tell him that? Since he doesn't seem to know and I don't even see him or get to talk to him, really... I'm so confused!


Monday, April 6, 2009

Three days of school left and till my dad gets home. Thank god on both counts.

Yeah that's all for tonight. At the moment at least. To homework.

EDIT (10.44PM) : I'm so, so sick of feeling alone.

In other news, however, I'm pretty happy to have been invited to a friend's birthday celebrations next week, considering that I haven't done anything with school friends in a very long time, least of all been to a birthday party, and I hate that I've let my friendships with a lot of people slide due to, well, other things. It should be fun, and I'm glad to hang out with these people, most of whom I have never done anything outside of school with, because of timing and circumstances. I'm talking crap. ;P I'm just sick of talking about it, really. And I am not going to drink too much and be the crying in the corner drunk he heard about when he was still new. Besides, that only happened once. Never again.

Oh and just found out that another friend, who used to be a good friend, well it's her birthday soon too. Yeah. I really hate how so many of my friendships have pretty much died because of one thing. I can't explain how much that sucks.

I'm really not good for blogging today. My brain is mush.

EDIT (11.08PM): Honestly, I'm just miserable. What with school, people; shit, with life in general, I'm just tired and exhausted and need a break. I miss everyone and I don't have any energy and I just want to sleep for a million years.


Sunday, April 5, 2009

Just Waiting for Proof that there’s Sunsets and Silhouette Dreams

I know that this blog was supposed to be positive, and even though I’m incredibly confused and scared and practically running around in circles during the few minutes when my head isn’t stuck five feet under the ground in order to avoid reality, well, I still think I’m in a much better place than, well, where I was when I wrote a certain post on my LiveJournal which I have only just re-read. Let me tell you, I do not ever want to be back there again. (Not LiveJournal, but in how I was thinking and feeling during that post ;P)

The post is dated the 30th of September, 2008, and I’m pretty much incoherent. I can’t even formulate sentences. As for what I’m detailing with the words I’m getting out, that’s pretty scary too. I wanted to die, and I say that, several times over.

Here are some excerpts. “I don't want to be dead. But I don't want to be alive… I'm dying inside. No I feel already dead. So then why am I still crying constantly. Why do I still feel so sick all the time, I can't even walk, can't talk, I collapsed the other day at home, i couldn't stand up anymore, i practically fell to sit on the floor… I think I fucking lost my heart when I read those words. I don't want to keep going. But there's nothing else to do. I'm not so stupid as to kill myself... I can't even breathe properly. i didn't know i could cry this much. i want to die. i really just do. I can't even explain what i'm thinking. please just let me die. i can't do this. i want to cut myself into a million shreds, to reflect the pieces of my heart. I am struggling for words. I don't know what i'm doing or saying, i can't focus or concentrate... I want to die.”

It actually terrifies me to remember feeling that. My mind just would not work, and I would come home after school and cry and cry and could not physically speak, I couldn’t sleep and when I did, I’d have dream after dream that I could not handle. I didn’t do any school work, and I have no idea how I held myself together at school at all. It was like I was in the most terrible nightmare, and I kept pleading with my mind to let me wake up, but what was the worst was that I knew it was real, and I wouldn’t wake up. I’m overdramatic, I know. But that’s what it felt like. This is before the hospital incident, which occurred two days before our school’s final music night for the year, and which I have yet to write about properly.

Even looking back to the early posts of this blog, there are some moments when I’m pretty emo, or whatever you want to call it. I wouldn’t say “depressed” because I’m not comfortable with using that word in relation to myself; I don’t think I’ve ever had depression but many people and tests beg to differ. And come to think of it, I’d never use the term “emo” to describe someone else feeling like that, except if it was a joke. That, however, is neither here nor there.

We all expected there’d be setbacks, anyway. No one is happy all the time. So here’s some evidence of how much better I am – 2nd of July 2008 was the last time I hurt myself. Even with how I was feeling above, I could not, would not give in. I knew that would have made it even worse. My friends, yes, those ones, were the reason I stopped in the first place, and that, in a way, made me want to, because I didn’t have them anymore; but I knew I had to, or it would only make things worse. It’s hard to explain…

It hurts rather a lot that they were the reason I stopped and now, well, it doesn’t matter to them either way; at least, that is what I’m guessing. But it’s my fault myfault. That is what hurts most I guess. Actually, I can’t pinpoint it to one thing about it that is the worst, it’s all of it together. But that is not what this post is about.

You might not believe that I’m getting better. Sometimes I don’t believe it myself. Sometimes I feel like I’m desperately trying to keep myself together even as I am falling irreparably apart, and that even when I think I’m doing okay, I’m not really. And sure, these moments have been occurring more than usual lately, since this incident. But when I manage to work up the courage to actually get said incident sorted out and dealt with, I think I’m going to keep becoming a more positive person, or whatever the hell it is. With being happy with myself, and thus being able to be a better friend. And all that jazz.

Anyway I’m off to watch some TV, and it’s not even NCIS for a change. ;)

Love to all my blogging friends



I’d say it was a “foot in mouth” moment but,

Well, I hate feet and thus, the entire concept is rather… vulgar, to my mind, so I steer well clear of that phrase whenever possible. So anyway, about a month and a a half ago, when Italics Boy was in the picture (Have I mentioned how every time I type “Italics Boy” it makes me think of an Italian, due to the similarity between the two words? He is,however, not Italian, if you were wondering…) as the guy I liked, we were in town for the day. After wandering around for hours, we resorted to visiting Target.[Today in church I froze...]
As we walked through the men’s clothing section, I was pointing out shirts I liked and recommended for him. I stopped in front of one and said, “This would be a really nice shirt, if it weren’t for the crappy buttons; they ruin it completely.”
[...during the songs while memories of you played through my head.]
His response - “I have that shirt.”
[Biting my lip to stop the tears.]
Shit. “Really?”
[And then, the other thing,the whole sex thing]
[the memories of that joined in.]
Shiiiit. [It's hard to take.]
[ I know it's my fault. But that doesn't stop me from missing you.]
Cue awkward silence in which Toivoa is sufficiently embarrassed.

Edit [7.14PM]: I can't help it. I have fought it for years and years, but it remains. Why God why? It is true, I love Kelly Clarkson... On the other hand, I do want stab Lady GaGa in the face. And that makes me feel a lot better about myself ;PRemember when Random came to the school and Jon got his chest autographed by the singer saying he would marry him? Remember how we were planning t he wedding..? Only thing I'd add to that memory is the other one, she was later, and not soon enough... And I miss moments like that. I'd not have given up any chance to spend even a moment with you if I'd have known where we would be now.


Saturday, April 4, 2009

Good News / Bad News?

I am really missing Chris.

P.S. I really want to someday find someone for me who the lyrics of this song will be just right for -

Here [In Your Arms] - Hellogoodbye Music Code

Update (11.41PM) : I have a confession. I'm delaying getting off the computer as much as I can, even with my mum yelling at me (a lot), because I don't want to go to bed. And to sleep. Where I will be alone.

I'm so scared to be alone. I just want someone, anyone to converse with.


Friday, April 3, 2009


I'm so tired. Thank god a major English assignment is finally out of the way. It's not even worth much so I'm just relieved I have done it, it's handed up and I cannot worry about it anymore. It is done. Nearing the end, it was terrible, but like I said, it's not worth much.

I'm writing a story. I need to find my own style again, I've forgotten it a little, and at the moment am leaching of work that I've been reading. That said, you should constructively critique or just let me know your opinion about what I have written on my other blog. I need to hone my writing skills once more, I'm dreadfully out of practice. I'd love for you to be a part of that, it would be extraordinarily helpful.

I am exhausted. Tonight I'm going to get a decent amount of sleep. If I can. The dreams about them are coming back. If they become as regular as they were again, I'm going to give up on sleeping. I do not want the dreams.

As for Chris, I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't feel anything more for him that in a friendship way, again maybe its just after being away from him so long, or maybe it's the haircut. ;P But I really am not coping as well as I would like with schoolwork, and with time for homework, time to relax, see my friends and all that, I don't know if this is going to work anyway. I really don't even think I can put in the effort for a relationship. I like having someone to cuddle with and who is around a lot and stuff. But still.

Everything in life is so confusing.


Thursday, April 2, 2009

The post I didn't want to write

or, the second biggest mistake of my life. You should be able to guess what the biggest has been.

This is what I've been avoiding, but I need to actually talk about it. I guess. If you happen to be one of my sister's friends, either stop reading or take some kind of blood oath or something never to tell her this. Or any of the content on my blog, actually. Yeah. click below for more.

I was drinking with my best friend Nick and a mutual friend, at mutual friend's house. (He shall now be referred to as MF for the remainder of this post)

Yes, a story that involves me drinking. What could possibly have gone wrong? [/sarcasm]

Nick and I had actually become friends through MF in the first place, over two years ago, when I was in Year 10. He was in the grade above me at the same school, as was Nick, and they both graduated last year. I hadn't spoken to him much last year but at a gig Nick's band played at early this year, I chatted to him for quite a while, and he said he'd buy me the drinks I needed the next day for myself and a friend, since he's over 18 and lives in the same suburb. So this was all good.

The following weekend, Nick rang me asking if I'd come drinking with him and MF, and although I initially said yes, I bailed because I was too tired. Because of this, I was told I had to come drinking with them another time. I've wanted to drink with Nick for a long time, because we're good friends and it would be hilarious. A couple other girls who they were friends with were also supposed to join us, one of who I later found out happens to be BF's ex, but they also bailed at the last minute.

It was the 30th of January. ~10.30PM. This story lasts till the 31st of January. ~5.30AM.

So we played some drinking games, etc. I called exbestfriend, several times, as I've mentioned before, and left him several voicemail messages in which I cried to no end, telling him how much I missed and loved him. All that jazz. I don't know why I always call him and not the others. I just, dunno. Sigh.

I was rather drunk at this point. Let's fastforward a bit. So, uh, I, well I had sex with MF. His idea.

And you know what, it's stupid. Because I remember what I was thinking.

I wasn't that I wanted to, or didn't want to. It didn't seem to matter.

And I knew that was stupid, I knew I knew I would regret it when I was sober, I wanted to keep my virginity till marriage (christian upbringing), blah blah blah; but it just didn't seem relevant.

So, that's shit.

Now, what could make it worse?

GAH. Well, we didn't use a condom the whole time. !!!

So now you know why I'm fucking scared that I'm pregnant. Although it wasn't for very long, I think.

I don't know!

I mean sure, I still get my period, it was over two months ago, but you can be pregnant and still get your period. But if directly after your period you are most likely to be pregnant, surely directly before is least likely, right? I got my period the next day, which happened to be the birthday of one of my best friends.


And yeah I regret it.


I'm so fucking stupid.

If I'm pregnant WHAT IN GOD'S NAME DO I DO?

I know I should get a pregnancy test and all that crap, but I'm scared.

It's kind of a huge deal to me. And yet, still the one thing I'm more scared about is that they don't miss me at all, and that we'll never even be friends at all, ever again.

This morning I was thinking about how I met the first of them. I knew we'd be good friends pretty much immediately. Maybe I'll go into that another time.

God I miss freaking having someone to talk to.

I need to stop talking about them on here. Besides how that's hell awkward if one of them actually found it and read it, or even does so now (which please god will never happen), going on and on about it doesn't do shit. I don't know what to do. I don't know if there's anything I can do. And that sucks more than losing my virginity to someone I really barely know who just wanted to get some, more than the possiblity of being pregnant, more than not knowing if I am or am not pregnant.

I feel like such a screw up, but I'm not willing to accept that. I screwed up majorly with MF and my best friends, but I dunno. I'm 16. My whole life is ahead of me. These things don't go away and I can't make up for them but that doesn't mean I am a screw up. I guess. Even though it feels like I am sometimes.

Oh god, drinking is such a bad idea, for me at least. But I still am not willing to stop and I don't know why. I am just going to try to be careful about who I drink around, because I happen to be very susceptible. Oh God I hate myself sometimes. For some things, that is.


It was on Tuesday, so I believe.

I had a wonderful double free at school on Tuesday. For an hour and forty minutes, I was called a whore, a lesbian, a lesbian whore, a whore who was cheaper than a phone call; oh and "did I have a connection fee?" It was a joke, but the thing is, the guys who kept saying it took it past the point of being amusing. I'm really not a fan of one of them in particular, ugh. But I could deal with that. Some of what they were saying was hilarious. It was what one of them added that made me almost cry. "You not-friends-with-[exbestfriend]person". It was a ridiculous line. But it's true. And even though this person is hateful, he is friends with him, and as such, has one thing I want so much. No fair.

So fuck you Tom King. ;P

[And, Sacha, happy two year anniversary with Adam. I hope he keeps making you happy, you deserve it.]

Update: [7.40PM] I just read something... Something that makes me sad again. She's so lucky.


Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Days grow longer and nights grow shorter

Currently writhing in the grip of a fearsome headache. Okay, so it's not that bad, but I am assured that my head will shortly explode, with fragments of brain matter and bone splinters splattering the room. All my work on my English Supporting Study for a novel I have come to passionately hate will be soaked through with my blood, impossible to read.

I swear.

I have been minimising sleep for homework's sake. And my reluctance to cut myself off from other human contact. I just... don't want to be alone. This lack of sleep is causing my headaches. Thankfully, the holidays are but a week and a half away.

This study, in which we read and thoroughly annotate everything we can find in the novel, is huge. And due tomorrow. I am approximately halfway through. Themes, author's style, structure, perspective, language, techniques, notable quotes; all to be taken down. It is an exhaustive process, and with the pain of this headache that seeps through every level of my consciousness, I am currently not making much headway. I do not take painkillers after all my instances of overdosing on them, I am far too sensitive to the feeling of it moving through my body, making me feel spaced out, to be able to touch the stuff. My other usual option is to have really strong coffee, but after the incident the other day, I am keen to minimise all caffeine intake.

However, my introduction in my draft for a major essay in another subject was said to be brilliant by the teacher, so I'm pretty thrilled with that. I am determined to do well in the subjects I can now, and pick up in the others over the holidays.

And one thing that makes it all better is currently talking to the ex best friend. Crappy conversation. But it is, after all, who it's with that matters. Even if he is no longer my best friend. He still is himself. And that's why I love him.

I talked to him today, at school. Properly. More than a hello. I didn't even realise until an hour later. I was very tired and distracted at recess, and it was the first time I'd seen him in person since he got his hair cut. It's much shorter than it's been in the longest time, and I was curious, having seen a picture over MSN the night he'd had it cut. I just walked up to him and started rambling about how short his hair was, and not much else. I was also thrown off balance by the fact that Chris was back at school. When I did realise that I had actually talked to the ex best friend, I was slightly shocked. I FREAKIN TALKED TO HIM.

Anyway, Chris is back at school after... two weeks? A bit less, I think. I don't know. It was weird. I had gotten used to things without him. I talked to him a bit, but I was like we were just friends. Maybe it will take a while. I don't know. I don't want to be in a relationship. I hate the idea of it, I'm soo not ready. What am I fucking doing? No idea.

I'm planning on concentrating on schoolwork. It is year twelve, after all. Important. And I want a very high score.

But really, I just want to immerse myself in schoolwork so that maybe I can forget about them.

I don't want to isolate myself though, I went through that for a couple of months last year, and I can't do it. It may recede for a while, but I have a social nature and I care about people and I don't want to let them go. It would be stupid to add to what I have lost.

My head hurts.

P.S. [11.04PM] I think my heart just melted. Sure, my head is still exploding, but my conversation with the ex best friend... We were talking about a band that had memories from our friendship, and I couldn't help myself, I mentioned one of my favourite memories with him that was connected to a song by the band. It was this one night when we had gone for a walk, and went to a local primary school, and sat on the roof together. I said it was "good times" and then added "just randomly.", so that he didn't have to respond to the thought. He said "it was".

I practically melted into the ground. It just, means so much to me that a memory that I treasure meant something good to him. He's not just like "yeah, whatever. It was okay but I don't really care, that's all in the past". I mean, he's probably like that too. But he's not the most verbose of people, and the fact that he said it was a good time makes me happy in a sad, nostalgic way...