The sun shines down, bathing us in its loving warmth. I have to go against everything I know to just stand there. I have spent years avoiding it, years in fear. And now, out of nowhere, I was standing it it, enjoying it. I knew this wouldn't work unless I ignored my instincts. Sunlight was vital to what I was about to do.
The blue hurts my eyes with it's brilliance. It's beautiful and brings back happy memories. But the homesickness I used to feel is returning. How can I be happy here when I know what I'm missing. How can I want to be there when there's nothing there for me but pretty scenery. This is my life. I've chosen. I could turn but it's pointless. It would disappoint everyone. And in the long run I don't want to. I an travel, I can see everywhere. But this path does not change. I know what turnings I must take. I just hope I'm not forced down others. It's a long and boring road. All planned out for me, but I've never known if it really is what I want.
But thoughts like these are pointless. It's far better to focus on the now. I can work up my good mood again. I mean, just look at that sunshine and that field. Look for the smile that's waiting for me to pick it up and wear it, my oldest and closest friend. THIS IS WHO I REALLY AM.
Isn't that a song lyric? 30 Seconds to Mars I believe. Yes it's from The Kill. His song. The song that made me cry and smile and contributed to my stupid mixed up emotions. I mustn't think of him when I hear it. It's not his song now. It's a great song and must not be ruined with those painful memories. Although it isn't his fault. He had to do what he did if he valued his life. But the betrayal still hurts far too much for me to forgive him.
Forgiveness. A longish word that's tossed around all the time. They say to error is human, to forgive is divine. But how many people truly forgive and how many just say it? I've sat there before and let go of all my anger, hatred and hurt, forgiving everyone,. I brought my messed up heart and my confused mind to peace. Only to wake up the next morning with nothing but the memory of what it's like. I still hold everything against them. I still hurt from the wounds they left. Have they healed or not? I never do know.
Look at this one, this was caused by a blonde girl. I didn't notice her stab the knife in. It's in my back so I couldn't see and I was focused on the pain of a different wound. But yes, this one has started to heal, it no longer bleeds. But it would take the barest knock to start again and the scar will never fade. And look at this one on my chest. This is the one that preoccupied me. See how deep it it. This one was because someone kicked me in the chest repeatedly even though I wanted their love. It's just a scar now but I'm afraid of others like it. I wear chain mail like the knights of old to protect me against it.
I wish I could show you more, make you understand more but my time is up. I must go and fight against further injury.
Wednesday 26 October 2011
Saturday 22 October 2011
Amisha
This is an attempt at writing about charicters so I thought I would start with telling you about my friend Amisha. She's incredibly strange. The first thing that indicates her strageness is her obssesion with split ends. We found out about this in early September this year and it's been an endless source of amusement. If she sees a split end she has to pull it out straight away and enjoys it immensly. Scarlett sits in front of her in maths and whole lessons have gone by where Scarlett won't lean forwards because Amisha is looking through her hair and will pull on it or scream "noooooooooooooooo" if she does move. First of all Ganika picked up the habit, then Scarlett and now even I'm doing it. Although, I'm proud to say, I have no split ends :)
If this yellow fish was Amisha and these bubbles would be split ends, this would be very accurate: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5NzPd-xW4YY&feature=related
That's not the only strange hair related thing she's done in maths. The othr day she coloured the tips of mine dark blue (I have very dark hair so it only worked on the ends and even then only the most golden part). I let her at first because it was quite funny. She wants me to dip my entire head in red hair dye, convinced it'll make my hair much nicer and then she can laugh at my red face.
This is the girl who, when we were playing maths games on the computers, started saying "you're doing it wrong! You're going to die now" until said it whenever she came near. And who pretended the computer mouse was a real mouse that was climbing up my leg. I then joined in with the one next to me. We called them Jerry and Mouseatouille and used them for many hours entertainment.
We spent hours discussing the best lines of Pirates of the Carribean and we all love Captain Jack Sparrow! We find him the funniest person on Earth. None of us can wait until the next one and we want to have a sleepover where we watch all 4 of the movies in a row. Maybe dressed as pirates for fun, definately with popcorn. Amisha may have admitted jealousy of Captain Sparrows bandana.
And even though she thinks boys are a waste of air and is totally asexual, she is fascinated by my love life. The other day she spent hours trying to guess who my almost-crush is on, although I flat out lied to her. She says her interest is because she doesn't understand why other people, e.g. me are "obssessed" with guys. Whatever the reason is, it's almost as annoying as her size. She's the skinniest person I've ever met! But, it means I can claim that with her bird like legs she can fit on the end of the table in science where there i a bar under the table and my "fat" legs can't. And no suspicion is aroused, when really I want to sit next to the guy next to her ;)
She's the most talkative person I know and is always getting in trouble in class because she doesn't shut up. Meaning my French teacher, who can't even get her name right, hates her. But it is funny when she gets her name wrong. I would love to share the names with you but for that to be understood I would have to give away her real name which I am NOT doing.
When I was saying what our friends would be like as teachers for a joke, picking on all their worst points, I said that she would end up stopping the lesson to search her students hair for split ends. She'd stop her own funeral to take out the split ends of whoever does a Hindu funeral.
This girl loves being difficult and hates the skankiest guy in school who is very needy and has latched onto us, Noah, and spiders, she's one of those that kills them :s even though she's vegitarian and believes everyone else, including animals like lions, tigers etc should be.
When I asked her what her best memory was, in the hope of a good story, she simply said our conversations from lunch times. Which is annoying. The main "story" I can produce is her past, and about her dad. But Amisha's post was meant to be lighthearted and hopefully, but probably not, entertain you as much as she entertains us. So no sobstories ...
If this yellow fish was Amisha and these bubbles would be split ends, this would be very accurate: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5NzPd-xW4YY&feature=related
That's not the only strange hair related thing she's done in maths. The othr day she coloured the tips of mine dark blue (I have very dark hair so it only worked on the ends and even then only the most golden part). I let her at first because it was quite funny. She wants me to dip my entire head in red hair dye, convinced it'll make my hair much nicer and then she can laugh at my red face.
This is the girl who, when we were playing maths games on the computers, started saying "you're doing it wrong! You're going to die now" until said it whenever she came near. And who pretended the computer mouse was a real mouse that was climbing up my leg. I then joined in with the one next to me. We called them Jerry and Mouseatouille and used them for many hours entertainment.
We spent hours discussing the best lines of Pirates of the Carribean and we all love Captain Jack Sparrow! We find him the funniest person on Earth. None of us can wait until the next one and we want to have a sleepover where we watch all 4 of the movies in a row. Maybe dressed as pirates for fun, definately with popcorn. Amisha may have admitted jealousy of Captain Sparrows bandana.
And even though she thinks boys are a waste of air and is totally asexual, she is fascinated by my love life. The other day she spent hours trying to guess who my almost-crush is on, although I flat out lied to her. She says her interest is because she doesn't understand why other people, e.g. me are "obssessed" with guys. Whatever the reason is, it's almost as annoying as her size. She's the skinniest person I've ever met! But, it means I can claim that with her bird like legs she can fit on the end of the table in science where there i a bar under the table and my "fat" legs can't. And no suspicion is aroused, when really I want to sit next to the guy next to her ;)
She's the most talkative person I know and is always getting in trouble in class because she doesn't shut up. Meaning my French teacher, who can't even get her name right, hates her. But it is funny when she gets her name wrong. I would love to share the names with you but for that to be understood I would have to give away her real name which I am NOT doing.
When I was saying what our friends would be like as teachers for a joke, picking on all their worst points, I said that she would end up stopping the lesson to search her students hair for split ends. She'd stop her own funeral to take out the split ends of whoever does a Hindu funeral.
This girl loves being difficult and hates the skankiest guy in school who is very needy and has latched onto us, Noah, and spiders, she's one of those that kills them :s even though she's vegitarian and believes everyone else, including animals like lions, tigers etc should be.
When I asked her what her best memory was, in the hope of a good story, she simply said our conversations from lunch times. Which is annoying. The main "story" I can produce is her past, and about her dad. But Amisha's post was meant to be lighthearted and hopefully, but probably not, entertain you as much as she entertains us. So no sobstories ...
Wednesday 19 October 2011
Smiling
I would like you to ignore the depressing tone of Mondays post. I gave up being mute, determined to find a way to destroy my vocal cords at some point. Now, I don't want to.
I walked part of the way home with Gabriel Monday after school and came home really cheerful. The post was a diary entry from the day before and I'd said I'd post it, it tells a bit about my life and who I am. But it's all changed.
When I came home all cheerful, I decided I like being cheerful and don;t need to be so miserable all the time. So I decided to just keep smiling. Because your brain thinks that if you're smiling, you must be happy and so you feel happier. So I've kept on smiling ever since and feel wonderful because of it.
I'm happier constantly, the world is brighter, everything's better, bad things aren't a problem, I have more fun, my brain works better. And my self confidence has been drastically improved. Eva even commented on it today because it's actually visible.
My life isn't perfect. I'm not perfect. But you know what? I don't give a shit. I have so much that is good, I have a loving family and a home and I don't go hungry and I can write and I have seen and done so many wonderful things. "I'll never be rich and I'll never look perfect, I don't care it's who I am" (Madina Lake, Hey Superstar).
I can see the best of any situation and I can look at myself and think "I don't like my nose/inability to draw/impatience but I do like my hair/writing talent/kindness" as an example.
And I am actually more patient with people because they don't annoy me so much so I'm being nicer to everyone. It's doing wonders for my karma. Just smiling does so much. Thank you Gabriel for making me see this (albeit indirectly).
I walked part of the way home with Gabriel Monday after school and came home really cheerful. The post was a diary entry from the day before and I'd said I'd post it, it tells a bit about my life and who I am. But it's all changed.
When I came home all cheerful, I decided I like being cheerful and don;t need to be so miserable all the time. So I decided to just keep smiling. Because your brain thinks that if you're smiling, you must be happy and so you feel happier. So I've kept on smiling ever since and feel wonderful because of it.
I'm happier constantly, the world is brighter, everything's better, bad things aren't a problem, I have more fun, my brain works better. And my self confidence has been drastically improved. Eva even commented on it today because it's actually visible.
My life isn't perfect. I'm not perfect. But you know what? I don't give a shit. I have so much that is good, I have a loving family and a home and I don't go hungry and I can write and I have seen and done so many wonderful things. "I'll never be rich and I'll never look perfect, I don't care it's who I am" (Madina Lake, Hey Superstar).
I can see the best of any situation and I can look at myself and think "I don't like my nose/inability to draw/impatience but I do like my hair/writing talent/kindness" as an example.
And I am actually more patient with people because they don't annoy me so much so I'm being nicer to everyone. It's doing wonders for my karma. Just smiling does so much. Thank you Gabriel for making me see this (albeit indirectly).
Monday 17 October 2011
Being Mute
I hate my voice. I hate every single thing sound it makes. I hate its pitch. I hate its volume. I hate its - everything. At this moment in time all I want is to never hear it again. Is that too much to ask??!
Dad is utterly selfish and has decided that because he spends so little time with me I must talk to him constantly. I don't have that much to say normally. Let alone when I never want to speak again! And I can't even talk quietly because he's stupidly deaf!
The rest of my family don't have a clue. So I have to talk to them as well.
My friends are constantly trying to convince me to talk and so are the others at school. They. Just. Don't. Get. It.
The teachers, like my family, couldn't even be approached with the idea of me not talking. It's the same at work. Even random strangers expect me to talk!
Why is it so inconceivable that a 15 year old girl would one day decide not to talk?? It's not like anyone on the internet is even remotely helpful either!! If you look up ways to destroy your vocal cords, you get lots of people wanting to and loads of others saying "why would you want to do that?" and having a go at the people! The only way I can find is surgery. AT 15 I CAN'T AFFORD THAT!!!!
No-one, absolutely no-one seems to understand voluntary muteness and no-one will help you find out how to become a physical mute. It's ridiculous! Why is the whole world so against it? It's OUR voice and OUR choice! Thousand of people have died so that we have the free will to make these kinds of choices. But does anyone respect them? No! Why shouldn't we get a say in whether or not we have to hear OUR OWN voices?
Dad is utterly selfish and has decided that because he spends so little time with me I must talk to him constantly. I don't have that much to say normally. Let alone when I never want to speak again! And I can't even talk quietly because he's stupidly deaf!
The rest of my family don't have a clue. So I have to talk to them as well.
My friends are constantly trying to convince me to talk and so are the others at school. They. Just. Don't. Get. It.
The teachers, like my family, couldn't even be approached with the idea of me not talking. It's the same at work. Even random strangers expect me to talk!
Why is it so inconceivable that a 15 year old girl would one day decide not to talk?? It's not like anyone on the internet is even remotely helpful either!! If you look up ways to destroy your vocal cords, you get lots of people wanting to and loads of others saying "why would you want to do that?" and having a go at the people! The only way I can find is surgery. AT 15 I CAN'T AFFORD THAT!!!!
No-one, absolutely no-one seems to understand voluntary muteness and no-one will help you find out how to become a physical mute. It's ridiculous! Why is the whole world so against it? It's OUR voice and OUR choice! Thousand of people have died so that we have the free will to make these kinds of choices. But does anyone respect them? No! Why shouldn't we get a say in whether or not we have to hear OUR OWN voices?
Tuesday 11 October 2011
I Wish
There are many ways that making a wish is meant to come true. On shooting stars, pennies in fountains, 10 past 10 on the 10th day of the 10th month 2010, wishbones, prayer, those dandelion things etc etc. I've tried most of these. It never came true. So I have given up believing. Actually I gave up believing a long time ago. But I still wish, just in an offhand way. I never mean it and never expect it to come true. So these aren't wishes as such. More fantasies merely phrased as wishes.
I wish I could get 100% in all my GCSE exams this year and therefore get A*s for everything. I wish I could be the smartest in the year and live up to all dads expectations. I wish I could focus in class and work hard without getting so distracted. I wish I could take an interest in all of my subjects.
I wish I could like myself better. I wish my hair was longer and darker. I wish I looked like Amy Lee. I wish I had a smaller waist and thinner legs. I wish my eyes were a prettier colour. I wish girls would look at me and be as jealous of me as I am of them. I wish I didn't get jealous and/or angry as easily and as often as I do. I wish I was a nicer person. I wish I didn't cringe at the sound of my own voice. I wish I was more patient. I wish I could have the strength to follow my wishes rather than those of my dad. I wish I was a gentler person, or unafraid to rebel like I want to so much. I wish every single aspect of my personality and looks would improve a hundredfold.
I wish I could take back all the stupid things I've said. I wish I could remember to think before speaking. I wish I could produce witty comebacks, funny jokes and pithy insults on the spot.
I wish I had the talent to become a best selling author. I wish I could sing. I wish I could play guitar. I wish that in a fight, if it came to it I could kick arse. I wish I could run at vampiric speed. I wish I had psychic powers.
I wish I will get into a good sixth form and then a brilliant (foreign) university. I wish I will work for RockSound as my day job but write stories on the side that publishers will have no delay in publishing because they're so fantastic that the public needs them ASAP. I wish I will live my life in Sweden.
I wish I had friends over in this town that I could trust. I wish that I was more self confident. I wish people wouldn't try to walk over me or treat me like shit. I wish I was good enough for my family to be proud of. I wish that I didn't have such high walls between me and the world. I wish I didn't feel the instinctual need to hole away in my room rather than socialising, so I can't get hurt and then getting jealous of those that go out. I wish I was friends with the people I will never gather the confidence to talk to.
If I'm perfectly honest, I wish I was someone else.
Most of these wishes are impossible. But I suppose it can't hurt to write them down. Then I can look at what I want from life and try to achieve the more realistic of them. And attempt to forget the impossible. I think that writing down your wishes every so often can help make your life better because it reminds you of where your heading. And this is the life I'm working towards (somehow).
I wish I could get 100% in all my GCSE exams this year and therefore get A*s for everything. I wish I could be the smartest in the year and live up to all dads expectations. I wish I could focus in class and work hard without getting so distracted. I wish I could take an interest in all of my subjects.
I wish I could like myself better. I wish my hair was longer and darker. I wish I looked like Amy Lee. I wish I had a smaller waist and thinner legs. I wish my eyes were a prettier colour. I wish girls would look at me and be as jealous of me as I am of them. I wish I didn't get jealous and/or angry as easily and as often as I do. I wish I was a nicer person. I wish I didn't cringe at the sound of my own voice. I wish I was more patient. I wish I could have the strength to follow my wishes rather than those of my dad. I wish I was a gentler person, or unafraid to rebel like I want to so much. I wish every single aspect of my personality and looks would improve a hundredfold.
I wish I could take back all the stupid things I've said. I wish I could remember to think before speaking. I wish I could produce witty comebacks, funny jokes and pithy insults on the spot.
I wish I had the talent to become a best selling author. I wish I could sing. I wish I could play guitar. I wish that in a fight, if it came to it I could kick arse. I wish I could run at vampiric speed. I wish I had psychic powers.
I wish I will get into a good sixth form and then a brilliant (foreign) university. I wish I will work for RockSound as my day job but write stories on the side that publishers will have no delay in publishing because they're so fantastic that the public needs them ASAP. I wish I will live my life in Sweden.
I wish I had friends over in this town that I could trust. I wish that I was more self confident. I wish people wouldn't try to walk over me or treat me like shit. I wish I was good enough for my family to be proud of. I wish that I didn't have such high walls between me and the world. I wish I didn't feel the instinctual need to hole away in my room rather than socialising, so I can't get hurt and then getting jealous of those that go out. I wish I was friends with the people I will never gather the confidence to talk to.
If I'm perfectly honest, I wish I was someone else.
Most of these wishes are impossible. But I suppose it can't hurt to write them down. Then I can look at what I want from life and try to achieve the more realistic of them. And attempt to forget the impossible. I think that writing down your wishes every so often can help make your life better because it reminds you of where your heading. And this is the life I'm working towards (somehow).
Monday 10 October 2011
Parents Evening :s
It's parents evening on Wednesday (today being Monday) and I'm slightly afraid. I haven't been as good as I could have been. Whilst I've improved in English, my teacher doesn't care and seems to like picking on me. My French teacher loves me and I pay attention in her lesson (or so she thinks. Really I'm eating). So it should be all good from her. My history teacher likes me and I was top of the class last year and only let myself down in the actual exam by only getting an A while total nerds were getting full marks. I still come out with very good points in class although I don't get a chance to say them that often because I'm very patient whilst a certain person in her class always feels the need to shout out her opinion over everyone elses.
In Chemistry I once got caught passing notes and miss found pages of them. I am still counting my lucky stars that she didn't read them! One part was a rather unflattering bit about my other science teacher. I also sit next to someone who's very talkative. Sometimes I give in to temptation at the worst of times ...
In biology I am one of the 95% of the class that doesn't listen because our teacher is so boring. But I'm not sure he has noticed that. So long as I provide the right answers it's all OK.
My geography teacher is new and I've been relatively quiet in his lessons so he can't have anything bad to report about me. Unless he mentions about that last mock exam if I didn't do very well on it (which I don't know yet).
My subject I'm most worried about is maths. Today I got the idea for a hate poem - not based on anyone. Just an attempt to write one. Miss caught me and read it. She asked who it was and I told her the truth but she didn't seem convinced. I promised not to do it again. But she has also caught me and my friends playing word association in class. And my work probably isn't the greatest.
This doesn't sound too bad. Except I had a gigantic argument with my dad the other day and education is his biggest priority for my life. He's always whinging at me that I'm not doing well enough and always giving me the same useless, unwanted advice over and over again. I got bad feedback once in year 2 from parents evening. There's a reason I've never done it again. If I get it bad this year, I don't want to see him until I've finished all my exams! Then he won't be able to tell me off about them. I'm terrified of not being enough. And that poem may have mentioned killing people. Miss really wasn't impressed. Fingers crossed that all goes smoothly ....
In Chemistry I once got caught passing notes and miss found pages of them. I am still counting my lucky stars that she didn't read them! One part was a rather unflattering bit about my other science teacher. I also sit next to someone who's very talkative. Sometimes I give in to temptation at the worst of times ...
In biology I am one of the 95% of the class that doesn't listen because our teacher is so boring. But I'm not sure he has noticed that. So long as I provide the right answers it's all OK.
My geography teacher is new and I've been relatively quiet in his lessons so he can't have anything bad to report about me. Unless he mentions about that last mock exam if I didn't do very well on it (which I don't know yet).
My subject I'm most worried about is maths. Today I got the idea for a hate poem - not based on anyone. Just an attempt to write one. Miss caught me and read it. She asked who it was and I told her the truth but she didn't seem convinced. I promised not to do it again. But she has also caught me and my friends playing word association in class. And my work probably isn't the greatest.
This doesn't sound too bad. Except I had a gigantic argument with my dad the other day and education is his biggest priority for my life. He's always whinging at me that I'm not doing well enough and always giving me the same useless, unwanted advice over and over again. I got bad feedback once in year 2 from parents evening. There's a reason I've never done it again. If I get it bad this year, I don't want to see him until I've finished all my exams! Then he won't be able to tell me off about them. I'm terrified of not being enough. And that poem may have mentioned killing people. Miss really wasn't impressed. Fingers crossed that all goes smoothly ....
Wednesday 5 October 2011
Me
I got a message from a random person who had discovered my e-mail address through here. From what they saw on here they decided I'm a teenage girl who's a bit rude judging by my use of language in my description bit. So I thought that to avoid any confusion, I would explain some things about me.
1. I seem to have some very bad anger problems. Sometimes I get so angry I scare myself. I have, in the past, genuinely wanted to make someones life so miserable they commit suicide. That was the scariest moment of my life. I know I should get some sort of help but I have my reasons for not doing so. So my blog is, mostly a way to vent. This causes some strong language - and not just swearing. Compared to what's in my head though, this is all very mild. I don't know any words to describe or satisfy the rage that sometimes possesses me.
2. I don't have a clue who I am. I don't understand the mental, emotional and physical changes to me over the past - however long it's been. I don't understand other people. I don't understand the world. I don't understand anything that happens anymore. This confusion, if allowed to be noticed and therefore overwhelm me, leads to tears and/or anger. I prefer anger. Hence the apparently offensive comment about "[figuring] out what the fuck is going on".
3. I seem to have a lack of communication between my brain and my mouth. I can talk but I never say what I mean. I never manage to find the right words, I can't think fast enough and I can't make myself understood. And so, over the years, I have turned more and more to writing - mainly my diary and creative writing. And I've discovered that apart from my spelling, when I write words don't abandon me like they do when I talk, they work with me in a way that continues to amaze me. This is why in my blog I am a lot more honest and upfront than I am in real life, I can be more myself. Especially with the added benefit of doing this so that no-one I meet in real life will find me (I really hope)
4. I don't actually have anyone I can trust. Every time I begin to trust someone, I find out I can't trust them or they disappear from my life due to various circumstances. I keep going to trust people. Just with small details. Things that won't make a difference. And those little things slowly get bigger. Simply because I want to trust. And now I recognise that, I can cut myself off before I cause any major damage. But there isn't anyone in my life that I can talk to about anything. Which means that with my diary and my blog, I'm trusting paper/strangers. Because that's all I've got.
5. I have many contradicting personality traits. So whatever you think I am like, that is only one side to me. There is so much more than that. This is why I'm so confused about who I am. Even when I'm being completely and utterly honest, unless I wrote down every thought, you would never truly understand me. You still only get a fragment of my personality.
6. I'm 15 years old and have grown up in Harlow. You're lucky I'm as polite, well mannered, calm, kind and non-sluttish as I am.
7. I'm actually in quite a bad mood right now (thanks to the whole trust thing). So my responses to that shall be left unsaid in order to not prove their point.
1. I seem to have some very bad anger problems. Sometimes I get so angry I scare myself. I have, in the past, genuinely wanted to make someones life so miserable they commit suicide. That was the scariest moment of my life. I know I should get some sort of help but I have my reasons for not doing so. So my blog is, mostly a way to vent. This causes some strong language - and not just swearing. Compared to what's in my head though, this is all very mild. I don't know any words to describe or satisfy the rage that sometimes possesses me.
2. I don't have a clue who I am. I don't understand the mental, emotional and physical changes to me over the past - however long it's been. I don't understand other people. I don't understand the world. I don't understand anything that happens anymore. This confusion, if allowed to be noticed and therefore overwhelm me, leads to tears and/or anger. I prefer anger. Hence the apparently offensive comment about "[figuring] out what the fuck is going on".
3. I seem to have a lack of communication between my brain and my mouth. I can talk but I never say what I mean. I never manage to find the right words, I can't think fast enough and I can't make myself understood. And so, over the years, I have turned more and more to writing - mainly my diary and creative writing. And I've discovered that apart from my spelling, when I write words don't abandon me like they do when I talk, they work with me in a way that continues to amaze me. This is why in my blog I am a lot more honest and upfront than I am in real life, I can be more myself. Especially with the added benefit of doing this so that no-one I meet in real life will find me (I really hope)
4. I don't actually have anyone I can trust. Every time I begin to trust someone, I find out I can't trust them or they disappear from my life due to various circumstances. I keep going to trust people. Just with small details. Things that won't make a difference. And those little things slowly get bigger. Simply because I want to trust. And now I recognise that, I can cut myself off before I cause any major damage. But there isn't anyone in my life that I can talk to about anything. Which means that with my diary and my blog, I'm trusting paper/strangers. Because that's all I've got.
5. I have many contradicting personality traits. So whatever you think I am like, that is only one side to me. There is so much more than that. This is why I'm so confused about who I am. Even when I'm being completely and utterly honest, unless I wrote down every thought, you would never truly understand me. You still only get a fragment of my personality.
6. I'm 15 years old and have grown up in Harlow. You're lucky I'm as polite, well mannered, calm, kind and non-sluttish as I am.
7. I'm actually in quite a bad mood right now (thanks to the whole trust thing). So my responses to that shall be left unsaid in order to not prove their point.
Monday 3 October 2011
Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall ...
So I look into the mirror and, since none of you know me, you would never believe what I see there. Standing on the other side of the glass, staring back at me is a thing that you can only just tell is human. The hair is the worst hair I have ever seen. I wonder how it's possible for hair to look like that. It's like it was just stuck on and just lays there, dead. And it suits the face less than a mankini would suit Terry Wogan. Eyes are generally a beautiful thing but these don't deserve to be called eyes at all. They're oddly shaped and dull in colour. The nose is too wide, the eyelashes barely existent, the eyebrows a fucked up shape, far too thick and practically a giant furry caterpillar above each eye. The mouth is badly shaped and can't be made to look good at all. The cheeks and chin are just plain fat. The body is oddly proportioned and all wrong. The arms, although slender are too long for the body but too short for a person, the height of the person is too tall to be a dwarf and too short to be a regular human, leaving her somewhere grossly in between. The stomach has more flab on it than Susan Boyle. The chest is almost microscopic. The legs are short and stumpy and wobble they're so fat.
But I can tell straightaway that the girl in the mirror is more than just her looks. She's also that girl that always says the wrong thing, that thinks she's so smart but clearly isn't, the girl who talks too loud with that ridiculously high pitched and irritating voice. She's the girl who tries so hard to stand out and be different from everyone else, even spending £140 on boots that no-one else wears but everyone loved only to find so many other people wearing them. This is a girl who fails at everything she does. She tries to comfort herself about her awful looks and awful voice by telling herself that she can always make up for it with her personality. But she can't, she's bitchy and judgemental with an awful temper. She's the worlds worst hypocrite and is infallibly rude to anyone who annoys her, and that takes ever so little. She's selfish and, when push comes to shove, will always put herself before others. She is all talk and never does what she says. She believes all the time that she's so wonderful but is proved wrong time and time again. She gets jealous of people who are fucked up - and what kind of selfish cow does that!? She says it's because she "complains all the time although she has nothing to complain about and they do" but that's bullshit. Everyone can see that she just wants the attention, she lives off the attention. And she slags off the other people who do because they do it in a way she doesn't like. All she wants is too be loved. But she's such a hateful creature that even she can't love herself. Everyone who encounters her is forced to loathe her.
She has one last line of defense. It doesn't matter who she is or what she's like, she can always hide behind her writing. After all, that should give her a purpose. And she's talented at that right? Well no. If you're reading this and/or have read any other posts on this blog you will see that she is an awful writer and could never use that as her life.
So what does that leave her? A lost and talentless, ugly nobody with no purpose, no reason to live and no-one to care? Is there anything for her in this world? Is there any point in her being here at all? My guess is that she has nothing to look forward to but the end.
But I can tell straightaway that the girl in the mirror is more than just her looks. She's also that girl that always says the wrong thing, that thinks she's so smart but clearly isn't, the girl who talks too loud with that ridiculously high pitched and irritating voice. She's the girl who tries so hard to stand out and be different from everyone else, even spending £140 on boots that no-one else wears but everyone loved only to find so many other people wearing them. This is a girl who fails at everything she does. She tries to comfort herself about her awful looks and awful voice by telling herself that she can always make up for it with her personality. But she can't, she's bitchy and judgemental with an awful temper. She's the worlds worst hypocrite and is infallibly rude to anyone who annoys her, and that takes ever so little. She's selfish and, when push comes to shove, will always put herself before others. She is all talk and never does what she says. She believes all the time that she's so wonderful but is proved wrong time and time again. She gets jealous of people who are fucked up - and what kind of selfish cow does that!? She says it's because she "complains all the time although she has nothing to complain about and they do" but that's bullshit. Everyone can see that she just wants the attention, she lives off the attention. And she slags off the other people who do because they do it in a way she doesn't like. All she wants is too be loved. But she's such a hateful creature that even she can't love herself. Everyone who encounters her is forced to loathe her.
She has one last line of defense. It doesn't matter who she is or what she's like, she can always hide behind her writing. After all, that should give her a purpose. And she's talented at that right? Well no. If you're reading this and/or have read any other posts on this blog you will see that she is an awful writer and could never use that as her life.
So what does that leave her? A lost and talentless, ugly nobody with no purpose, no reason to live and no-one to care? Is there anything for her in this world? Is there any point in her being here at all? My guess is that she has nothing to look forward to but the end.
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