MLIG

Honestly, why haven't I been around?

Firstly, let me say that I've missed it, this whole blogging thing. The feel of community amongst those who have never met face to face or never would have if not for the blogosphere, that real friendship and all the laughs, all the stories. From those my age to those in their fifties and beyond, blogging has been an adventure. Now if it sounds as this is a retirement post, relax Max, it's nothing close.

I first began my blog almost eleven months ago. My blog and its audience and my blogging friends have changed drastically since those first days and weeks when I sobbed out my heart in HTML and custom font. Still a little too used to LiveJournal, perhaps. And with a heart in severe need of mending.

I hadn't realise I could hurt like that, feel so broken, so shattered. Not for so long. But then, I'd never thought those friendships could dissolve, and so rapidly, without any logical reason or explanation, in my eyes. A lot has changed and I think that those of you have been reading all this time could agree that I am a much stronger and resilient, even happier, person. Although I ceased my self harm in early July, it is this year that I have come to value myself even more highly, and learnt even more about acceptance, of myself and in every way of life.

I slip, a lot. Mood swings have been rampant these past weeks. Possibly a by-product of sleep deprivation. But, you see, le Boyfriend's parents have been away in Europe since August the 4th. And what would two teenagers not quite in love and carrying on a relationship without their would-be-disapproving parents' knowledge, do with this opportunity of an unsupervised house? No, not that... They would obviously spend as much as time as possible together at said unsupervised house... with clothes...

Cue a lot of lies - "Oh, mum I'm sleeping over at Jeorjette's/Shani's/Catherine's house tonight", a lot of close calls, far too much missed school than is sane whilst in one's final year of school, and considering the fact that it is Toivoa and Chip we're talking about here, a lot of crap and painful things including near break ups that has only resulted in us being even closer than before. We're talking car break downs, almost being caught sneaking out, accidental destruction of gifts, serious health problems, really bad jokes, some lengthy visits from that self destructive, heartless, psycho bitch side of me; and trust me, her showing up reminded me just how much I have not missed her.

The remainder of the time, I've been stressing about school and English teachers, not doing nearly enough work and discovering amusing sites such as MLIA, amazing sites such as MLIG and in particular, Gives Me Hope, which really does give me and a lot of other people hope. I've gotten my ears pierced, finally, been to a friend's formal, had le Boyfriend come to church with me, been drunk with le Boyfriend, and crossed a lot more items off on our make out list... I'll post it some time. I've banned myself from Facebook for a week, twice, and exploded Carbonara sauce in the microwave a couple more times than I'd like to admit. I've had the most dreadful arguments with the 'rents and missed friends like Raspberry Hatter and Elizabeth; wondered about Michael Rivera, hankered after reading a bit of Lilu, to name a few.

I've been missing people and been experiencing nostalgia for a past that I've never known, and my increasing "emotional chameleon" state is of likewise increasing intrigue to me. I've been out winning awards (well, only one, really) and buying books with the subsequent book voucher prizes, which I have then been too busy to read, or have misplaced somewhere in the house. I've been destroying phones and breaking stuff and getting down but somehow, never out. It's been bumpy, disheartening, but good. I am happy.

So why haven't I been blogging/reading/commenting? I'd like to say that I've been saving up blogging material for you all, but that would, unfortunately, be a lie. I've been lacking time and topics and the ability to write, as well as questioning whether I am truly cut out to create and sustain an entertaining blog, but I am going to say, with some trepidation, that I am back, and looing forward to this, you sexy sexy bloggers, you. And my posts shall NOT be as terrible as my previous few, I promise that.

But one more thing. I have another blog, which is pretty much exactly the same as this, but uncensored and without, well, at the moment, without anyone reading it, but without people-I-know reading it, therefore, a few extra posts you will never see here. I'd challenge you to find it but I'd love for it to have an audience asap, so drop me an email, yes, an email, and, I know, who the fuck uses email these days? Anyway, send me an email, and I'll let you know the password (or URL) to my cave of hidden wonders... /any sexual innuendo derived from that is totally a result of your own warped mind...

Oh and P.S.? (I know I said one more thing, and this makes two, but shush...)


I'm not in love, no, but I love Chip more than I can say (and trust me, you're going to be hearing rather a sickening lot about that in posts to come), and I can truly say that right now, he is the only one I want.



P.P.S. Just realised that I began this post with the line "Why haven't I been around?" Geez. Not to sound desperate to be slutty or anything, Toivoa. Besides, as I was telling Chip the other day, I'm too fucking good to be slutty, or a hooker, or a stripper. Problem? You be the judge.

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One Year Today. :)

I must be strong; I've come so far, you know. Although at times it seems a good thing, I understand the destructiveness behind your deception. Your incredible power is so seductive, but then, you're well aware. You're enticing, addictive. And I've always had trouble saying no...

You work so cunningly, so slyly. Attacking with loneliness and the fear it brings me - a little low, don't you think? Not that I ever mistook you for being honourable. You'd use every weapon in your arsenal and more tricks beside to have me at your feet once more, in helpless, fawning, obeisance.
We've walked that road so many times.

I love the way that you toy with us, at times gentle, cloaking yourself in the guise of innocence. At other times tempting, playing on guilt, forceful. "Oh, it's not that bad. Not such a big deal." "You know you want to." "You can't keep away. You couldn't before." "You'll never be free of me." Then the blunt shot, wordless. The cravings.

So many methods to employ and so admirably determined. I particularly enjoy the way you leave and come back with a punch; unexpected desire so hard to ignore. Or when you return after enough time has elapsed that its difficult to remember your dark side, even if one recalls it with their mind. Such tactics.

But see, the things is, even though you are so powerful, this power is not all-encompassing. I can turn my back on you, I can look away. I can remain vigilant and fight you with everything I've got. And what have I learned? That you are not indestructible. This is a war I'll be fighting for a long time; perhaps the rest of my life, but I am taking this stance and I am not giving in. I will not fall to you no matter how you plead or scream. This is me saying "never again".

A year ago I was in darkness, slave to a blade and the desperate need to flee from myself, from reality. Blood and pain flowing freely in a darkened room, heart more lost and broken than alive. Today I am fighting and more sure of one thing than ever before, that "hope is not a myth".

It was never going to be easy. I've caved enough times before to know. And sometimes fighting takes more effort than I've got, causes more pain than I know how to bear. I try try try and sometimes that doesn't seem like enough. Sometimes it isn't enough. But today, its been a year since I last cut, last hurt myself on purpose, and I am so proud of how far I've come. I never thought that I could do this, so many times when all I could see was pain and hurt; inescapable cycle; and yet, I have reached the other side of this dark tunnel.

Hope is real.

I'm not going to lie; I will find myself in the dark with the want to escape many more times. And this time, each time, to you, addiction, monster that would have me trapped in your grip, I will say no. I do not belong to you. This is over.

I am free.


(I originally wrote this last night, right after the previous post, but it is fitting for today, no?)

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"What in the world's come over me?"

Having a boyfriend who's so thin makes me want to cry. Or stop eating for a week. Or stick my fingers down my throat.

Whatever works.

Because I'm scared he'll judge me like I judge myself; that even though he likes me it won't be enough just because I'm not that pretty and my body isn't that great either and I'm scared that he'll realise I'm not so hot and not someone he wants to be seen with (which he doesn't anyway by his relatives and the like but that's for a perfectly justifiable reason aka although he's 18 he's not allowed to date and would be shot if he was found to), and he will stop liking me.

It is so much easier to be confident when we were just friends with benefits coz damn, I knew he wouldn't kiss me if he didn't find me attractive. And I know it makes no sense as to why he would lose that now that we're a couple, but I've never been one to work by logic, even at the best of times.

I hate that I care so much. But this relationship has been a long long time coming, even though I never thought it actually would, and I want it to last for a long, long time too...

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Update, Because I Suck at Post Titles.

Well, guys, I meant to post yesterday, but my mind was extremely sleep deprived and words weren't making sense coming out of my mouth. Eight hours of sleep over two nights will do that to you. Or me, at least.

I'm not much better today and if I'd had access to a computer in the morning at school, you'd all have had the many joys of reading another self-pity post. However, many factors contributed, including the lack of sleep. I got my period later today so I guess that was a problem but I also didn't take my Vitamin D tablets the day before and I think that actually had a huge impact... which is slightly worrying. I also overreact to things a lot. What can I say, I'm an overly sensitive soul... To the point where if I actually told people about certain things I get upset over I would be shot. Really.

A friend of mine keeps joking about how I talk too much and wonders why she is even friends with me. I know I know I know that it is just a joke and sometimes I am highly irritating but when it reflects how I used to feel and when I am as already low as I have been, I don't really take it too well, although I try to hide it, how successful I am I can't say. Just little things like that...

I've also, in case you haven't noticed with a post last week or so, I've been breaking things accidentally and being even more clumsy than usual, walking into things, spilling other people's drinks while they are holding it, dropping everything, and it makes me kind of feel like a fuck up at life. It's just getting so bad that it's past the point of amusing. So that has been making me feel sad.

I'm so stupid, I always manage to let little things upset me, even when there are good things happening! Because, I have news. Good news (:

I am going out with Jimit... Which I'm very happy about, and will probably go into more in another post later. I never thought it would actually happen, although we talked about it. But I'm glad it has.

Vinnie, Kathleen's friend who I kinda have a little thing for, but we don't know each other well enough to be anything more than friends, although we get along really well, is planning to ask me to formal at his school. Which, for those of you not from Australia, is prom. Of course, I'm not supposed to know about it yet, but Kat gave me a heads up, obviously. And the thing is, Kat and I were planning to get him to ask me, since both of us wanted me to go, because she goes to the same school as he does. So when he mentioned to her that he wanted to ask me, she was pretty excited, and so was I, in turn.

And the best thing of all, kinda, is that I started talking to those best friends two nights ago. When I say I started, it was more that they initiated it, because, well, I hadn't really had a chance to get around to trying to work out how to talk. Sure, it was only via MSN, but that's better than nothing, right? Only, I wasn't online last night, since... well, I barely ever use it anymore because I only ever really used it to talk to the exbestfriend and one of them, since the other couldn't get internet access at her house at the time. And as to why I say kinda is because I am the paranoid type, who is very unsure. What if they thought it sucked? Since I've seen one of them at school in the two days since, do I say hi? I haven't really been able to since we haven't made eye contact or that kind of thing, you know those awkward moments... So what do I do? I don't know and I'm so nervous and unsure.

Okay. Now that, I've got all of this out on my blog so you know what's happening, I can no longer put off writing a Poetry oral that I must do tomorrow for English Studies. I despise Poetry... Wish me luck!

Night xx

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Regret, or something like it.

Referring back to this incident, even at the time, in my inebriated state, I knew I was going to regret it. As I have already said. But there is more to it.

I've always wanted to make other people happy. I've always wanted everyone to like me. Even if I didn't like them. I hatehatehate being disliked or looked down on by anyone, and this is often conflicting for me. I'll still often do things I don't want to do and aren't necessarily good for me either, simply because it's what the other person wants. But if you make me feel needed, loved, pretty, wanted, or anything positive, you're almost definitely going to get whatever it is you want. Conversely, I feel guilty very easily so you can play that card too. I know, I should stand up for myself, but I have this slight neediness when it comes to other people... Working on it, kinda.

That night, I remember MF saying that he had hoped this would happen. My mental reaction was to raise my eyebrows, but god only knows what expression was plastered across my face. I remember him saying that he found me really hot and he had wanted to get with me but hadn't expected that he could... I remember thinking that he was just saying this because he really just wanted to get laid but at that moment I would just pretend he meant it and accept it even though I didn't believe it. I remember thinking that I was pathetic to be so desperately needy for compliments and to feel desirable that I would compromise my values and my self-worth just so I could pretend I was wanted for a while.

I remember how gentle he acted and how he looked worried and kept saying he didn't want to hurt me, and yet it was really too late anyway, because it hurt so much, but at the time I didn't care, and I knew that was ridiculous. I remember him saying that he felt bad for me because I kept calling the ExBestFriend and only getting through to his voicemail, and my thinking that he probably actually couldn't care less.

I remember rambling about how I was so very drunk and that I got drunk so fast, thinking that being such a lightweight was embarrassing, and him saying that he wasn't that drunk. I remember hating the idea of that because it was unfair, and he knew what he was doing and that showed his lack of respect for me even though I agreed to it, and because he would be able to better remember it afterwards, when I knew I would want to forget it utterly.

And throughout it all I was trying, and failing, to berate myself for this, wondering why I didn't care at the moment, even though I knew I would later, and trying to make myself so that I would stop; wondering what was wrong with me and how much I would hate myself for this later. But at the time I just didn't care.

And that is what has me so perplexed that I still cannot get my head around it...

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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

xx

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Can I please at least have this?

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.

kthnxfuckyouall

but not really.

fuckfuckshitfuck

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Marks of Madness,

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.

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"The reason is you"

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".

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"You're worth,
losing my self esteem."

I have been giving myself away too cheaply, too easily. Of course, this makes me sounds like a slut realising that she could make more money out of it as a whore, but that is not exactly what I am referring to...

I'm so sick of violence. So sick of fighting, and pain. Sick of bad decisions on my part that leave me feeling hollow, empty. I'm sick of realisng afterward just how much I'm going to regret my choices and actions. Of how I keep trying to deaden the feelings and how the emptiness is fed by it.

A remotely violent movie has me upset and on the verge of crying. I feel so fragile these days, with flashes of memory leaving me regretful.

I also want to avoid most of my male friends since it seems that I cannot have a relationship with a guy that will stay a mere friendship... It always tends to become at least slightly more. The only friend I can say that hasn't happened with, who is single, is Nick; and of course Greg during the few months he was single, but since I truly consider him to be my brother, that's just not even plausible. I want to have a simple friendship with a guy, like I had with the ex best friend. Even though we did hook up but that wasn't anything. Well, it kinda was. But it was irrelevant to our friendship. It is also very highly irritating to have one's boobs named... by a friend from church, something I find a little odd.

Then, on Friday I went to the movies with a guy who I met at that community service week but only talked to on the last day, he was nice; but then, he kissed me. WHY? I'm not that attractive (I'm being perfectly honest, I was studying my face completely objectively on webcam to a friend the other night... >;D) and okay I'd say my personality's pretty decent, or at least, seems so at first ;P but, really, are you just desperate???

Okay, I may not have discouraged him when he went to hold my hand and then put his arm around me, but what was I supposed to do? Just move away? Sure, that may have been an option, but that would have been so awkward afterwards; and really, I am terrible at reacting to anything of that kind...

I won't lie, I like attention from guys. But at the same time it makes me want to run away. I am not comfortable with it and I am terrified that they may actually even end up liking me... because then they might want a relationship. And I'm dead scared of being in a relationship. I don't think I'd be a very good girlfriend...

But at the same time I am rapidly getting tired of random hook ups and the like, the friends with benefits type thing...

And really, I'm not that hot. I like you saying that a couple of times. After that, it scares me. And triggers the flight instinct. Plus, you obviously aren't paying that much attention.

This wasn't meant to be a post about guys. haha

I've been thinking about God a lot lately. I'm sick of doing things my way and just making a mess of my life, and I want someone who knows better and wants what's best for me to take over; but I'm not sure quite what's stopping me. I don't think I'm quite ready. But I want to be. I really do, so much. I've got almost everything sorted out, but not the singular most important detail. I'm not worried about just following my parents' beliefs anymore, because I know that is definitely not relevant to my decision. I mean, it's obviously had an influence but what I decide is based on what I feel is real, and there's a lot of proof...

It's just still about making it personal. I don't know how to do that.

P.S. ACTUAL LOL - my sister just asked my mum, "Have you even got any in the last three years???" I'm absolutely certain I've taken that completely out of context, but I'm highly amused >;D

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"Well, she's not bleeding on the ballroom floor..."

"...just for the attention,
'Cause that's just ridiculous..."

For those of you who don't know, I saw a counsellor a few times after my overdose on painkillers. Maybe four, maybe five. And also for those of you who don't know, I was not trying to kill myself. But, I liked this counsellor. I felt guilty for having to see her, when it cost my parents so much. But they wanted me to get better. And I wanted to get better. And hopefully even fix things amongst our family somewhat. However, most of you will know, as well as I, that seeing a counsellor is not something you do just a couple of times. If you want a quick fix, it's better to go in for drugs, or hypnotherapy, or crazy altering-chemicals-in-your-body type stuff. If you want to see a counsellor and work through problems, it is a long term thing. It takes time, and patience. Four or five visits to a counsellor is just the start.

I'm not crazy and I'm not suicidal; I don't even necessarily have depression, but yes, I have seen a counsellor. And, it wasn't actually a waste of time. It was helpful. Not every counsellor will be helpful to you personally, and different people "click" better with others. But that's all rather irrelevant. I'm just trying to do my bit to beat down the stigma our society associates with counsellors etc. But more on that another time.

Sometimes, I don't feel up to taking that responsibility that seeing a counsellor engenders. It means having to actually take action, to stop relying on others. Because you have to put in effort.

And sometimes, I don't feel like I have that much within me. I don't think I can keep going. It feels too hard and I want to give up. When, like me, you are desperate to know that you are loved, you will sometimes go to shocking lengths to be assured of this. It didn't begin as this, but the ways in which I hurt myself physically ended up serving another cause, when those around me found out, seeing how they were upset told me that they cared. I already knew they cared about me. They expressed it enough. But for me, that wasn't quite enough.

When I say that my friends "found out", I mean, generally, that I would tell them. Or I would drop hints or not quite hide what I had done. I hated myself for it, for making them upset. It was yet another thing to prove I was a terrible person; that I would let them know. More ammunition to use against myself. I didn't want to be attention seeking, but honestly, that is what I was doing, in that aspect of my self harm, at least. I suppose you could say I was slightly manipulative as well. But I didn't have much control over it. Each time I determined that no one would know, and almost each time, I would let at least one person know. Sometimes not for weeks, months even. But I would eventually fold.

I don't suppose I could have hidden the guilt I felt for betraying them, which is what I did every time I self harmed, even if I had truly tried. I let myself give in and tell them because secretly, that was what a large part of me wanted. Even when I didn't realise it.

Anyway, it is this need to be assured of others' love for me that led me to being heavily reliant on them. I needed their reaction to my actions as motivation to stop self harming, I needed them to help distract me when I wanted to self harm but was trying not to. I used my friends as a crutch (no one please think of the other crutch! >.<) and let myself go on feeling sorry for myself. That's the truth.

Sometimes it feels too hopeless, too hard to go on. But I know I am stronger than I think. It is up to me to keep going, not to give in as I did when trying not to tell my friends about my self harm. Because if I had wanted, I could have not told them. And if I had truly wanted, I could have stopped myself from self harming, each time. But I was scared to take responsibility, because that meant that things could be my fault. I hate being wrong. It's not that I feel I am better than others, rather, that I want to please everyone, and if I make a mistake, I am letting others down. It's why I hate team sport so much, because I was always the one who would let everyone down (apart from in soccer, I love that game C:).

In those respects, I was (and still am, in other ways) a little child. I still sometimes want to be the vulnerable one who will be in a position where (hopefully) others will protect her, and she can know by this that they care, and she matters. But I am learning to tell myself just how ridiculous that is, and do some standing up for myself.

There are the times I feel so weak and I want to hand over my problems to someone else and tell them to fix them, but that is not possible, and if I'm honest, I know I can hold out, even if it won't be easy. It is up to me whether I stand firm or break.

With all of this, I sometimes wished I would just be given anti-depressants or something. Not that I'm saying they are the easy way out; sometimes they are necessary. But I'm not keen on drugs and things that alter the body's functions and I knew I could do it otherwise, although it would be harder, longer, and more frustrating. So I was glad to be seeing a counsellor. They do help, but only if you let them, if you take on board what they say and apply it. And I was ready for that. I was ready to move forward, no matter how hard it was. And sort out stuff that I hadn't been able to sort out in my own mind. We all know the saying about not seeing the wood for the trees. A distanced person could lend a valuable perspective and I wanted that.

I had thought about counselling long before, but I couldn't bring myself to ask my parents about it. That would involve first convincing them I had things I needed to work through, and then that it should be done professionally, etc. So I was, in a way, grateful at the chance my overdose gave me. I thought that even this stupid thing I had done could be the very thing that helped me. I had to have follow up counselling. I had to confront things, I couldn't avoid it, and I didn't even have to bring it up personally!

I hadn't seen my counsellor since before Christmas as she was going away on holidays, and said just to make an appointment when she got back, whenever. Well, she's been back for a long time. I wanted to see her again, but Mum didn't bring it up, and I was dead against bringing it up myself. I'm not good at broaching certain (most) remotely sensitive subjects with my parents, particularly my mother, and I really didn't want to do this. She had made it clear she thought I was better. That I only "caused all this trouble during school" and she thought that when school started again, "her and Dad would have to endure the nightmare again". "You've put us through hell... you've caused us so much heartache... you've caused your dad so much stress that with his high cholestrol he could have a heart attack... (or, rather more bluntly) you'll kill your father..." And so it goes. My mother is not the most... er, understanding or tactful soul... Yet, while I am an absolute sucker for guilt trips (I felt guilty for eating or attacking in any other way my friend in some Wii game we were playing at his house, even though it was part of what my character had to do in order to beat him - Super Smashed Bros Brawl, if you were wondering), I refuse to let my mum's work. Of course, some still slip in past my barriers.

I didn't exactly want to explain to my mother that no, not everything was alright, and no, it had a grand total of nothing to do with school vs. holidays, but it was an ongoing thing with many issues and this matter with my friends was only a very small part of it. I made half hearted attempts to counter her nightmare statements by saying "it's not anything to do with school", and her "you seem just fine now that it's the holidays" with "how would you know"s, but I would back out and run for the hills the moment she demanded what exactly I meant.

I finally asked her if she could make a counsellor's appointment, and she was very reluctant. I was a bit stunned as she asked me how many more times I could go see the counsellor. I know it's expensive but there is absolutely no point in going a few times, it is an ongoing process! She doesn't see anything really wrong with me, which also contributes to it, but I know that I need this. I can get by without it, but to truly fix things, it would be of great help. And I love the chance to have someone get to know so much about me; practically everything, and accept it. I've realised that it is something I long for, because it would be a true mark that I am worth it, that I am an okay person; valuable, and all that.

This was over two weeks ago, and I asked her yesterday if she had made an appointment because in the end she said something which sounded like a grudging acquiescence, and she told me that she hadn't.

I don't want to say this, I don't want to feel this; but I'm disappointed and it feels like a betrayal on my mother's part. She should want me to get better. I know it is just because she can't tell anything is wrong, if I was physically sick her and Dad would spend everything they had to help me become well; but this is different and it's not as simple or as obvious as physical illness. Not that I'd say I'm mentally unwell, but still.

Sighh.

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Interview

That Damn Expat kindly put together an interview for me (ages ago, sorry for just getting around to it). If I were you and hadn't already done so, I'd check out her blog ^_^

So anyway, here are the interview rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Interview begins here (:

1. I've only been reading your blog for a few days. Introduce yourself in five sentences or less.
I'm sixteen years old and I find myself wanting to please others even more than sometimes doing what I know is right, which leads to a lot of mistakes made on my part, but I am learning to (hopefully) be a better person. I believe in God but I am a little bit confused on more of the specifics, I don't want to buy into Christianity because of my parents, but I want my own, personal faith; and the whole beliefs thing does affect quite a large portion of my life. I am very open about my emotions and events in my life, and perhaps don't always know when to keep my mouth shut. I am a very contradictory person, and although I'll always apologise first, I do hate to admit I'm wrong. I also attach sentimental value to everything, meaning I find it very hard when it comes to getting rid of things; but I like the physicality it lends to memories. I'm never quite the same today as I was yesterday, but I'm sure there are some things about me that will never change.

2. You have had some problems that you openly blog about. What is the one thing you learned about yourself through this ordeal?
I have slowly been learning to stop basing my self value on others' opinions of me, and rely more on myself. I am listening less and less to that voice that tells me I am insignificant and merely a burden to others; and I have learned that hope is always there, although sometimes we can't see it. Life is worth living and I do not plan on giving that up anytime soon.
I have also learned that I am stronger than I thought; for those of you who haven't been reading my blog for very long, I used to self harm, which is a very technical term that doesn't, I feel, really encompass all the issues behind it. I had tried to stop a few times before, but it was only when I decided to stop because I deserved better and I knew that I was worth more, even when I didn't truly believe that; when I decided to stop for my own sake, that I could do it. And I truly knew I could do it. Although there have been times when I have almost given in, I have held out. I'm not saying that I have stopped for good, there may be a time when I do give in. But I know I have the strength to keep going, and everytime I fall, there will be a chance for me to get up and move on. I have, in the past, relied on others as my motivation to keep going, but I understand that that was a way of shirking responsibility; quite simply, I was being lazy.
I'm much happier with myself these days and I feel I can be a better friend because I think I'm a decent person.
I make a lot of mistakes and screw up a lot, but there is still hope, and that's what I will always cling to. (:
That was probably a bit over the top lol

3. Who is the one person/author that had the biggest influence on your writing?
I'm not entirely sure, since I was 6 I have absolutely loved reading and writing, up until the age of 12 I used to read near constantly, I'd read anything I could get my hands on. I'd go through over 50 books in less than a week, children and teenage fiction, but I started reading adult fiction at 13. I used to (and still do) adore Enid Blyton books, the adventures that happened at the lands atop the Faraway Tree and in the places the Wishing Chair would take Molly and Peter were some of my favourites, and her school stories are the reason I really wish I went to boarding school. As for my parents, they've always encouraged me to write, and my dad used to proof read my stories and suggest improvements, which was great (:
I can't really think of any one person who influenced my writing specifically, but along with Enid Blyton I devoured Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys novels on a regular basis,

4. If you could do anything you want after high school, what would it be?
I would love to work with To Write Love On Her Arms to be able to spread their message of hope and community in such an amazing way, they truly are life changing and have had a massive impact on my life and many others. But, I would really like to have a career where I can help people in whatever way is best. I am considering a University course in Nursing, or perhaps Occupational Therapy, although I need to look into that more.
I definitely want to go to Uni, but first I need to get through Year 12!
Other than education and career wise, I'm not really sure. Travelling would be nice but I would need the money first and I want someone really fun to do it with. Road trips are part of the plan but a major international trip, even just to New Zealand, would be fabulous, perhaps with my best friend from primary school (:
I do eventually want a family, but I'm not really sure when. I don't feel the need to stringently plan out my future, but I do know that I don't ever want to be alone; which means not moving out of my parents' home till I have friends who I can live with, and since my parents aren't keen for me to move out too early, that shan't be happening for ages, which I am fine with.

5. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?

I'm not sure, I have thought about this before, but truthfully, I haven't seen that much of the world, there are so many possibilties out there that I still haven't explored. Adelaide is wonderful for growing up in, but I don't want to live in one city for my entire life; there are so many places to go and they're all so different. I love Australia, it is my home, but I'm not ruling out living in another country for some time...
I try not to worry too much about the future (:

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Question;

Who makes me the happiest?

a) Justin

b) Jake, back in the day

c) Jimit

d) James


Answer: Justin or Jake.
I only really threw James in so you can notice the weird thing I seem to have for guys whose names start with J, although he's great, we just aren't that close.
Jimit is easily ruled out, it irritates me how he never talks about important stuff. Just everyday things, I don't really like relationships of any kind without that deeper aspect, especially when you've been friends for over a year. Even though when I liked him he made me heaps happy. But not as much as Jake.
Seeing Jake or talking to him always made me smile, I was devastated everytime he was sad or angry at me even. With Justin, things are much the same, I respect him and look up to him so much, any positive word from him sends me over the moon. I feel valuable because he cares about me, some teenager among 60 others who he knew for less than a working week and bared her soul to him, over myspace, because she trusted him completely. And never regretted it. He has helped me through some really hard times since.
Justin is someone you immediately trust, immediately feel at ease with; and within a short amount of time you find yourself wanting to spill everything to him. He is so genuine, so caring, such an example of God's work through people. But yeah. Jake was amazing too. In a different context. So idk.

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Sometimes I prefer older people than those my age

Seriously, half the time, at this community service week (it finishes at 6PM rather than 9PM both tonight and tomorrow), I would prefer to spend time with Justin and my other leaders than people my age. I love other teens, don't get me wrong. Like my new friend Monika, who turns 15 tomorrow. She's 14. That seems insanely young... And then there are Amber and her boyfriend Luke (who is sooo cute /dies), who are 15. Cale, who is in year 10 this year at my school (although I've never seen him around before although he's seen me lol), so he's 2 years below me in school, is 15 and a half. He constantly sounds like he has a sore throat, and he has really long dark hair that should probably be cut, which he is getting done on Saturday (and I hate when guys get their hair cut coz it rarely looks good), and braces and a tiny bit of acne; but like I said he's really nice. And a little bit of a flirt...

I hate being friends with guys who are flirts, even without meaning to be, because I think I start flirting with them back, without realising. Although, apparently I flirt with guys heaps, but I've never noticed that I do. Yet, so my friends tell me. And I think I do, looking back, but I really don't mean to. It's just kinda how I am with guys near my age, unless I am completely un-attracted to them or they are my friend's boyfriend or something. Although I guess I still act the same way around them anyway.

But. Justin. I'd pick him anytime. And my other leader, Kristen, is amazing too, although she's just 19. Most of the leaders are awesome. James Bowden is also fantastic, so mature for his age (21).

Today, my friend's younger sister told me that I was really pretty. I was like, uhm. Because her (and her twin) are both absolutely gorgeous. Haha that was a whoa moment for me.

For those of you who don't know, Justin was my small group leader when my friend and I did Big Week Out two years ago. We adored him and spent most of the week with him. He is now 28. When we first met him he was already married to a chaplain, and he was a youth worker. He is really smart, caring, fun, nice; basically everything good. I look up to him so much. I have told him almost everything; not the recent friends thing, but about my self harm since even before it became serious, my issues with myself and my mother, with God. He has been a great help, and there for me in those two years whenever I have reached out to him. He's offered to teach me to learn to drive in a manual, although I'm not sure how serious he was. But how cool would that be? Especially if it means I would get to see him after Big Week Out! He is the most amazing person, and if I could spend all of BWO with him, I would. He's pretty busy with organising things for it though. He was my event leader today (we did an afternoon today and painted over graffiti), and after our event, back at the base, Cale and I were sitting together in one chair (a tiny bit squashed, but he was warm and so I was comfy), and Justin was sitting next to us talking. I haven't really talked to Justin much this BWO, which I'm so disappointed about. Hopefully I will.
He noticed that I wasn't eating lunch today, and he knows about my hating to eat and all the reasons why; but I walked away from him so he couldn't make me eat something. But I love that he cares about me.
Tomorrow I am donating blood, which I am really excited about. Not having eaten much, it may be a problem but we'll see. Since Tuesday I've eaten two chocolate bars and a handful of shredded cheese (I was hungry when I got home today), and we shall see how it goes tomorrow. I hate eating during school time anyway, and really, I have put on so much weight.
I know, it's not a good idea, it doesn't work, and all that. People have been telling me that for far longer than I've known Justin. But... I just don't know.

So anyway, Cale. I have noticed that I have a problem in which, when practically any guy starts to show interest in me, I consider the potential for something more than friendship. I don't want a relationship. But you know what I'm like in desperately needed to feel like I'm good enough, and if a guy likes me, that makes me feel like I'm pretty enough and am acceptable as a person; although I also partly think that they are somewhat deluded... usually, I will end up liking them in return, at least for a while. I also don't have very many guy friends. So when I do, I kinda want them to like me, even if I don't like them. Because like I said, it makes me feel good enough. Even though I'm still scared I'll never fall in and stay in love with someone who will love me back the same way.

Completely off topic - You know what, I almost feel ready to listen to "Rise Above This" again. It is my all time favourite song (thus far), seconded by "The Way She Feels" by Between the Trees. Rise Above This by Seether is the song that gives me hope and courage to live, no matter what happens. It's a song I haven't listened to in over five months, since things fucked up went to hell with my three best friends. (I didn't want to want to keep going. It also reminded me of one of them, the one I post about the most, since he also liked it.) If you're interested, take a look at the official music video on YouTube, it's amazing; about a boy considering killing himself. Or, here are the lyrics (Yes, they are pretty elementary, but still) -

"Take the light, and darken everything around me
call the clouds 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"


Apologies for any typos or errors, it's a mere copy paste.


As for specifics on Big Week Out, tomorrow. It's been great so far (:

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Pretty as a Picture

As a little girl (hey I'm a teenager now kay?? i'm like, all grown up and don't need anyone to tell me what to do, i know all ;P I swear, we're not like that all the time!!! It's a largely untrue stereotype, honest to God! lol), I never really cared what I looked like. I wasn't into dressing up, make up and handbags, high heels and pretending to be a princess. I'd dress up my Barbie dolls, but then I'd make some boys (my parents wouldn't buy my sister and I boy dolls haha) so I could act out my stories that I made up for them. I wasn't quite able to ignore the fact that they were still so obviously female, even when I cut their hair short and dressed them in t-shirts and shorts I made out of tissues and sticky tape, or even, haphazardly sewed, or stapled, spare pieces of material (I was creative!). But I wasn't big on caring about looks.

My mum did my hair for me until I was eleven. My parents chose my clothes until I was in year 6, although I was given choices. But it didn't really matter to me.

I don't know when looks became so important to me. In year seven I emerged out of my shyness to make some friends at school, just before leaving to go to high school. What I do remember is how much I hated myself.

We had a year seven reunion today, about three quarters of our year seven class turned up. We were looking at a Powerpoint where, in year seven, we had each made two pages with pictures of ourselves and written a little bit about us and our primary school memories. What struck me about mine was that under "Dislikes", I had written "Me". I was a little bemused by that, seeing how open I had been about it then. I remember telling my friends on a regular basis how I didn't feel they should be friends with me, how I was a "loser", and whatever other words were derogatory at the time. I'd talk about it all the time, I felt I wasn't worth them. I didn't deserve to be cared about. I was twelve.

I think that because I had been so shy and without many friends all these years, that I felt, subconsciously, when I did make friends, that I couldn't deserve them. If I hadn't before, why would I now? I was just a little more visible. And realising that I was desperate to be noticed, accepted.

It was in about year seven that I began considering my weight. I've never really been one to read magazines. Our family didn't even own a TV for the first eight years of my life, because they thought it had too many bad influences, which I'm inclined to agree with, to a point. Sure, with my new found friends, I would look through their glossy new "Girlfriend"s every month, but it seemed pretty stupid, even then. I don't really find pictures of models and celebrities to be something I desire to look like. I am aware of the falsity of those images, the pressure and extreme measures taken to be that thin, etc.

No, where I began to care about my weight came from somewhere much closer than that. My mum. I remember, in year six or seven, one of her comments as I walked into the room where she was sitting, "You look pregnant!" My mum has never been one for tact.

I haven't forgotten this yet, obviously, because no matter how much I tried to ignore this, it attacked me somewhere deep inside. How easily we remember past wounds! I know I remember hurtful words clearly, while forgetting kind mentions. This in part is due to how I would seize upon any negativity from others and twist it, digging the arrow in deeper. My worst enemy has been myself, but with others lending weight to the negative thoughts about myself, I was trying to protect myself by making sure their messages stuck, that I would remember. How is that protection? So that I would not embarrass myself, that I would not delude myself into thinking I was pretty, an acceptable body shape, and possibly even reveal that I thought so, when it wasn't true. I was driving home these "truths" so that this embarrassment could not occur, for if I thought I was better than I was and others saw that, would they not just deride and scorn me? And although I thought I was not deserving of these friends of mine, that did not mean I didn't want them. I did, oh I did! To feel loved, it was wonderful. How selfish of me, to want friends who I would only bring down through our friendship. Yet another thing I must hide deep within, another shameful secret to bury. I didn't want to be selfish.

I don't know about you, but one thing I learned from my peers was that belittling yourself was a good thing. If someone complimented you, you would disagree. "You're so pretty." "No, I'm not,", before listing imperfections which proved why the girl in question could not be pretty. Being smart was something I learned to hide early, no one wants to be a "nerd", not even me, who would read at recess and lunch, while walking home, and through the holidays until she was ten or eleven. Even accepting a compliment, in my mind, has come to seem conceited. Even if what is stated is true. It's ridiculous, I know. But from my subconscious observations of others, this is what I put together.

And also, putting yourself down got you assurances. For, even if you thought badly of yourself, if you were wrong others would tell you so. So, even, as I told myself that these reassurances were just what my friends were saying to be nice (After all, they were nice enough to be friends with me, and who on earth could be so nice that they would befriend someone like me?); a small part of me hoped, and wanted to believe that they meant what they said in all honesty, that they were right.

My mum has told me time and time again how I am putting on weight, how if I keep eating the way I do and not exercising, I will end up unable to walk from how fat I am by the age of 20, how fat I am getting, how much I am "expanding", etc. She is always bugging me to exercise.

Why won't I?

For a start, I have never really been good at sports. This makes for being extremely embarrassing for such a shy girl. The public humiliation of always being picked last for a team, of letting down the team, was something I hated. Standing there unwanted, because I wasn't good enough, isn't that enough to make anyone cringe? People tend to either act like they don't care, and play even worse on purpose, or, like me, avoid being placed in such a situation as much as possible. I knew the only way to get better was through practice, but through practice I'd have to play, and I couldn't do that. I have engaged in sports over my primary school life, swimming, tennis, and soccer. But it was worse because my dad was really good at sport, in particular soccer. I wanted to make him proud of me by being like him, good at soccer. I love watching soccer, and playing it. However, for a long time, I didn't want him to see that I was bad at it, as I knew I would be, and so I wouldn't play soccer with him. In year seven I actually did play soccer for the under 13's or 14's girls for school, and it turned out I was a decent defender. It was fun, our team was good, and we won the majority of our games. Come high school and we didn't really have any teams, and I knew I wasn't good enough to play for a club. I was scared to try out since I was scared to be rejected. However, I did organise for my friends and their parents and my dad and people from my church to play soccer most Saturdays for approximately the next two years. It wasn't as skilled, teams were unevenly numbered and sometimes there were barely any people, but it was fun. That eventually petered out.

Reason Two: My mother and I have had a fairly turbulent relationship for most of my adolescent life, just to break the stereotype haha. We argue about a lot of things, but to me, if I exercised, it would mean that she had won. She would know that she had gotten to me, with everything she said. I would have lost. That would never do. So I would lose weight in my own way, and I would be happy and so would she. But I would not let her win. Her telling me about my weight was not going to get to me. It did. But she would only win if she knew how that affected me. I could not allow that.

Why? Why did it matter if she wanted me to exercise? I could have. It shouldn't have mattered who suggested it, when it was the healthy way to go.

I'm still not sure what the reasoning is behind this "not letting her win" thing that I have.

I know she only means well. She wants me to be healthy, and fit, and not overridden with diseases and weak before my old age. She wants me to have the best in life. But, she is blunt in typical Indian manner, and my easily hurt self has been wounded deeply. I am trying to gain self-worth. I am trying to believe that beauty is from within, and that outer beauty doesn't really matter, that it fades anyway. That true beauty comes from the heart and overflows to the outside. A beautiful soul is the most important thing. I know this. But I still can't abandon my foolish fears.

I want to look nice because I want other people to like me. I'm scared that if I don't look nice no one will want to be around me. I know people aren't that shallow, but I need to be accepted so much. It's somewhat irrational.

The End, for now.

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I'm trying to be positive.

I swear. I try so hard.
But I see the pictures of the life you're living without me, and the fun that you're having, without me. And it doesn't matter to you.
And I wish I didn't exist.
You make me feel like I don't.
That I may as well not.
And I want to live.
I want to take hold of life with both hands and live it to the fullest, as fiercely as I can.
But it's hard when you can dismiss me and my attempts to fix things so easily.
When the people who mean the most to me are suddenly absent from my life and I find myself feeling guilty for being able to laugh while this situation stretches on. For being happy even without them. I have the right to be happy without them. But I don't want to let myself.
I always said I couldn't live without you. And when I found out I could, that seemed to me the greatest betrayal I could make. So I set out to prove myself right.
I don't want to live without you, no. I will miss you no matter what. But I want to prove that I will be constantly miserable without you. To who? For what purpose?
Is it really all some kind of pathetic thought that if they see how much I need them they will come back?
I don't know.
I don't know what I'm thinking.

I'm sorry. I know. I've been posting about this several times a week since I began this blog. But it's been in my thoughts every hour of every day for the last five, almost six months. It's not getting much easier for me. They still mean so much to me. And as such, they are something I will continue to write about.

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"This love has taken its toll on me"

Why have I been awake since 5 AM? A dream. A dream so ridiculously realistic I (for the first time) didn't know where I was when I woke. I tried writing about it, but it didn't seem right. So I shall try again later.

Acceptance. I desperately, obviously, pathetically long for acceptance. I thought that was more of a particular need of mine, and the way I go about feeling wanted and needed is most certainly not common to everyone. However, I have been reading a book called "Soul Cravings" by Erwin Raphael McManus. It, essentially, looks at the three things that we as humans desire most, at the core of our beings, and attempt to find throughout life. It looks at our "quest for love, quest for destiny, and a quest for meaning". The part on love, at least, is brilliant.

I have skipped to "meaning" and it's not so great for now. But love. It's amazing how much of what has been writing in this section are ideas I have thought, expressed; or if not, resonated within me as something incredibly true. I have begun to understand just a little more of why I do the things I do.

I am an attention seeker. I know I am, however much I hate it. I don't ask for attention in entirely overt ways, but you can see it in the things I do. I don't want to ask for attention, as such, because that would be beside the point for me. Which point?

I have a desperate need to feel loved, wanted, needed. I hate how needy I am. But doesn't everyone need this, after all? Perhaps they don't feel it so consciously as I, but deep within us all, we desire others to value us. We need to be needed. It validates us. It makes our lives meaningful. Of course, there are other things that also give our lives meaning, and we can't live without meaning either; but relationships are a necessary part of humanity. You can deny it, but we are relational creatures.

We may turn our backs on this need, seek to isolate ourselves from everyone else, saying that we don't need anyone else. But why do we do this? Because we have been hurt by others. Which can only happen when we care about others, when we have relationships with others. When we feel the pain is too much to take, we can easily turn away. But turning away doesn't remove our need for others. We were made to be together, to interact, to love. There is an emptiness that comes from somewhere inside us, when there is something of love we are missing.

We abuse love, mistake love, throw away love, ignore and forget love; but at the end of the day, if we don't have love, what do we have?

"The great danger of giving up on love is that we begin to give in to hate. A place where there is no love is toxic to the soul.

When we love, we are moved toward forgiveness.When we allow hate to take over, we begin to live for vengeance."

A life lived in hatred is not my idea of life. It seems like a life where something essential has died, leaving a blackness, a deadness. Forgiveness is important to me. Not forgiveness in which we continue allow ourselves to be hurt. But forgiveness where we accept what another, or we, have done to ourselves or others, acknowledge the hurt, but let it go. It is one of the hardest things to accomplish, forgiving someone who has truly hurt us. And yet, one of the best things we can do in our lives. Sometimes forgiveness just doesn't come in one hit. And it's not always a one off act. You may need to forgive one act, one person, continually. Every minute, every hour, every day, you may wake up and have to forgive. Letting go of pain doesn't come about that easily. But in the end it is the best course to take.

Love is abused.

"Love isn't about volume. Love isn't about conquest. When we live like this [talking about "womanisers"], there's something deeper going on inside us that we're trying to ignore, even drown out. We are alone, disconnected, and deficient in love. Deep down inside we know we cannot fill the vacuum within our souls by consuming people. We are not only robbing others, we are pillaging our own souls.

Eventually it hits you: you cannot take love; you have to give it. Love is a gift that cannot be stolen".

We crave love, and I can see this in my own life, in the lives of people around me, in the writings of people I don't even know.

"How can you make sense of a person who moves from one relationship to another, making her body the object of another's pleasure of abuse, except to acknowledge the painful reality that human beings fear almost nothing more than being alone [On women in abusive relationships]?"

Love is an endless topic and I have much to say; the idea of such a mixture is somewhat terrifying, but it is 6.53 in the morning and I would like some sleep before church. So there will be a part two, I'm sure you're looking forward to it. ^_^ lol.

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I really need to get the hang of this blogging thing

I wouldn't say I'm doing toooo badly, considering my 26 followers (and 15 on my other blog!), however there is vast room for improvement. My posts are either too short, too long, without enough background information, whiny, sad, repetitive, confused... And to top it off, it's the 7th of January, and I've only posted three times thus far this month!? Usually it's more along the lines of three times a day...

Admittedly I have been away in Melbourne, and out as well a lot, but what I have posted lately anyway has been bland, uninteresting or merely quotes or stories from others... Poor form, poor form.

So, for the new year, I need a new name. For my blog. For the characters in my life on this blog ^_^. And to replace Tovoia ja Elaman!! >.< Something that will represent who I am, without revealing my identity. Then I can go back and alter all posts with his name in it, with anyone else's who could expose who I am lol. Although, reading my posts, after a while you could guess anyway, if you do know me.

I want your help for this, I have requested this before but this time I want ideas! So please, rack your brains and come up with something as I thus far have been unable to do...

I just sent a long email to Michael trying to explain just what my former best friend means to me and what our friendship was like, why I find it so hard to let go.

[Just an aside, my iTunes won't open /grits teeth nervously, stabs keyboard {My iTunes is precious to me, I have it at well over 4000 songs, due to careful nurturing and much Limewire and Torrent downloading; and as for my play counts... /holds protectively]

You know what? This iTunes matter is remotely urgent (of course that makes sense), and I think I'm going to have to restart. But no! I am downloading my iTunes update so I can't even do that for another 30 or so minutes... Sigh.  [My somewhat excessive downloading may or may not have lowered our broadband connection to dial up speed... again.]

I just recalled that I have Maths tuition homework I really should be doing rather than blogging. But it has been a long time since I have truly posted, I can't stop myself now... So I'll switch to Windows Media Player temporarily to continue listening to Bloodhound Gang (Ain't My Job on repeat, specifically; it amuses me), and console myself in regards to lost play counts with the thought that at least it will scrobble to Last.fm... And continue to ramble until Kathleen gets here.

Really, rambling is what I do best. I could write / talk for hours on a completely nonsensical topic and not run out of words. Which is a little unfortunate for any readers/listeners. Ah well.

I finally got my hair cut on the 30th,  I like it (: It's all choppy from the layers, just past my shoulders. I have black hair for those of you who don't know, and although I do now have to straighten it every day, it looks good ^_^ I might put a picture up when I have a good one, albeit temporarily. I also sometimes add a bright blue hair extension to my hair, that you can see under my layers, I won't try to explain as you may get a terrifying image in your minds, but again, a picture can assist. Temporarily.

Got my Learner's license today; the actual card. I don't look aaas bad as I thought I would, considering I thought the picture had already been taken and started to move, and my hair's kinda weird looking there (pre-haircut).

So, anyway, back to my email to Michael. Trying to describe my friend, I find myself lost in memories of him, of us. Can I ever really explain to anyone else what he was like, everything necessary to have a full idea of him? Would anyone ever be able to see him in the same way I do? I wanted to portray everything that could explain who he is, and what our friendship was.

He started talking to me now, and we had a brief conversation about Does It Offend You, Yeah? (band). Now, as it seems doomed to always be, our conversation is dead. I can't think of anything to say. Does he even want us to be as good friends as we were before? That is what I want to know more than anything, apart from "did / does he miss me at all???"

My self esteem is still better than ever before, to stop cutting myself, for me (!), what an incredible thing. I am still amazed at the thought of it, and yet, I did it, and continue to do so. It is hard. I come very close to breaking sometimes. But I'm still doing it. I'm pretty proud of myself for that. /embarrassed smile

But. Of course there was a 'but' coming. ;P With three of my best friends gone from my life, that leaves me with a lot of questions. I have already asked some of you these, but for the rest of you, "Did you miss me, at all??? Was it that easy to remove me from your lives, to replace me with each other, with others?? Am I that replaceable, that unneeded, that unnecessary??? Do you not even want me? Am I that expendable?" My head tells me no, even my heart kinda tells me no, but there's still that doubt. I feel like a child who is hurt and confused and yeah...

Anyway, Kathleen is here.

Ramblings can continue later (:

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Hello world, this is me

For those of you who have recently started following my blog or would just like to know more about me, this is a little info on who I am and an indication of some of the matters I have and will continue to blog about. (:

One more thing before I begin, thank you very much for following and leaving comments, it's a great encouragement (:



I laugh a little too loud at my own jokes, I love a little too recklessly, and accidentally push away those I care about far too often...

I'm a little idealistic, I want to believe the best of everyone. At the same time, I'm that tiny bit cynical.

I want attention but hate it when I get it; I'm incredibly optimistic for a negative person, and I'm just as much of a contradiction as I'm sure you are.

To say I'm over-dramatic is something of an understatement; I overreact to each small incident as though it's World War III...

I love using quotes and song lyrics to explain how I feel and what I believe in.

I wish on stars and 11.11, although I don't believe in it. Just in case. Maybe you'll come back. I'm waiting. Hoping. With no idea what else I can do anymore.

I use faces a lot while typing to express the tone in which I'm saying something, sorry if it's irritating but I'm using age as my excuse. The main ones you'll see me use are :) ;) :( (: >=( >=| ;P :P :@[angry] :$ which are mainly derived from MSN. Then, there are these, which rather than being 90degrees off, are to be looking at full on - >.< which is a glare and >.> a sideways glare. I'm not assuming you're stupid or anything; I didn't understand what they were without an explanation.

Hey, at least I don't text type! Incorrect grammar is something I hate. Remember, I'm Australian, so it's not a spelling error when I write things like "realised" rather than "realized" or "centre" instead of "center"; we measure our temperature in degrees Celsius, weight in mg/g/kg, length in cm/m/km, etc. Sorry if that sounded at all pompous, it wasn't meant to be.

I'm really easily peer pressured, it's probably a good thing that on the important matters I have friends I want to please equally who have opposite views, and I tend to side with the safer ones, at least for now.

Call me old fashioned but I believe that marriage is something that should last forever, while divorce is understandable in some cases, a lot of the times, problems can be worked out if that's what both parties really want. I want to marry someone who I know without a doubt I want to spend the rest of my life with, who will feel the same about me.

People are the most important thing, above popularity, wealth, success, above anything else; I strongly believe that every person is equal. This does not mean that everyone is equal in skill levels etc., but rather that as a human being, they have feelings, hopes, beliefs, and different things they can contribute to our global society, and as humans they are worth no more or no less than any other, whether royalty or homeless person.

Money and possessions don't guarantee happiness.

The movement "To Write Love On Her Arms" is something incredibly meaningful to me, I can't quite put into words just how much it means; for something that has helped me gain the courage to live life, to take a stand for myself against the very worst of me, to believe in hope and to keep going, how can I explain that? Renee Yohe, who is the reason the movement began, is someone I look up to greatly. Read her story here

I believe in the need for community, that we all need each other. We are made to interact and live with one another. We are meant to support and depend on each other as necessary. It is the best way to live, sharing each others' burdens.

I believe that "Global is not a nice idea. Global is reality", that we as humans need to put aside what society tells us is important - putting self before everyone else. For my blog on that, click here.

Jamie Tworkowski's [of To Write Love On Her Arms] blog on the subject is here.

I believe in God but I am not a Christian, although I believe in everything it is about and was brought up in Christian home.

I believe that everyone deserves forgiveness and a second chance. Perhaps even a third or fourth, perhaps even more. Whether a person is capable of forgiving someone harmful actions that many times is another matter. But people do change. And if we don't give everyone another chance when they request one, how will we ever know if they are one of those who deserve this chance, who will change? Maybe I'm a little too forgiving...

I used to self harm and while I have stopped now [since the 2nd of July, 2008], and I strongly believe for good, it is something which has overreaching consequences and I still struggle with the urges to. I had attempted to stop in previous years, but relapsed a couple of times, but I think I am strong enough and have the right motives for wanting to stop this time. This used to take the form of cutting, burning, hitting my head, overdosing on painkillers, etc. It is something I feel is not talked about enough and many people write it off as something done by someone seeking attention, or "emos" or those who are suicidal. This is not the case and I think it is important to raise awareness about the realities of this issue.

I am 16 years old and in 2009 will be starting my final year of high school. With my interests being literature and society and environment, I will be doing English Studies, Classical Studies, German and Biology/preferably Modern History. After high school I want to go to Uni. I think I would like to be a nurse so this is what I am planning to study, however I love writing and dream of being a published author someday as well. My reasons for wanting to be a nurse are mainly that I passionately want to do something to help people, although I am fairly open and flexible as to where this may take me.

Writing is something I have done for years now, and it is something I have always seemed to be fairly good at, as others have told me. I am not so confident in my own skills, but would love to accept this. I'm told my writing seems far more mature than that of a sixteen year old, I'm happy with that. I find writing to be helpful when I am upset, confused, etc. I have rarely felt as helpless as when I was not able to express my emotions. I love writing narratives as well, as you can see in my other blog, however I am working on doing so with more regularity.

My family consists of my parents and my one younger sister, younger by 364 days ^_^
I don't get along with my mum at all, my dad somewhat, but my sister and I are fairly close these days (: I am very protective of her. And regardless, I love my family. My parents are Indian but both I and my sister were born here in Adelaide, South Australia and I consider myself Australian. In 1998 and 1999, my family lived in Auckland, New Zealand, and although it was great, we ultimately moved back here to Adelaide, which I have to say is even better, although many people hate it since it's so quiet and there isn't a lot to do...

This year has been a turbulent one for me. I became even closer with my two girl best friends and became best friends with the guy who lives across the road from me and also goes to the same school in the same year level. Three months ago within one and a half weeks, lost them all permanently, or so I thought. Miserable because of this, I resorted to overdosing on painkillers at school in an attempt to stop thinking just for a while. The last time I had done this was the 12th of November, 2007. My other friends who realised what I had done told our homegroup teacher; an ambulance was called, and I had to spend that night and the next day in hospital attached to a drip.

Lots of things have changed since then, I now see a counsellor regularly =/ but she's actually great. I think you'll find I am actually a very positive and hopeful person. I am still hoping to fix things with my friends, and just two days ago, my guy friend who I had completely given up on having him as a friend again began to talk to me. Things are still awkward but hope is pulsing through my veins so strongly that I am getting swept away. My friends mean a lot to me, but I overreact a lot.

During the self harm, I had been told that it was something I would later regret; however I cannot bring myself to regret any of it. There is no point in ruing the past, when we cannot change it. We can change the future and that is what we should focus on. Any bad experience can be made good of if we choose to, and often these things that we live through can be used to help other people. That is what I hope to do, to be able to help others who are struggling with the same things by understanding what they have gone through and using my knowledge to benefit them in some way, as Renee of TWLOHA has done for me and so many others. In her words, "that is what the pain was for, and that is worth it all, and more."

I will add to this later and any help from any of my friends who read this would be great ;P But that's all for now. (:

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/wrists

i fucking wish.

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