I don't want to be real anymore.
That was the thought running through my head for almost half of today so far. In case you didn't realise from the time stamps on my last two posts, I didn't sleep much last night. Nor the night before, to be honest. I've filled my body with so much caffeine today, and oh, you can tell. I had coffee, and I don't even know how many No-Doz, which are caffeine tablets. At first I was just upset and generally wanted to cut, but that might have happened anyway, who knows. Then I grew really clingy and tired but not sleepy. And then I went weird like I never have before. And it was really scary.
I have never felt so anti social in my life. The people around, anyone close made me feel sick with revulsion; I couldn't bear being near anyone. This was during lunch and I couldn't even take feeling my own body, I couldn't put my hands on my legs while I was sitting down and I avoided contact with anything as much as possible to avoid any feeling of physicality. I was so freaked out, went pretty much into auto pilot mode, blanked out from everything as much as possible; and then I started crying in between, switching between the two over and over.
I don't even think this was just the caffeine.
I'm really behind in quite a few subjects at school, honestly. My biology teacher thinks I should be looking at leaving school and working, etc.
On my way home I calmed down a bit and now I can actually think, and thank god. I never want to do that again. And I really think I can still do this. I can catch up on school work and do okay, at least. I have to.
So I'm going to be being as healthy as I can from now on, and sleep at nights, and actually eat healthy and adequate amounts. Maybe even eat breakfast. I'll probably miss NCIS episodes if it is necessary, in order for me to get schoolwork done. I can always catch up on them later, on Surfthechannel.com When my body can actually handle it again, I'll get up early and go for runs in the morning. I'm not going to do much else besides school work till I have caught up. So I probably won't write much here for a while. If you see posts from me, feel free to virtual slap me, yeah?
And I think, for a while, I'll be avoiding caffeine.
Update (7.28PM): I know, I know. I just, hate it when people don't reply to text messages and I know it's not because they're out of credit. And now I'm getting paranoid. In this instance, I think I even have the right to be worried. Toivoa potentially screws up things once again. Hurray.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Your Beard is Good
You know when you stay up late and you get the munchies? Cravings for something specific, too, and not just a random food group, like chocolate, chips or noodles... Well I just went through a lot of Doritos. And thank god we had Doritos because otherwise I would be sitting here rocking back and forth muttering to myself. Which, I mean, isn't that uncommon for me, but still. (It is uncommon for me. Really)
You may or may not know this, but my parents are Indian. I was born and grew up in Australia and god forbid that you ever should call me Indian because I will hurt you; but I say that I have Indian heritage or some crap coz I get technical about shit like that. There was this one time my best friend used this to prove a point she was making to her boyfriend; that he couldn't be Greek or half Greek with his one Greek parent (or maybe both his parents were Greek, it's been a long time and I forget) because he was born in Australia and since I wasn't Indian, by the same reasoning he wasn't Greek. It went something like that, I think.
Anyway, where was I? Doritos are good. No, I was past that. Ah. Not to be racist but I'm not keen on Indians. I do not like Indians. Okay, it's not that I don't like Indians. I just avoid contact with them (I'm really not helping my cause, am I?)... Apart from my family, a few people at my church, and Jimit, I don't know no Indians here (Thank god). It's not that I have a problem with Indians. I just don't want people to think I'm trying to start Little India here or something. When people move to another country, I think its important to try and participate in the country's lifestyle, culture, all that jazz. It really pisses me off when people move to another country and want to keep living as though they're in the country they just left. By this I mean countries which are notably different to each other. For example, India --> Australia.
It's all well and good to keep in touch with your own culture, hang out with people who understand come from the same place, keep the memories and stories alive. All that. But at least try to immerse yourself in this new place, or what is the point of moving? I even got angry at Daniel Brown for saying that he only became an Australian citizen because it was convenient, and told him to get the hell back to England. Okay, who am I kidding, I just like to argue with Daniel Brown. But, still.
I had a point (this happens far too often).
So when I became friends with Jimit I was all weird about it because, well, he was Indian. And I didn't want people to think I was like Daniel Brown, that is if he was Indian and female and awesome ;D but ungrateful for living in one of the most awesome countries ever (not that I'm biased or anything). I mean, in the respect that I just wanted to recreate India here in Adelaide and only hang with the other Indians. Even though I'm not Indian, but having Indian parents and all, I look Indian. But apparently not that Indian. I think whoever it was who didn't realise I was of Indian ethnicity was perhaps slightly blind, but I wasn't about to complain.
Oh, and I should probably be nicer to Daniel Brown, he occasionally lends me pens and money and goes on Maccas runs for us at lunch times...
Or I could just keep going the way I am and find some other hapless soul to borrow and extort from. It's not that hard. Apparently I look somewhat trustworthy. And I do pay people back. It just doesn't always happen as soon as possible. Hold me to this - Alex, I will return your five dollars, before the end of this year.
Besides, his name is Daniel Brown. He's one of those people, the ones whose first name can't be said on its own. He is simply Daniel Brown. Not Daniel, never Brown, occasionally Brown Daniel (one of the hang ups of having a colour / adjective for a last name); but either way his first and last name cannot be separated. Does he have a middle name? I don't know. It matters not. He is Daniel Brown. I dare you to call him only by Daniel.
Try it.
It feels wrong.
You'll see.
Ahem. So, Jimit. After being friends, we went through the whole "friends who also hook up just coz" thing. When I actually began to like him, I got very mad at myself. My one rule was "never get with an Indian". Okay I'm sure I have a few other rules but that was probably the only one I had distinctly thought out.
I justified it, though, because he had been here pretty much his whole life, had no accent (which would have been a major problem), definitely didn't think like an Indian (again, maaaajor problem that would have been), and yeah that's pretty much it. Oh and we'd had the same "never get with an Indian" rule. So we both broke that. After the "dating unofficially and half secretly" stage, we're now just back to being normal friends. Although to be honest we never really had that before.
I think you get my point. I go out of my way to avoid Indians. You probably got that within my first paragraph on this topic, after the whole Doritos thing. I'm aware that was completely pointless. What can I say? I do completely pointless well. (Yes, it is something to be proud of) (:
Hopefully you actually stayed with me this long. Because, besides the few I mentioned I like, and Russell Peters since he's funny (strange, him being a comedian and all), I have now found another Indian person who I wouldn't mind affiliating with. I'm pretty sure "affiliating" is something along the lines of "associating" so if I got that incredibly wrong and implied something I didn't mean to, yeah, just go with associating and pretend I'm right.
This Indian blogs, and he is awesome. Yes, I said it. I don't know why. But unlike me, he is "down with brown". I quote. But hey, I'm not racist. Really!
Anyway go check him out at Your Beard is Good. I don't really get the name either... But through my extensive research (read: extensive reading of blogs in order to procrastinate), I believe it might be something to do with The Office... Regardless. He's funny. You'll laugh. It's good. So go. (:
thnks fr th mmrs
Well that was a traumatic phone call.
I don't want to even think about half of that conversation ever again.
I'm so uncomfortable with talking about certain things.
Although I suppose, everyone has their "taboo" topics.
But, shit.
I wasn't doing so great before that conversation and now I'm somewhat worse.
It was just uncomfortable and delved into stuff I do not ever want to talk about, and other stuff that I'm not ready to talk about yet. At least while sober.
And really, with all the shit that's happened every time, I should stop fucking drinking.
But I won't. Why?
I'm stupid.
I don't know why!
I need to attempt some homework. Caffeine dosage upcoming.
Only thing I can say is that I'm so grateful for seeing Justin on Sunday evening at church. That makes everything better. And I can't wait till we hang out.
I'm so sick of having no one to talk to about serious shit. I'm so sick of people not letting me know what I'm doing is stupid, in a nice way where I'll actually take it on board. I'm really, really over being stuck with myself constantly and having to carry this stuff around.
I hate the flashbacks of memory. Any memory. Every memory. And then especially those memories. I want to remove them. Anyone know if there's a delete button?
I may even start almost completely over. I don't want to keep remembering what I did, with this different, normal perspective. How I usually look at the world. I want to forget.
I'd forget you, and you, and you and you and you, and that night, and that night, and that time;
I'd definitely forget that. Was it my fault, or yours? A bit of both, I'd say. I wish I could say it was yours entirely. I really do. I lost much of my slowly building self respect there. And I wish that someone could say it wasn't my fault and that such a statement would be true. I wish that I could take it back take it back back back.
I hatehatehate that I did that. I hate how I'll never have a second chance. Nothing can change that.
(Although, I'll admit, if it would have fixed things with my friends in some crazy way, I'd do the same thing again. A thousand times over, not that it's quite possible. But as close as I could get.)
And as for you, well, I think I'd keep those memories. I don't want to forget that, forget you, or what you meant; or how special that was. I wouldn't forget you either, or you. Or you. I'd keep those memories, bittersweet as they are except for those with the last one of you.
Everything else, I think I would forget.
I've never been so full of regrets.
UPDATE (1:43AM) - And if I had the energy or the desire to try to protect myself, I'd be curled in a ball with my arms around my head. But how does one fight when the enemy is already inside?
The more I try to stop it, the faster the images come, flashes here and gone; in a cycle that can't stop, won't stop. And each time it's worse.
And I'd give myself to you in any way possible so that I exist no longer as my own self, but rather something for someone else. How do I explain that concept? If I was no longer a physical being, but rather, just a presence, something like a spirit who just filled the gaps in those who needed it and who I once loved; that would be easier. The responsibility of living sometimes feels like too much (that's now).
I don't want to be freefalling, I'd rather be drifting, emotionless.
I'll put my life on hold permanently; do you see it up on that shelf? Till I'm more faded than the words that I once wrote; I'll love you always, forever.
I'm barely aware of what I'm saying, can you tell?
Living takes an effort that sometimes I can't find, and I'm scrawling down these senseless words hoping that somehow I'll find my mind.
Wow, that rhymed.
EDIT (2.16AM): All I want right now is a coffee I can drown my thoughts in.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
No hope, no love, no glory
Why, why, why, does such a depressing song have such a misleading title? "Happy Ending", by Mika, I mean. Mika's songs, for the most part, seem to be overly bright and cheerful (or at least annoying beyond belief e.g. Lollipop). Case in point - Love Today. Not that I listen to Mika. Much.
I fell in love with this song the first time I heard it, and I still am. But come on, I listen to enough "emo", and depressing music as it is. Really.
The music to Happy Ending even sounds pretty chill. Not necessarily upbeat, but peaceful, relaxing. It's the lyrics that bring it down. Way down. I actually almost feel like crying every time I hear this song. But I still love it, damnit. I understand when I associate songs with memories that were good and now, circumstances having changed, make me sad and nostalgic. Or songs which I can identify with about bad / sad things. But this song is just gloomy and makes me sad. For no reason. And yet, I can't stop listening to it. On repeat. Far too regularly, too. Sigh.
As such, for the moment I'm rather pensive. Bear with me.
Tomorrow is Sunday. A morning filled with church, while I do my best to pay attention. I haven't had to try as hard to keep myself awake during the service so much lately; perhaps my naps during English Studies are taking care of that. Not that I'm too fussed about missing out on the worship. I need to try and find out what the music is for the second service, since I am supposed to be playing. I'm as highly enthused about that task as ever. Afternoon has been delegated with homework, since I neglected that terribly today. Year Twelve is going fantastically so far [/sarcasm].
Late afternoon is back to church for Bible Study. fjlkdjgpkfldjgflfd. Keyboard mashing actually is a very good way of expression emotions of frustration, anger, or distress. So over Bible Study. I don't care! Then, maybe to another church for their evening service so I can hang out with some of my friends from that week of community service I did towards the end of the Christmas Holidays. Speaking of which, I cannot wait to donate blood again! There's still another month and a half to go, but.
Oh and of course I'm heaps keen to actually be present for the service there and all...
Actually, I kinda am (no sarcasm here). Really.
I was talking to Nick on Thursday, or Friday, or something, if you recall those panicky moments I had. He told me something which I had forgotten. If I really believe that those friendships are so worth it, if I'm not willing to let them just go like this, then I should talk to the friends in question. He reminded me that I need to actively do something about it. But I have no idea what I could say. And I've been so scared since the one time I did try to talk to them. And yes, that is a link to a friend's blog, and it probably doesn't make all that much sense; half the post is about something else. And she wasn't there for the rest of it. I couldn't write about it myself, and I still don't really want to revisit it, so if you want a slightly clearer picture of what happened, you'll have to make do with that. Not that anything when it comes to Kate could ever be just "making do". (:
Anyhow, when I said "scared", I meant in the sense that it would go wrong. Again. And I'm scared of knowing for sure that they are content with leaving it this way. When that feels so incredibly, undeniably wrong to me.
I'm in a rambly mood. A purposely rambly, unlike most other times when I attempt to write about something and go off on several tangents, and tangents of tangents.
Hmmm, what else? I'm behind in a few of my subjects. Yes, I know. I wasn't going to do that this year. This was my chance for a new start and, seven weeks in, I'm fucking it up already. I'll fix this, I swear. In the meantime, my parents aren't very happy, at all. In that extremely unhelpful way they are so good at using.
I miss the days when I would stay up till 4 and even 5AM, aided by insane amounts of coffee, just to get homework done at the last moment. Because then, at least I was getting it done, on time.
My mum also is convinced that I have resumed hurting myself, by burning myself. With my hair straightener. On my neck. Even I am not that retarded! Of course, I'm not really willing to tell her that no, that's a hickey. That would be much more awkward. So her only other option is that I burnt my neck by accident, but I vehemently denied that it was anything when she first saw and asked by it. Way to cover up, Toivoa. That would be why I need my stories preplanned and all ready to go. I didn't even consider an accidental burn, although that has happened before. Oops.
So I've the rest of this dreary weekend to get through, with only the thought of a four dollar Mocha on Monday and a possible Macca's run at lunch time to spur me onward...
Well, now that I think about it, that's definitely motivation enough.
Advertising at its best
I haven't had a Macca's Filet o' Fish burger since I lived in New Zealand when I was around six, and just personally, I'm keen to keep it that way. All the same, the ad below is making me crave some of that greasy food, any of it, from that place with the golden arches we love so much... Okay, maybe nothing with the new seared chicken. >.< Or the apple slices that are a choice in Happy Meals. Come on, we do not go to Macca's for healthy food,and especially not apple slices!
McD's --> grease grease grease. Golden fries dripping in grease. Burgers with melted plastic cheese and meat patties we learn not to look at, for our own sakes. Food that is so bad it cannot be anything but great. Don't try to understand it. Just embrace it. After all, Macca's is what our inner children know we need. And our inner child knows best.
We are the fattest nation in the world, and if I contribute to that by my consumption of McDonald's, I gotta tell you, I can deal with that.
P.S. This ad is addictive (kinda like Macca's). I can't stop watching it, and the fish song is in my head... You have been warned.
UPDATE: My sister now can't stop singing it either. ;D
Friday, March 13, 2009
Just putting it out there (I'm a lot calmer right now, than I was before. But still) -
I never thought it was possible to miss anyone this much while they were still alive.
I never thought I'd need to miss the people in question, in this way.
I never thought there would be a time when I would see them and not talk to them, not smile and be happy to see them, not call out to them.
I never ever thought that such a day could come. And I never ever ever thought it could last.
This began on the 10th of September, 2008. That's six months, people. Tell me there is an end date for this nightmare. I'm not exaggerating, that's what it is, to me.
Although, I know I don't get to wake up. This is reality, and let's face it, reality is shit.
I hope you guys are as happy as you seem to be, but I gotta admit, I really, really hope that you miss me just a little too, every so often. Please tell me that it meant as much to you as it did, and does, to me.
And, although I talk about him more, which is why he was dubbed the "ex best friend", and also because I've given up any hope of reconciliation, to be honest the others are the ones who matter more. Because that was there before him, and it was meant to last after, as well.
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