Wrote this out on another blogging site. I think it was a decent post, so reposting it here.

Christmas time, it’s Christmas time,
How flawed is your message?
Christmas time, it’s Christmas time,
How flawed is your message?
You’re never thought of,the year round,
Until it’s too late, we are bound,
To buy gifts at Christmas time,
No meaning left to signify.
Christmas time, it’s Christmas time,
How flawed is your message?
Christmas time, it’s Christmas time,
How flawed is your message?
We used to think of happiness,
But we’re not children (God help us.)
Commercialism is at fault,
Shops don’t care, they want things sold.
Christmas time, it’s Christmas time,
How flawed is your message?
Christmas time, it’s Christmas time,
How flawed is your message?



Sorry if anyone finds this offensive. I just wrote this because I think Christmas lacks any meaning nowadays, especially to me, now knowing about its origin yet not believing in a specific deity, and still mindlessly celebrating. As a child I used to get ridiculously excited and stayed up to catch Santa delivering presents- my family was never very religious, but they did get into the festive spirit. Once, I heard footsteps coming down the corridor, when I lived at my fathers house, and I closed my eyes excitedly and pretended to sleep as ‘Santa’ put presents in the stocking by my bed. He sat on my bed. I was really excited, and really wanted to see, but there was something stopping me. There was this feeling that it would end the anticipation I always felt.
After he left my room, and I was sure he was out of the corridor, I raced into my brothers room to wake him up and tell him that the presents had come, and that Santa might still be here. We got really worked up, and tiptoed down the corridor to see if we could see Santa. We could see the light in the living room turned on, and we both assumed that it was him. But neither of us were brave enough to peek our head around the corner and look. I could hear my brothers heart beating, and I’m sure it was the same vice versa. It was pretty much the most exciting night of my entire childhood. It was also the first, and only all nighter I’ve ever pulled.
I was at the age that people were just starting to disbelieve. I went back to school when the holidays stopped, and when people asked each other what Santa gave them for Christmas, there were kids who were telling them that Santa didn’t exist. I gave them my recap of Christmas Eve, and how I knew that Santa actually sat on my bed. In my heart and in my head, I was firmly convinced. I even told them “He was heavier than my mum and my dad put together!” (Years later, I found out that it was my mum who did all of the Christmas-related delivery, and I still feel guilty for that comment.) And I convinced everyone else too.
That’s what I think Christmas, and Santa is about. The ability to be convinced purely by faith. This is for Christians and non religious people alike. I mean, isn’t that what Christianity is? Faith. There is a certain magic held in the upkeeping of faith, and this is why I respect Christianity, and almost every other religion I know of. I think children epitomise the atmosphere of Christmas. I really miss that magical element; that night is the last I’d experienced of it. I think by the next Christmas my faith in Santa had been taken away.Yet the magic of Christmas still remained, for a while, at least. Because I was a child, and the simple act of being a child, of bliss, and ignorance, brings some alternate meaning to almost everything.

Now, there’s nothing. Gifts bought simply because of an event that no longer holds any meaning to me. It actually brings up a feeling of guilt inside of me.

Nevertheless, even if I no longer enjoy the feeling of Christmas, I hope at least some of you retain some magic.I wish all of you a merry Christmas, or simply a happy holidays.

I... I think today was important.
I try very hard not to cry in front of people. My mother and my old counselor have been the only people who have seen me properly cry in the past few years.
Until today.
I think I'm beginning to trust you.
Don't scoff at the word 'beginning'.
It takes a lot.
And don't be worried either. I'm glad I cried. It had been too long.
I need some way of relieving myself from the stock of feelings I feel I have to build up.
You already know I barely tell anyone anything.
Having had depression, and still suffering from frequent patches where I sink ridiculously low, I think it's understandable that I need to cry, and I think it also gives a reason for the lack of knowledge people have about me directly. I'm not about to burden someone with my feelings when they occur often.
Crying is probably a healthy thing. It doesn't mean I'll cry every time I see you, I just think that today was a step in the right direction. Don't worry, please.

I love you.

I like having friends.
I don't have very many. Less, this year.
I really would appreciate being able to sit and talk with someone again.
There was one point in my life where I was surrounded by people like that.
I've become much less open and much more loud.
I'm really not sure how that's happened.
I've found someone I love, who I can't imagine life without.
I've discovered that I don't want to spend time with all of the friends who are available to me, yet I want to spend time with people who are off limits because of either emotional or physical distance.
I think that's why I enjoyed the picnic. It felt like I had friends.
I doubt many people would really care all too much if I didn't speak to them for the rest of their lives.

I dislike growing older.
I turn 16 on Saturday.
This is not good news.
Time; back off.

Everyone who has done less than me in the way of pretty much everything, thinks that I've done more, and everyone who's done less than me thinks I've done less.
I've either got to tell people things or let people make assumptions.
None of those options I like.

What on earth..?

Last night I was feeling pretty terrible. I wake up this morning, finish reading a biography of Billy Connolly, and I feel amazing. Not physically, I'm really sore, but emotionally I feel very free.
Last night I finished a diary which I started in January 2008. I was feeling pretty worked up about a lot of things, and now I don't see why I was worried about the majority of them to start off with.

I had an amazing time yesterday. I went to Kings Park and had a picnic with people I had only once met previously (last week), but for two of them who are in my drama class. Actually, I'd not met the majority of them at all, maybe half at tops. I'm so glad I've been introduced to them. I'm only completely comfortable with one person in my life, or at least, I was, and about half an hour into it I felt completely myself. I think it was something to do with how open and comfortable everyone else seemed to be in their own right. This just as an example- I think there were seven, eight, or nine openly gay people there. I don't have a problem with gays, quite the opposite, but I've never actually been in an environment with a lot of people (There were about 30-40) in which gays feel they can be open. It was lovely to see people so comfortable with themselves. I think, in the 10 short hours I've spent with these people, I've found something I've been missing for a goddamn long time, though I'm not sure exactly what it is.
I was told a couple of things by a few people that got me a little worried, and I was even more worried that when I confronted someone about it, their attitude still seemed to be much the same. This is only a small hurdle, but if I don't discuss it, I know I can dismiss it. The past is the past and people do change, if only slightly.
Other worries I've decided are inconsequential, because my future is my future, and I should spend my time focusing on trying to make the present as good as I can in preparation for the future rather than waste my time worrying about it.
I feel incredibly optimistic and happy as of this morning.
Where has that weight from my shoulders gone?

Sometimes I get sick of myself.

When I get worked up, I do stupid, grand exits. And it's not like I can go back to the person I storm away from, or reprimand, or anything. And it's going to lose me many friends. I just get annoyed at people not making effort. That's what it is, every time. Maybe it's me being paranoid that they're not making an effort, or maybe they are actually not making an effort.
I always regret it afterwards, no matter what the circumstance. And I want to just sign back in, or walk back in, all casual. Having done that, you can't.
And I feel guilty, and terrible.
But I can't stop myself from doing it.

Terrified, angry, and sad.

Thank you Father. Thank you so much.
I expected you to say no, but for you to crush me so effortlessly? No, I'm reacting badly. It wasn't too bad, what you said.
"Hey Dad, I'm meant to be part of a performance on the twelfth of December, which is a Sunda-"
"Yeah, you can go."
That shut me down for a minute or tow. I plucked up the courage to finish my question.
"I... I was wondering if you'd like to go?"
Straight off the bat, you were. And not with the reason against it I was expecting.
"I'm not interested in the theatre."
Not even your own daughter? You have never come to see anything I have ever been a part of. The only reason you ever went to see Callan's soccer games was because he was a boy, you are a sexist bigot, and he was doing something that you forced him to do. You know, I asked to play soccer. You told me that I'd be better suited to netball.
I asked to play soccer quite often actually. Almost every game of Callan's. He had about seven years worth of soccer. That's quite a few games.
You know, you backed up your reasoning when you saw I was upset that you didn't want to come. But you backed it up with "My father never once came to see any of my soccer games. I was in the top league for boys, I was in the fucking Bristol Boys." Yet you always say you aspire to be different to your father. And you went to the majority of Callan's games.
Fuck you, hey. Fuck you.
Actually, I lie. You did come to see something I was a part of. One assembly in primary school. Of course, because of that one incident, that makes it all better, that shows you've supported my dreams.
About two years ago, I did a performance that you couldn't come to. Callan taped it. Upon showing you the playback, the things you said were:
"Your costume is all wrong. You should have got Lak to make it for you."
"Your voice is too quiet."
"You shouldn't move about as much."
Then,at the end.
"You're not going to make it as an actor."
Not one word of praise. Of fucking course you supported me.
In the current situation, as an afterthought, you added the reason I thought you would. "I'm not going if your mum is there."
Yeah, it's a huge auditorium style church with quite a number of seats. I'm sure you're going to end up next to mum, and there's such a huge possibility of having to talk to her.
Even so, that, just that, I wouldn't have minded. It's no more understandable, but it would have been far less hurtful.
Later I asked you why you didn't like the theatre. You told me that it was full of pompous full-of-themselves twats. I said thanks, and you told me that you weren't calling me one, that I was involved in an amateur production, I hadn't reached that stage yet. Besides, my dream wasn't to act. Actually dad, my first dream was never to become a teacher, it was always to act. But oh well. I've changed that for you.
Anyway, I asked why you didn't want to come if an amateur production was different. You said "You just haven't experienced it yet."
I'm pretty sure I know who I work with better than you do, Father. Anyway, that isn't accurate reasoning.
"Besides, that isn't the only reason I don't like theatre."
"What are the others?"
You were silent.
"Okay, if you can't answer that, why did you supply that reasoning as the first reason against coming to my production?"
"It wasn't against your production, it was against theatre."
"But you used it in direct correlation to not coming to my production- the first reason you supplied, straight off the bat, was that you didn't like theatre; now I've asked you why you don't like theatre and you give me that reason.. does that not indicate that that's why you don't want to come to my production? Yet, you're contradicting yourself."
I was actually so fucking proud of myself, I was holding back tears and I still managed to give a coherent sentence. Yes, I'm weak like that, and react badly to small things.
"You're producing an amateur production, that doesn't apply to you!"
"Yet that's why you don't like theatre."
"Yes."
"And you're not coming to my production because you don't like theatre."
"Yes. Among other reasons."
"Yet that was the first reason you supplied, and the first reason you gave for that was that people from theatre are full of themselves and twats."
"Yes."
"And you believe amateur actors exhibit some of these qualities?"
"Yes."
"You believe people in my production exhibit some of these qualities?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Thankyou."
I walked to my room.
Later, when I came out, you asked if Callan and Danica were going.
I was feeling kind of bitter at this point. I knew you only asked it to see if they would be there for you on that Sunday. I ignored that and said "I don't know, would they want to? It's only me after all."
You didn't hear it, neither did you hear it the next three times. When you did hear it, you were silent for a second.
"What do you mean, it's only you?"
"Well, it's only going to be me they're going for, out of obligation. I don't like obligation. Why should they? If they want to go, they can go. If they don't, they don't."
"Jesus Christ! I asked a simple fucking question!"
I've never sworn in front of you, but I was so tempted to then.
"It's their decision. Don't ask me." Then, because I'm weak, and I was trying to hide tears, I came to my room, where I'm writing this out now, and posting it up somewhere later, so I can look back at your wonderful encouragement. You were right the first time you saw the playback. I'm never going to get anywhere in acting. So I'm giving up. Giving up the only passion I have nowadays. I suppose I'm crap enough that it doesn't matter. And I'm going to tell everyone not to come to the performance that would be coming because of me.
You know, I actually hate you. Once again, you've brought me to an ultimatum. I'm going to tell you all about my life after my sixteenth birthday. All about it. And then, judging by your reaction, I'm going to decide whether I want you to see me or not.
Fuck your concert tickets. Fuck the stereo. Fuck my clarinet, fuck my guitar.
You can have it all back. Sell it. Make some money. Should come to a grand and a half. Go on a holiday. Fuck off and never come back. I'm an ungrateful little bitch who doesn't deserve you, or your money.
Probably what you think.
Just, please, remember. Just because you gave up dreams of having a family and leading a happy life, doesn't mean you have to crush someone else's dreams. You've already crused mine. I've given up. I'm pursuing a sensible job, in a sensible career. Little Miss Sensibility. You've already crushed one person, you don't have to move on to everybody else.
You can live a happy life without a family. It probably doesn't help your cause tormenting the only family you have left. I respect you so much, Father. I just cannot live with this anymore. I'm fucking weak. It's time to make a decision.
It's not just this. It's everything. This, just this small thing, has pushed me so close to the edge, and I can fall one way or the other, but either way, I'm going to fall, and I'm fucking glad.
It's everything that's contributed to it. All those hours of arguments, of one sided yelling, of crying, and insults and death threats to mum and violence threats to us kids and mum and and occasional actual violence. It's all come to a head, and I'm not seeing another useless counsellor. I'm a fucking fantastic liar. I was still suicidal when I left my last, but she thought I was fine. These last few months have been the happiest of my life, and now, you've come along and made me feel like this.

You went to your room and lay on your bed for two hours at the end of that day.
Yes, you have fucking depression. I'm probably making it worse.
Deal with it. I've had to. Don't fucking complain that you want to kill yourself when I have tried four times. I was pretty fucking close to trying again on Sunday night. Not as close as I have been before. But it was because of YOU. YOU were the cause of three of those attempts. No, that's wrong. I was the cause, because I reacted badly to the situations YOU put me in.
Thanks.
It's down to one of us to make a decision.
So I'm starting it.

Don't read this, please.

No point of writing it, is there?
Read, but you might lose a lot of respect or love for me if you choose to do so. A forewarning. I'm not a good person. I'm fucking terrible.
I just thought that some honesty in my life would be appreciated, and some knowledge that I have led a pretty disgusting life, especially in the past year, and that I didn't deserve respect.

My mind doesn't know what to think anymore.
I've drifted apart from so many people of late.
A year ago, I thought I was in love, though I hadn't been in a relationship with said person since April of that year. I would have done anything to keep the best friendship I had alive. It was still alive, a damnsite more than it is now, at least. It wasn't love, and I'm glad I never spoke it out loud. He never left my mind though; every second thought was about him. When it came to the opportunity to muck around with another guy, I did, just to see if I could focus my mind on someone else, and thought none the worse of myself for it, because it never developed into anything serious. Boy, I regret it now. Well, I don't, because every one of my experiences contribute to who I am now. The whole thing lasted about two, three weeks, tops. Also, before that, I'd never kissed a guy. The beginning of this year was the first time. Then I met my ex boyfriend, on the 20th of January, on a camp. Well, I'd met him before, but this time, he'd decided that he'd fallen for me, so I pretended right back. That was the first camp I've been on that I hadn't enjoyed, because we were constantly together, and I would have preferred to spend time with friends. But no. Every time we were together, someone came up to us and told us how cute we were. I covered a grimace and in the voice I have which means I know something to be true, but I'm denying it, I said "no way, I'm not cute, never will be."
Which is true enough.
I fucking hate obligations. On the bus on the way back from the three/four day camp, he basically had his arms around me the whole time, and though I tried to turn around and talk to my friends, who were sitting behind us, it didn't really work. So I leaned forward on the seat, and he complained that he wouldn't be able to hug me. After I leaned back reluctantly, he told me that he loved me.
I was stuck. Love? Fuck that. I tolerated him, maybe liked him. How in the fucking world can you love someone after four days?
In the smallest voice I've ever heard myself with, I mumbled back that I loved him too.
Stupidly enough, I thought he wouldn't ask for my mobile. I felt obligated to give it, seeing as I had been dimwitted enough to bring my phone out and get some other numbers from kids at camp.
So I still managed to convince myself that he wouldn't contact me.
He did.
Called me that night.
And I hadn't broken things off with the other guy... I mean, that wasn't a relationship, but things on the side are not honest, and I would never partake in them.
So the next day, I caught up with him and told him that we'd have to end things. He didn't seem too distraught, but we didn't really know each other well. I only knew him because I bumped into a primary school friend at the shop, and he was one of her friends, and we kind of hit it off. To an extent.
Saying that, since that day, I hadn't heard either from or of him. There's an example of someone I've drifted away from. Though I doubt I would have actually retained much friendship with him; I regret the whole thing now.
Mind you, I still wasn't over the person I hadn't dated since a year before. Oh heck, names don't matter when the people concerned don't read, and the identity of the people are obvious anyway. Ryan. His name was Ryan. The person I had a fling with? Dean. My ex boyfriend? Daniel.
Happy, names sorted, off we go.
So Daniel met the family, and I started to feel something for him. Nothing like love, perhaps more of a crush? The type of feelings I had towards guys in year three and upwards. This was after about three months. The feelings disappeared after about five. I wanted to break up with him from the first day I met him, I couldn't bring myself to. I stopped seeing my friends because I was spending all my free weekend time with him. I took to signing off on MSN when he came online, which, thankfully, wasn't often, because I was in the middle of developing a bloody fantastic friendship. I still answered his calls, which were almost nightly, but our conversations, which had never been good to start with, basically consisted of him doing homework because of his boredom at my not responding, and me laughing at something someone said on MSN.
We did a lot of things that I didn't want to do. Which is probably why it's so surprising now, and also why I don't make decisions. I never went to the farthest stage though, and I'm glad. I know a few of my friends think I have, some of my closer friends, even. I guess rumours are what arise when you don't tell anyone anything.
Also, I'm just going to say this, and this is going to make me sound incredibly bitchy. Understand, this has nothing to do with anything, I just want to say it.
Fucking terrible kisser. I don't want my face eaten off, thanks, neither do I want your whole tongue in my mouth. Somehow, you only just learnt by the end of us that it was not a good thing to unhinge your jaw.

Eventually, after the last holidays had ended, I told him that I was thinking our relationship was deteriorating, and I wanted to save it, but I didn't know how.
It was that moment when I learnt that... he actually did love me. I was completely bullshitting my way through his apologies, and he promised that he'd try, and that he knew where I was coming from. I was coming from 7 months of not love. I asked him to try and remain friends.
In the next two weeks we had one rushed phone conversation. After those two weeks had passed, he'd obviously thought about it. He signed onto MSN, asked me how much hope I had left for us, I said that I'd like to see him in person to determine that (or you could take it as I was going to break up with him in person), and then... I can't remember his exact words, but it resulted in him dumping me in a short sentence or two. Later that night, his mum commented on his changed relationship status, which I, being the bitch that I am, liked. "I don't understand people who cheat."
I defended myself, saying that I'd never cheated, and if Daniel was feeding his mother lies, then I was glad I had nothing to do with him anymore. He blocked and deleted me.
Being as stuffed up as I am, the bloody fantastic friendship I'd mentioned earlier? Well, I'd started to feel more for the person than just friendship, a couple of weeks before Daniel broke up with me.
He was the first person who knew, followed by everyone who follows me on Tumblr. Ryan follows me on Tumblr. He started a conversation with me that night. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, surprisingly. I'm in a state of shock, but I'm not that bothered." "Oh. That's odd. That's what I've felt like with every relationship I've been in, when it's ended."
That was it. The moment that I realised I didn't love Ryan, didn't even like him in that way. It took me from March of last year until August of this one.
I let go of two feelings in one night. One that had kept me down for a bloody fucking age. One that never really existed.
Two weeks later, I started going out with another person.
The person I'd started developing feelings for.
A relationship, in my opinion, needs a good, solid friendship at its base.
I had that with what I consider my two most successful relationships.
This one... this one is unbelievable. I feel more for Joe than I ever have for another person. I am in love. In love, I don't just love him. And after being such a horrible person, and manipulating two guys purposefully to help me get over the unintentional manipulation of one, it sounds so false. But it's so very, very true.
I've never believed in love. I've fallen into something that I don't rightly believe. But by god, I've fallen into it. And I have a feeling that the feelings might be returned.
And it won't last, because nothing good in life ever does.
I'm enjoying it while it is possible to do so.

I'm a fucking horrible person, what I've done isn't right, and I don't deserve what I have.

I try and persuade myself I care.

I get knocked down, I don't get up again.

I don't care anymore, and the thing is, that's really upsetting.

HYPOCRITE.

Will the anonymous commenter reveal themselves? I'm reasonably sure I know who it is, I just want confirmation.

Control, well, it's slipping right through my hands. These days turned out nothing like I had planned...

So I'll see a text from you, and I'll smile a ridiculous amount and do a little bit of a happy shimmy from my shoulders.
I'll spend the day with you, lying in a park, or in one of our rooms, watching a movie or IT Crowd on a computer or just paying attention to each other and only each other.
We're letting each other become the centres of our respective worlds too quickly.
I've always lived by the belief that your world revolves around yourself, and nothing will change that, your life is always going to be the centre of your imagination, your thoughts. It's not true, it's not fucking true.

You are making me question so many of my convictions.
I'm fucking terrified.
Not of you, of the situation we've got ourselves into. I love you so fucking much.
I just don't know if that's a good thing for a teenager. I honestly don't know if I'm ready to have my beliefs rocked to the core.
I've never been attracted to anyone like you in my life. I thought I knew what I wanted. It's becoming apparent now that I don't. I don't think I ever will. Will you be a part of my ever? God knows.

I'm never going to make a promise about not leaving you that involves the words "never" "ever" or "always". People change. That's a key truth of life. You will change, I will change, our beliefs will change. Who knows. I might be gone before the end of the year, knowing my mental stability and how close I've come already. God, I hope not, but...
Maybe we'll change in a way that'll still be compatible. Maybe we'll change as a result of each other.
Feelings will change. For the better or worse, I don't know.

I don't have faith in much. It's going to take a damned lot to have complete faith in you.

Terrible mood, has been all day, which is part of the reason to me this afternoon wasn't as good as it could have been, and part of the reason most of my day was based on lies.
Bet no-one noticed.
Happyhappyhappyhappyhappycoverups.

This post made no sense.

Ah.
Tears again.

One of the things I'd say that you don't know about me.
Control is one of the most important things in the world to me.
That's why I'm scared, that's why I don't give in to much, that's why I resist.

Great Expectations.

When I'm happy I can't write, I don't have anything to write about apart from gushing about how brilliant my life is, etcetera. So this post is going to try to avoid that, but I feel like writing, and I don't often write positive blogs.

I can't believe how happy I am.

I have bruises on my feet from jumping on the dance floor at the river cruise in high heels, I have a headache, the light is too bright, I didn't get enough sleep last night. But I have this massive grin that's just staying there, and it'd grow even wider if I was talking to/ I was with someone in particular.

I've never believed in love until this point. I thought "Hey, you're stuck with a decent enough person, might as well make the most of it and hope you come out alright."
Now I've fallen fast and so fucking hard. There hasn't been any ground coming to greet me though, and I don't know if there ever will be.
I'm in love. I hate to admit it. Teenage relationships? At any other point I would have said "bah!" and scoffed. Even with my last relationship.
It was friendship with a few benefits, and I mistakenly called it love.
And it's not just loving someone at the moment. I am in love. There is no way to describe it other than that. No way at all.
Two fucking months and I've fallen this far.
I'm going to make some really stupid decisions. This is all new to me. I'm anticipating that mistakes will be made and boundaries I've set will be broken.
I am so scared at the moment.
I've never ever cared for someone as much as I care for someone now. I'm actually letting myself imagine a sort of future ahead, which might be stupid, but I don't care. It's not going to be something I regret, no matter what happens.
I never thought it was possible to feel this much. I'm scared out of my wits that something will happen, something will wrench these feelings right out of my chest, because that's where I feel them. I know emotions belong in your brain, but these feelings live somewhere in my chest that isn't my heart. And if somehow something is ripped out of there, I will actually cave in, I will shrivel, and I won't be able to stay who I am. There will be a black hole there, and it will take the better part of me away, because these feelings are right in the middle, are the foundation of everything that is me at the moment. I'd have to be bloody strong to avoid being completely erased.
I sound incredibly corny, and stupid, and teenagerish.
I am incredibly corny, and stupid, and teenagerish.
Especially for keeping those feelings there. But that's where they're meant to stay.
This is the highest extent that trust can go to.
I am putting all of myself at risk.
I hope I don't hit the ground, so, so, so, so very much.

My mother is making me see a psychologist.
My mother is making me see a psychologist.
My mother is making me see a psychologist.

As soon as exams are finished, she's going to try and get an appointment booked.
Of course, I'm going to try and talk her out of it before then. I'm not sure how effective that will be.
Fucking hell.
This is what comes of telling people things.
I'm going to stop blogging as much. People can find out about me far too easily this way, and all I ever do is complain, so I'm going to stop.
There is nothing actually wrong with me; there are other people who need far more help. Sure, I have my down points, but fuck that, other people have actual problems that they're dealing with.
I might be prone to depression and... tendencies which are less than helpful, but I don't give a fuck. Other people matter more, I don't want to be taking up some psychologist's valuable time when my life is absolutely fine, it's my brain and my responses that are fucked up. You know, I almost started crying in school again today. FOR NO REASON. Let's not waste our time on this waste of space, let's deal with actual important issues.
I've got myself out of severe depression twice. I'm going to continue to be able to do it. I don't need a fucking psychologist, I understand psychology and depression a damnsite more than a number of other individuals.
Let them use their time on someone that's going to be responsive, has real problems, and is worth it, Mother. Not me.
I'm not a child. I can make my own decisions; especially regarding my mental health. I do not want to see a psychologist.

I've felt like crying since I woke up this morning.
I cried for an hour between five and six today.
I had a massive argument with my mum, the biggest since last year at least, and I was tempted to catch a train and never come back, but that's not even why I was crying.

Fucking hell.
What is wrong with me?

Fucking ridiculous.

Ah. I dun like this. I'm not keeping two feet on steady ground. But I love it, because I'm not.

Before I go to sleep every night... It's a damnsite more you than Tetris in my head. Though Tetris is quite prominent.

An Open Letter That You Don't Have To Read.

Father.
I don't know if you have realised this, but I haven't called you 'Dad' for over a year now.
I also am a bit late in telling you pretty much everything that's going on in my life.
Well, here's the catchup.
I was diagnosed with clinical depression at the end of year nine. Two years ago, almost to the day. For six months before that, the longest I went without crying myself to sleep was three days. So I'd quite appreciate you not telling me that I don't know what depression is, that I don't know what it's like to not want to get out of bed in the morning and face the day. I do, more than any teenager really should, but I suppose there's a lot of us about now.
Today you told me that I'd become introverted in my teenage years. Why you notice things that aren't true- I've stood up to a you a damnsite more in the last six months than ever before- and you can't notice things like how I haven't felt any love for you for the past few years astounds me. How can one man be so oblivious to what he doesn't want to see?
You're constantly putting me and my gender down, telling me that I'm not strong enough physically or emotionally because I'm a female, telling me that being good at English is impractical and doesn't make me smart, and that I should be good at maths, telling me that I'll never be a lawyer, I'm not intelligent enough, an actress because I'm not good enough and I don't have the right connections. I already know I'm no good, but that doesn't mean I can't dream.
Dreams can be good for a person you know. It gives them hope.
Thanks for crushing mine.

And then you tell me that I'm not confident enough to succeed? Ever think that maybe, just maybe, you could have played a part in it? I used to be an optimistic, happy person. The only way to survive around you is at least temporarily convert to a cynical realist. Or a pessimist, if that's what you'd like to call it.

My change wasn't temporary.

Now, I don't actually believe there is much good in the world. Let alone good that can happen to me.
At the moment, I should be having what is the best time of my life. I am, really. But something is stopping me from enjoying it to its fullest. I'm constantly doubting myself and the people around me. I almost suspect a Truman Show-esque elaborate scheme, set up merely to fool me and provide entertainment to others.
What's a lie anymore?
I've become so filled with conspiracies that I don't know if I am one myself.
Fuck me, I just sound paranoid. But it's true.

It's not your fault.
It's my fault, it's the way I've adapted. Not just to you, to everything that's happened to me.
Doesn't mean I enjoy it.
Jus' sayin'.

More people than I expected read that last post.
Since posting it, my mood has been steadily improving. I don't know whether it's been because of how lovely people are, or if it's because writing it let some of it out.
Now I'm almost happy.
I guess, to everyone who did read it, and acknowledged that they did, thank you.
The situation has actually worsened, but I'm refusing to let myself care, and it's a lot easier after that.

This is what's up.

I've felt like crap since Tuesday night. People... a very small number... have only known since last night though. I feel bad not telling anyone why, but I'm not letting myself complain directly, so if people give a shit, they can read on here. If you don't, feel absolutely free to bugger off. I wouldn't read if I were you. All it is, is complaints.
The other day I was talking to a few friends, and I mentioned offhandedly that I haven't had a best friend since primary school.
For one, I think best friend is a silly label to place on people.
For two, I was completely, utterly, absolutely lying.
The reason my drama class has directly saved my life is a completely different one to the reason it has indirectly saved my life. Indirectly, it's because of a specific person that I met through drama. We started talking, we grew stupidly, amazingly close, the way only teenagers do. We fell in like, and he fell back out pretty quickly. I took a while longer, but eventually, I did too.
Before that, he was my best friend. I've only ever managed to connect with one other person at the same level I connected with him at. I don't care at all for the relationship part of our friendship, not at all. We could talk about anything and we had, and still have, so much in common.
I fucking miss him as a friend like hell though, and the thing is, I see him every fucking week.
After we broke up, we drifted apart. We tried to keep talking, but there wasn't anything there to talk about.
Every few months for the past year or so, we've had an emotional late night reconciliation over MSN. Perhaps he's read one of my blogs, which are generally depressive and whiny as fuck, perhaps I find out he's in a bit of a rut and needs someone just to talk to. So he'll start the conversation, because I won't ever start a conversation with him, not now.
So we'll talk, and we'll both promise to make more of an effort, and confess how much we miss each other, and then... the conversation will die, and nothing comes of it.
This time around on another blogging site, he was asking for questions, I asked how he was, and he tells me he isn't so great.
Mind you, I'm already feeling like crap, for no particular reason at all.
So I ask him why.
He doesn't respond for a while.
When he does it's on MSN, to say he won't post it on Tumblr.
Basically, he's starting to feel more alone than he ever has before, he's hopelessly in love with his best friend, who in turn doesn't speak to him more than about once a week, he hates everything, and everyone else seems to feel free to walk out of his life and replace him.
Now, he's describing exactly what I used to feel about a year ago, because of him. And when I was feeling it, he paid no attention to it whatsoever.
Then he says that he feels guilty, because he's a hypocrite, because he allowed himself to drift out of my life, and replaced me.
Which is completely fucking true, nothing could be closer. Two weeks after we broke up, he started dating his new best friend and probably would have left me for dead if it wasn't for my repeated attempts at conversation, to try and reconcile some of that fucking amazing friendship.
Which is somewhat the reason I barely start conversations anymore. Rejection after rejection tends to lead to not trying. With anyone.
But of course, I being who I am, say "No, no. Don't worry about it. Everyone's hypocritical. It was as much my fault as yours."
What I really want to say is more along the lines of "Okay, could you like, apologise instead of just saying how guilty you feel? Also, you pushed me away. There was no semblance of drifting."
I don't, won't, shan't, couldn't. I'm not that person. No matter how much I attract it, I avoid confrontation, except with my family, and when someone does something completely against my views.
My fucking god. I miss him. I don't know what the fuck I miss anymore.
Him as a person? No. Maybe. Yes. No. Yes. Maybe.
His friendship?
Yes, fucking definitely.
Oh, the conversation.
It ended up in nothing. No goodbye, just a couple of Be Right Back's on both sides and no further continuation.
My fault, probably.
And today, in drama? I made some attempts at conversation, I laughed at a few of his jokes and replied right back.
He stared straight through me.

Of fucking course he doesn't give a shit.
Should have figured that out a while ago.
What's caused my mood to be the worst in a while?
I've given up completely. Deleted him on MSN.
Finally accepted I'm never going to have one of the closest friends of my life back. A year and a half of trying means it's not worth it anymore.
I'm in tears.

Reality has finally hit me.

As in, I realise it's real. I still haven't really accepted it, but I know it is.
This year has been the best of my life. And these last two months or so have been the highlight of that. I don't think I've ever been as happy as some of the moments over them. If this is it, if something happens to me now, I won't mind as much. I know I've had the opportunity for the best times of my life, and I know that though it could probably get even better, I've been happy.

Still, I'd prefer it to continue than it to end.

Thank you so much.

I'm honestly worried right now. I've fallen. If anything happens, I've put my all into it. I'm going to absolutely shatter.
I'm putting my trust in a relationship. Funny, huh? I talk about them with disdain and all I do is scoff.

Hypocrite that I am.

Some sort of security, some sort of attachment. I need it. I've finally found it in something that I never would have expected.
I sound really warped at the moment, I must. Normal people don't worry about things like control. Nor do they worry about relationships, in the same way that I do.

INAH. INAHINAHINAH.

I came off the computer for about an hour. I got off, and even though I wasn't feeling anything overwhelmingly terrible, I cried for half an hour straight.
My tear ducts don't have a clue when they should operate.

Going to stop posting blogs as much. Only when other friends of mine who blog will I allow myself to. It's too much.

Madness.

No clear intent behind opening this.

I'm going mad. Absolutely mad. I have no control over my thoughts at all.

Bad thing? If you'd faced me with that prospect a year or so ago, definitely. Now? No clue whatsoever.

So many things can change in a year.
My life has completely turned around since exactly two months ago. A good thing. I hope.

Today is the first Saturday since the beginning of the school year that I haven't actually done anything. Right now I'm sitting on my bed in my pyjamas, not even listening to music. I'm strangely entertained. Not bored at all.
Later I'll go for a bike ride. Perhaps bring my camera. I'm falling back in love with photography. I need it.

Heck, I'm starting to like life again.

Don't even know what the point of writing this was.

The first time I ever performed anything, I knew I'd fallen in love.
It was year five. We had to research a musician from a previous decade, and improvise a way of presenting our information to the class. I got given Jerry Lee Lewis, and did it in the form of an interview. Wrote it and everything, because back when I was younger, a day I didn't try my absolute best in schoolwork was a day left unlived. I memorised it all, my partner read it off the sheet. Still, something that day just clicked, and since then I've tried to become as involved as possible with acting. So much so that I've integrated it into real life pretty heavily. Now I can't always tell the difference between reality and the emotions I put on, and situations I'm in confuse the hell out of me.
Maybe throwing all of your self into something like that isn't such a good idea. I don't care though. It's a huge passion I have, and I know I'm okay at it, which is more than I can say for most other things other people feel a passion for.
I've been involved in a drama class outside of school for coming up to three years now. Twice it's saved my life, three times if you count indirectly.
It's one of the only constants I know.
At the moment, we're working on a play about suicide. When we first started it, I was pretty close to it myself.
There were two things that brought me out of that.
One of them was drama.
I remember the first time we actually sat and talked about suicide and its repercussions. We can't exactly avoid the subject if we're doing a play on it.
A couple of girls in my class brought up something called PostSecret. Someone had posted on this website, anonymously, that they was going to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge. An overwhelming number of people rose up and formed a group against it.
I don't even know why it affected me so much., I mean, it is touching and all, but I've heard so many stories like it... Nevertheless, I started to cry, and couldn't stop for the whole lesson. I told my teacher it was because one of my close friends had attempted it recently, which was true enough, but more it was because I was planning to. I'd actually set it all out, made sure no ends were left untied. I needed it. I had it all organised. A week or so later, I tried. But the thing that stopped me that day was thinking back on everyone in drama being so worried about me on that day, and the fact that I really felt the need to finish what I'd started.
No-one knew what was up, but even so... A girl posted a comment on my Facebook the day after, telling me that I was a beautiful person, etcetera, without even knowing anything near what I was feeling.

I'm actually sick of crying. People complain about not being able to, but so many people have seen me cry that I never would have wanted to.
It's a wonder that people don't know me inside and out, but I've heard from most people I know that I'm hard to.

But yeah. Doing this play has helped me come to a realisation. I don't know what realisation it is, but every time my drama teacher tells us that this play could maybe just change someones life, I think that it already has.

Acting hasn't just saved my life. It's the most important thing in it, other than people. I'd give anything to make it a career.

Irrationality

I need it to be the day.
I need my blinds to be as open as possible.
If I flood my room, if I flood myself with sunlight, I'll be fine, I'll be absolutely fine. I just need there to be a light other than my bedroom light. Not night. Not night. I'd give anything to walk on the beach in the sunlight right now, because then it'd be easier to do it all.
I'm going to have to force myself to think of warm sunbeams and safe hugs tonight, which means I'll wake up early, but I don't mind. It's better than rocking back and forth keeping away tears. Because that's what I've been doing. It hasn't accomplished very much.
Crying isn't an answer to anything, so I won't.
That's the worst day I've had since... I don't know.
I can feel my pulse.
You know, it's odd.
When I was a young girl, one of the best things about the world was my dad coming home. I grew to rely on his hugs more than my mothers, because I got them so rarely.
I've switched dependency utterly. Now there's only two people whose hugs really, absolutely matter.

You know, today is the first time since 2008 that I actually wanted to kill him. If I'd been in the kitchen during that, I actually would have attempted to, without thinking rationally. Most of the time it's just a feeling of not caring whether he lives or dies... it was a goddamn lot stronger today. Why?

Someone. Envelop me. Wrap me up. Keep me safe.

Worry.

All I need at the moment is a good friend.

I feel absolutely insignificant. I am absolutely insignificant.

I disagree that everything happens for a reason.
Some things happen because you choose to make them happen. Not some undefined omniscient reason.
Some things happen absolutely randomly. Gamblers can be lucky or unlucky.

I don't believe in any sort of fate at all. I'm not living my life for some predetermined destiny.
If parallel universes exist at every decision or every occurrence that could have changed someones life in a significant way, then there'd be four universes in which I had died, having been alive.

I'm wondering very much at the moment whether any of those four parallel universes, and their individual separate branches, are better off.
Probably.

My biggest fears are losing control, and not having people think.
I've become heavily intertwined with both of them.
Fuck.

I feel really heavy.

I've just spent the last hour and a half talking to first my father, then my mother, about tax, property ownership, government benefits and legal representation.

I feel like I'm under a lot of responsibility to communicate what they want through each other. If I get something wrong, then I could stuff up a damned lot of everything. Crap.
So my mother is ringing my father later tonight. Or she's going to try.
He just dropped me off back home, and he's going down to the pub straight after.
So I'm anticipating that he will be drunk. He is the most intimidating person I know without alcohol. He is worse when drunk.
They haven't spoken to each other directly for five years, and my father hates my mother as much, if not more than I hated him.

I think the best bet tonight will be to lock the door to my room, turn up my music as loud as possible, and ignore everything that goes on outside my door.

I can't let myself do anything more than be oblivious.

Ah well.

I'm revealing far too much, too soon, too quickly.

Oh shut up Brittany. You're just another whiny teenager. YOU ARE THE SAME AS EVERYONE ELSE.
Don't let yourself think any different.

I'm sorry for the lack of posts of late.
I just don't have anything to say when my mood changes this often. Well, I do, but it is all repetitive shit that means nothing.

I used to be able to manipulate words well. Now I can't write and make sense.

But I'm not in a bad mood.

I'm an idiot.

...

Listlessness and depression.
Not Depression with a capital D. Not slipping back into that again. Well, I damn well hope not.
I sometimes wonder if I fake all of this emotion. Fake it to myself. One person can't go through this much in a day and be called sane.
I guess I might not be.
The lacky band is stretched back as far as it can go.
I need a break, because I'm on my last string.
"And every paper girl needs at least one string, right?"

Here's a lesson.

It's a lot easier to hide emotion when the others around you are exhibiting the opposite to what you are feeling.
Especially when you consider them close.
The closer they are, the easier it gets.

The running away feeling has come back.
I want to pull up all my roots and leave.
Now I'm not certain whether I want to come back.

Perhaps I haven't convinced myself. I don't even know anymore.

I'm just happy.

When I'm happy, I have nothing to say.

I'm enjoying everything so much right now.

It's too good to be reality.
But it is.

I am a sadist.

A conversation with my ex boyfriend, mainly consisting of his excuses and him telling me what a great life he's leading now, and myself being unimpressed, has led to an even better mood.
I'm actually glad that he did what he did, because it means I've had the chance to see what type of person he actually is and that I wasn't entirely disillusioned.
This is why to be friends with someone beforehand is good. I know I haven't made any mistake now. I'm happy.

She was staring from the window for a while before she was aware of him behind her. She unclasped her hands and intertwined her fingers with his as his met her shoulders.
She didn't know what she was searching for, but she knew she didn't want to be where she was.
They remained that way for a few minutes, before she rose, turned and rested the bridge of her nose on the area between his neck and his shoulders. Moisture seeped through the neckline of his shirt, and her back shook.
His hand met the small of her back, and she stiffened.

...

Fuck this, I'm sitting in silence and I hate silence when I'm in moods like this.
I'm not going to remedy it this time. I'm gonna see if slamming some of it into the keyboard will help, and perhaps this mood won't come up again. For a while, at least. Hopefully.
Don't you get frustrated when your words get tangled up among letters they don't belong in?
I can never seem to get my meaning across nowadays. It's all just fucking words that don't say anything. I've relied on them all my life, I've been in love with them since I started to speak.
They aren't enough.
I am seriously considering just taking off somewhere. Just packing a bag of stuff, heading on a train to Perth and getting lost for a couple of days. Not taking my phone, not letting anyone reach me. I suppose it'd be easy enough to track my SmartRider, but by the time they figured to do that and found me I'd have had enough. I don't like tangles, and that's what I've currently got myself caught up in. If I escaped it for a couple of days maybe I'd come back knowing how to unravel it.
There is one person I am not either annoyed at or neutral towards at the moment. Only one person I have positive feelings, and positive feelings only, towards.
I can't seem to feel or think anything else. My mind isn't a blank slate, but only because it has memories living and repeating themselves. I just need to blow up at someone or something. The bottle is all shaken up, but the lid is screwed on too tight. Walls and barriers can be too effective.

I think far too much, and get pissed off all too easily.
I won't end up doing it. Not until at least the holidays. I'm not brave enough for that.
I'm a coward as well. Great.
Coward, realist, individual, someone who is easily angered, someone who hides almost everything. If I'd put that as my self concept I'd have been telling the truth. At least, most of it. None of the happy-go-lucky shit that I put down.
Why can't I just talk?
This is a fucking blog. Not a person.

I'm shivering insanely.

I'm stuck in the midst of a sea of pure life and I honestly think that merely two things are keeping me sane.
One is the reason I've been happier than I had been in over a year for the past week or so, overall. But it's also keeping me on the other side of sane as well. I cannot get it off my mind. I haven't been so paranoid or ecstatic or content or nervous or expectant or... There are just so many feelings, mostly positive, that are tied up in it.
It's hard not to fall when there isn't anything to grip onto. Falling is fantastic. Not looking forward to the end result, because unless it's a bottomless pit then I'm going to hit some form of ground.
Bloody realism getting in the way of my hopes.
The other is music.
But are they keeping me sane, or just grounded?
Dancing in front of my English class on the way to grab a dictionary is a little odd, especially when half of them have no respect for me to start off with. "That girl who gesticulates too often and can't keep still or quiet? Oh, her. No, I don't really care that much for her."
So is singing at the top of my lungs, though I don't have a voice to speak of. So is dancing delicately when you are not a delicate person, physically.
I'm in a really odd mood at the moment.
I want to just curl up, either with someone to watch a movie, or with a book to... well, read. Then I want to sleep, and not wake up.
I feel like I should be lasting forever, that this moment won't end...

I'd pay someone to come and organise my thoughts.

I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.
I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.
I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.
I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.
I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.
I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.
I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.
I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.
I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.
I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.
I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.
I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.
I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.
I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.
I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.
I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.
I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.
I don't know what love is, I'm a teenager.

Then why the hell does it feel like I do?

Annnd back down again.

Great, fucking great. Love this so much.
I've been up and down so much over the past three days, I think I'm starting to lose my mind. Or it's already lost and somehow I'm retaining some semblance of sanity.
For Christ's sake.
My father has such a monopoly on my feelings. Whatever mood I'm in, he has the power to turn it on its head. I was like I was yesterday, happy and bouyant, until about quarter past ten this morning. Then he called to say that he'd be dropping a laptop charger off, because mine is broken and he'd ordered one in. He also asked me to ask my younger brother if he was doing anything, if he wanted to earn some extra money cleaning his gutters today. My brother was still in bed, and as soon as he heard that he'd have to get ready in 10/15 minutes there was a flat out no. My father went huffy, started swearing, then hung up the phone. About 20 minutes later, he pulls up in the driveway, hands me my laptop charger, tells me my brother is a lazy fuck, and starts to pull away. I say sorry. He stops, has a full on one-sided yelling match at me through the open window of the car. I stand there, just fucking nodding and apologising. He ends up pulling away from the curb violently and drives off.
What the hell am I meant to fucking do about it?
I go into the house, and tell my brother that dad will be mad at him tonight. He asks why. I quote dad. "You're a lazy fuck." Letting him know that it was dad that said it.
"Fucking hell Brittany! What the hell else can I do, I can't get fucking ready in ten minutes!"
Why are you swearing at me, why are you yelling at me, why the fuck is this my fault now?
I tell him that he could probably remedy it by getting ready, calling dad, explaining he couldn't have in that short an amount of time and asking if he wants him to come over now.
"No, why the fuck do I want to help someone who calls me a lazy fuck? I'm fucking sick of him."

I cannot fucking believe my brother sometimes.
I blew up.
"Look, it's not just you it's going to impact negatively on. He's going to be in a fucking bad mood with me and, oh, don't forget you have another sister too, because he can't just round on one person, especially when that one person he's rounding on just sticks his iPod in his ears and is oblivious to the fucking world around him! I cop the fucking brunt, you know it, that forced me into fucking depression for a fucking year and half. Look, I think I have a lot more reason to be sick of him than you do, yet I still go to his house, I still am perfectly fucking civil to him even though I want to kill him. He asks you to do one bit of work, you refuse, he has a go at me about it, and you tell me you're fucking sick of him? I'm fucking sick of having a brother who doesn't acknowledge that other people fucking exist and that they have fucking feelings too."
Tears are streaming down my fucking face.

You know what he replies? He replies "You're just fucking weak."

I fucking hate my father for making me so fucking weak.

No, I hate myself for making myself so fucking weak. It's my fault.

Why the fuck can't I deal with this?

Excessive swearing.
Oh fucking well, deal with it.

For once, I feel like a proper teenager.

I mean I have my worries, but they're fickle and silly as compared to usual. It's odd how much one thing can increase and decrease your mood so much.
I'm actually giddy, and I feel lightheaded and lightweight, as if I might float off. For the moment, my smile is staying put on my face and it doesn't really want to shift. I like that, a lot.
I keep getting the feeling that you get before you hope something good might happen, like, a clenching of something in your ribs. It's the feeling that if it gets let down, then so do you, you end up deflated. But I'm just coasting along, getting higher and higher gradually, because every time I clench, my hopes get rewarded, and I get filled even more with air, or whatever it is that is keeping me bouyant.
A couple of days ago... heck, early today, I was pretty freaking down, again, without knowing why. Now, honestly, I'm pretty much skimming the floor with my feet when I walk and staying in the air more than seems humanly possible. Filled with pure energy.

I'm staying up to watch the moon and Mars tonight.
Something else miraculous.

Thanks for reading and stuffs.

You guys who read are pretty cool.

=]
Brittany.

I want it to rain.

Don't read this.

Just need to get it out.











I want it to pour. I want to go outside in a black singlet, skinny jeans, bare feet, onto the oval ouside my house. I want to stand there and scream. I want to cry without tears. I want to sit in the rain for hours.

No more. Really. Whatever the fuck is stuffing around with my mood, I'd appreciate it stopping now. I'm meant to be fucking happy. I AM FUCKING HAPPY.
No, no, that's a lie. I was fucking happy, and for some reason, today has changed that. I'm doing something wrong, again. I don't even know what this time.
I can't... help myself, I can't help anyone else.
Not sleeping tonight. Not going to be able to and I don't want to, so I'm not going to try.

Sorry.

You didn't need to know.
You didn't need to read either.
Just go back to not worrying. =].

Brittany is a silly.

I opened this intending to write, and write I shall.
I am currently in the midst of the 40 hour famine. I'm going without food and furniture. Earlier today I went to see a movie, and I watched it from the floor in the back of the cinema with a really good friend of mine. It was the most interesting experience I've ever had with strangers. I mean, I've sat down in the back of a lift and watched people walk in, but this was even more amusing and thought-provoking. I've never received so many odd looks.

And it was actually a fantastic day, for me at least. We hung around in a music store, me dancing and him bewildered but entertained. We trawled through the shops and sculled cheap bottles of creaming soda for the movie attendant.

I fell slightly more than I already have.

Now though? I'm... completely and utterly depressed again, I don't even know why.
I feel so bloody empathic towards people. It's not a good thing.

I don't know. It could be not having food, or some silly imbalance like that. I mean, I feel lethargic as well. Maybe by 5 tomorrow this will be over, and I'll be back to normal.

I'm incredibly worried. I can't think straight, let alone write the four page essay I have due in two days.

I'm crying.

Argh. Stupid person I am.

I'm giving up on the day thing.

Because I really cannot be bothered and writing them will bore me.
Yes, I am terrible at sticking to resolutions.

I really don't know what to write anymore.

I don't want people to worry about me, and I don't want to constantly complain, so that restricts a lot of what I can write.

I suppose at the moment that isn't an excuse. I'm happier than I have been for at least the past six months, and I'm not even sure why. I suppose talking to people is always a good thing. And I'm finally, finally, finally over a person that I should have been over a year ago, despite the whole having-a-boyfriend in between. It's the first time since the beginning of May 2009 that I can honestly say that, and it's such a weight off my shoulders.
I've also recently acquired a job, something I've been meaning to do since I turned fourteen. I'm now fifteen, and it's only four months until I'm sixteen.

I finally feel like I'm connecting with people again. I don't tell people half of what I'm going through, true, or my emotions or ideas or anything, but I can talk to some people for three hours a night and not be bored. Well, one person, but I'm starting to start conversations which is something I stopped for about four months.

It's hard to right when nothing is wrong.

That was meant to be a pun but it looks like a spelling mistake.

Yeah. I'm cool, and you care about silly life updates like this.

Do have fun.

So a lot has changed.

I'm single, I'm a little angry, and I'm as confused as I ever could be. I might be falling for someone, this soon. And I'm someone who professes not to have a need for a relationship.
I'm also very worried about the person I hope I don't have feelings for.

This is going to be the most beautiful breakup.

Mutual understanding. Finality. Friendship.
Mutual mutual mutual.
Bloody hell. I’m actually looking forward to this.
It doesn’t look like messy emotions will get in the way.
This is why I loved him. This is why I’m still going to love him, but as a friend.
And he understands, he understands, he understands.

Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest

I'm going a lot slower lately. No-one reads and they're getting harder as they go along.
I'm just going to cheat with this one.
I'm fifteen. I shouldn't have had my heart broken. I barely know what love is, apart from the silly thing that they call puppy love.
I'm not going to discuss it futher, else I will sound like a whiny brat.

Thanks for reading.
Or not reading.

Forget me. For Christ's sake, it will make it so much easier for everyone.

You know, I can imagine it.

A couple of people loudly sniffing in assembly, wiping tears from their eyes even though they didn't care.
The real people affected silently stony, or not there at all.
"We want to let them know we are here for them, and we will support them. If you wish to contact them, notify the school chaplain and they will get you in touch."
"Any of you that are strongly affected by this, who need to talk, I want to remind you that the school chaplain and myself are always available for appointments. We understand this must be a stressful time for some of you, made all the worse with the pressure put upon you by the school."
People switching hands when one gets too tired to lean on. Whispering "How long until this ends?" Uncomfortably coughing.

My brother walking through school for the first time with stares collected on the back of his neck.

I wonder if it would change him. I wonder if it would change anyone.

Months down the track.
"This play is dedicated to a three year student of the academy. It touches an issue close to our hearts. She passed away on..."

It doesn't matter anymore.

Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad.

Drowned Wednesday it is then.

Good and bad.
Good because I recently rediscovered something. Bad because he's back and booming with the girl he's loved for a year and a half. Funnily enough, that's the amount of time that it's been since we've broken up.
I cannot seem to stop obsessing over him. I think I should quit drama, just to distance myself from him.

fuckinghell.

Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be.

I don't want to be any specific person. I'd like to take qualities from people though. I'm not happy in myself; haven't been for the past three years.
Last night I finally discussed the depression which I say I moved on from a year ago. It seems as though I've not moved on entirely. I can cope, and that is really all that matters.
Beneath everyone there is something that they want to hide.

The person I want to be? Someone who doesn't hide every single emotion they feel. I'm slowly learning to trust one person in my life. It's been seven months though, and I can't surrender all emotion, and I still can't stop myself from lying to him. White lies, but they're still lies, and I abhor myself for it.
I want to be able to start conversations and to give and receive compliments. I want to be able to admit that I'm not okay. I want to speak my mind. I want to be someone people look at and admire, not necessarily because of looks, but because of confidence, even if it's false.
I'm loud and laughing most of the time, and I try to fill up silences with my voice because I've grown to be uncomfortable with silence among others. I can't be silent with myself, either. There's got to be sobbing, or laughing, or fingers hitting the keyboard, or pens scratching paper, or music, or voices filling up the silence. I don't give myself a chance to be alone with my thoughts; I've even remedied the silence before falling asleep by listening to music.
I want to be almost everything I'm not. The only thing I can honestly say I like about myself is my individuality. And I don't even admire the things that make me an individual.

Depressing blog. They're allowed sometimes, aren't they?

Day 17 — Someone from your childhood. /Number 05 - A picture of your morning

Writing blogs to people who don't read them is at best, unsatisfying.


What was my childhood? Legally, I'm still a minor, still a child. I could write the blog to anyone in my life.
But I won't. Because I'm not in the mood for loopholes, and I'm not going to use one.
But there was never anyone who specifically stood out to me. I mean, sure, parents, but I've addressed them in depth already, and it'd end up being a blog on innocence.

I might just say goodbye childhood, because it was one filled with non-significance, and I spent the lunchtimes of it gathering gumnuts into piles.
I don't think I can address it to a gumnut.




This is my morning. Bed, laptop, Scrubs, and How To Train Your Dragon.
I have an excuse- I've been sick today. A bad sick too. Upheaving what looks like black water from your digestive system is slightly unusual, I'd say.

Thanks for reading. Especially that last part, 'cause I just tossed that in for an illogical interest spike, no matter how much you didn't need to know it.

Words are fucking inadequate.

I love them more than anything, but occasionally they dry up in my mouth. There is never a word for everything, and there’s no way you can express feelings through them. I mean, people use a thousand different types of gestures to express one emotion, even while speaking. How do people expect to get a mixture of emotions through in a mere sentence?


Every time I try comforting a friend, someone who is going through a hard time, or heck, just needs someone to listen, I can not say a fucking thing but “I’m sorry” or “Is there anything I can do to help?”. I am a taped recording, an answering message for a fix-it company. Or “I’m always here if you need to talk.” They know that. I hope they do.
But there’s only so many times you can say sorry before it loses meaning. There’s only so many times you can offer an ear but not a hand.
I can’t do anything but listen. I’m thinking towards them as hard as I can. Don’t be so harsh on yourself! There are so many people who/I really/all of the above care about you. I’d do anything to see you smile. Anything, anything at all, just name it. Please. Talk to me, explain everything. Just let me bear some of that. But it doesn’t count. There’s emotions of anger, regret, bitterness, all for them, all channelled through myself to end up… nowhere.
No-one really classifies me as the type of friend they’d go to first if they need help. I don’t blame them.
I’m not even sure anymore if I’m a good friend to anyone.
I’m just here, and I guess I’m happy enough with that.
But when they need help, I desperately want to show them exactly how I feel.
Then they’ll see that it’s not anything more than an attempt to be a friend.
I can’t say what I need to say. I want to be there for them, but I don’t want to be too pushy in being there for them.
I can’t hold a conversation anymore.
I can’t even get what I want to say across here.

Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country.

I'm back from Bali. Have been for the past... oh, thirty hours or so.
I will do a travel based blog.
I just don't feel up to it, and I fear I'll rant at the moment.
For now I'll stick to the day posts.

I've just been out of the country for the first time, and I've been out of state before, so I could be clever and address it to myself in the past.

But I wouldn't be able to say anything on Day 30.

I know a limited amount of people that don't live in my state, so the logical choice would be to direct this post towards the direction of someone who was like a sister to me- she lived with me for a month, so that is understandable.

She was naturally what looked likea bleached blonde, and my first impression of her was "Shit, I'm gonna have to live with a bimbo for a month?"
Which therefore means that yes, I do judge people by their first impressions, surprise surprise. But doesn't everyone?
I changed my judgement pretty quickly.

She was silly. So is everyone.
She is funny. Something I lack.
She was different. Somthing I admire.

I miss her a lot. Not as much as the top three people.
But enough.

Balinese internet might scare me.

I'm not sure if I'm going to be blogging much more.
This week, at least.
Today, at around 2PM, my flight for Bali leaves. It's my first trip overseas, though I'm not as excited for it as I could be.
I'm not sure if I'll have access to the internet up there.
So farewell for now.

Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from.

I seem to be the only one doing these at the moment. I'm not bothered. My writing is getting worse and worse, but I enjoy it... it's everyone else's choice to read.

There are many people I've drifted away from, and this is not going to be Drowned Wednesday, though there's something relating to it I wish to discuss quite badly.

But there at least one person I've drifted away from, other than Mr. Kingdom, that really hurts. I used to consider a girl I still know as an extremely close friend- she's among the three I miss the most, in my Grim Tuesday post.
She's intelligent, funny, thoughtful, appreciates good music- or what is good music to me- and despite what she believes, she's got a lot to offer.
It's a shame really. Everyone I know who has a terrible opinion of theirselves is really kind of amazing.
I think that sentence was very grammatically incorrect, but I honestly can not be bothered to nitpick at the moment.
I didn't even know her for the first year of high school, which is regrettable.
I'm not even sure how we came to be friends, other than that she sat with the group I started sitting with halfway through year nine. I don't know if it was exchange of email addresses, or MSN...
I have a terrible memory.
I just remember us being friends.
We definitely still speak, almost daily. I haven't had a proper conversation with her for a while though.
I have trouble with one and one conversations while there are other distractions going on. And I haven't had the oppurtunity for that with anyone for yonks.
I'm beginning to think that the only blockade to unlocking a lot of friendships is patience and effort.
I'mgoing to start trying.

Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you./ Number 04- A picture of where you went today

M'kay. So there's one place I went today. A bus.

Now. Someone I wish could forgive me.

I'm not a person who I think has done that much unforgivable. I don't currently hold any grudges either. That doesn't mean I forgive easily.
There's bound to be someone out there that's hated something I've done though. Something I've said.
Perhaps there are people hating my lack of self belief.
I don't think I lack self confidence, just self esteem.

I hope that no-one holds a grudge against me for that. For that specific lack, and my whining about it.

I'd like whoever may not be able to forgive me for something to forgive me for that thing, but if they choose to hold that barrier there, I mean, it's their choice, and I fully appreciate that, I myself being a huge grudge holder.
Maybe it's not nice to be hated, but if there is a legitimate reason behind it then it's not necessarily a bad thing.
There. That was addressed to someone.

Thanks for reading.

An end to conversation.

Him: Ok I am off into the arms of sleep.
Farewell! ^^
Me: I shall see you in the... dawn... of the future?
=].
Do sleep well.
Him: Yes
You SHALL!
You too deary c:
Thanks by the way
Me: ... typing with no words?
Him: -nod?-
Me: Sure. Why not.
Him: -nod-
Well I was typing something
Then I saw you stopped
So I cut what I'd written
Then you stayed stopped
Me: What were you typing?
I wasn't typing anything of importance.
Him: But what I was typing was dependant on what I thought you were typing xD
Me: What was I thought to have been typing?
=]
Him: "for what?" or something along those lines
Me: Well
It was.
I figured that it'd already been answered and I was being silly.
So
For what?
Him: -shrugs- just being an awesome friend I guess
Me: ...?
Him: Iunno I'm tired leave
Me alone
That was what I was gonna say
Like
Iunno
>.< that worked.
Me: You make me smile sometimes. Thanks for the thanks, and right back at you.
Him: Ok, well that was my original intention, so MISSION ACCOMISHED! :D
Ok night
Me: Goodnight.
Him: ACCOMPLISHED*

This is what he confuses me about. This is why I'm drawn back. This is why I don't want to let go.
That conversation we just had... flowed. And then it ended... with that. With what I just posted. "Thanks for being a great friend."
Goodbye? "...But I don't need it anymore?" Maybe, just a simple thanks?
I should have asked for more. I should have wondered what it was. I should have asked what it was for, what it was prompted by.
I wish to ask him tomorrow.
But I'm too cowardly to.

Not much of a blog.

Dear oh dear oh dear.

The post I just wrote was wrote a few days in advance. It was meant to be "Someone you wish could forgive you."
But nevermind. I will change the day number.
Once I do my follow up post after the thirty days are up, I'll make reference to it.

Day 13 — The person you miss the most.

So we're finally onto the second day of the week. Grim Tuesday.
There are many people I miss. Some people I miss because of physical distance, some because they've changed as a person, some because I've changed as a person, some because of emotional and intellectual differences and distance. Most are a mixture.
A lot of the people, particularly the three I miss the most, are physically close to me, are in contact with me often. Either every week, or at least once every three days.
These people, if I had to fit them into one of the classifications above, would be in the emotional distance category. They're also the people I'd like to call my best friends. But if we've drifted apart, then I can't call them that... because, well, we're apart. These three are among the four people I respect the most in this world.
For me not to be able to keep friendships running like these saddens me. It causes me so much guilt and shame and worry and unspent energy.
It's what makes my life hard.
And I've probably got the easiest life I know. I know so many other people who've made so many sacrifices, who've lost so many things. I don't think I should be feeling like this, I don't really deserve to.
I want to smile, and just smile. I don't want to smile because of a joke, I don't want to smile because of a funny moment, I don't want to smile at something cute, I don't want to smile because I'm being actively involved with any of my passions, I don't want to force a smile.
The best, least insane dream I've had recently is me walking down, alone, from the Society and Environment block down to English, with a random smile on my face. Not hurrying, not unhappy, not stony.
The last time I remember being happy for the sake of being happy was on the day I described in not much detail.
I want to sit and talk with someone.
At the moment, I'm not sure if there's anyone I can do that with, and that's what I miss.
You already know much about Mr. Kingdom, from Mister Monday and the other three posts. Grim Tuesday won't give you much more information.
He's the most human person I know. Completely imperfect. But fucking perfect. I miss him so much. His fucking accent, his passion for what he loves, his smileys on MSN, his font, his beliefs.
I sound like I'm in love with him.
It's anything but.
I just want to go back to the friendship. And it's my fault that I've lost it.
I see him every week, I speak to him a lot more than that.
The conversations turn to ash.
They used to be deadly bushfires.

Christ. I need this to be resolved. Soon. It's driving me to obsession. At least in my blogs.
Either quit it altogether or get back to it.

Thanks for reading.

To the other two people, who I know read, if sporadically. You're no less important. He's just the first hurdle. I don't even know if you know I'm talking about you. Both of you are fucking amazing.

I don’t understand how you can smile all day long but cry yourself to sleep at night. How pictures never change but the people in them do. How your best friend can become your worst enemy, or how strange it is when your worst enemy turns into your best friend. How forever turns into a few short months that you’d do almost anything to get back. How you can let go of something you once said you couldn’t live without. How even though you know something is best for you, it just hurts the same. How the people who once wanted to spend every second with you, think a few minutes of their time is too much to spare. How people make promises despite knowing how common it is for promises to be broken. How people can erase you from their lives just because it’s easier than working things out.

This is why Tumblr tempts me. Then I could reblog posts like this.
-sigh-

Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain.

I don't hate anyone. At this moment, I barely dislike anyone. And two people, both people I've already mentioned- my father and my ex boyfriend- have caused me the most pain. In fact, they're the only people of significance that have caused me emotional pain. Physical pain I've never had much of, but I've been in a few physical fights. All of them I walked away from with merely bruises, so I doubt they're even worth mentioning.
I was on the phone to my boyfriend for what felt like the first time in months today.... I spoke to him last night. It's been the hardest day I've had in a while.
In my Politics and Law class, everything collapsed. I couldn't talk to anyone. Usually I seem like this happy, vibrant, cheerful, over the top cartoon character. I don't think I ever could be that person really. By the end of the lesson, I'd built it all back up, and I could go on. I don't know what triggered it, but something must have. It's amazing, when I'm constantly putting on this face, everyone believes it, everyone is happy with me and themselves. As soon as I show a semblance of letting go of anything, people pounce. "Are you okay?" "What's wrong?" "Are you sure?"
I don't matter enough for them to be worried about me as well. They've all got better friends who probably have their own problems, and they've got their own on top of that.
I can deal. If I hide it, I can cope with my problems one by one and privately. I've got a few people to talk to, that's all I need, no one else should or has a need to care.
My being on the phone was not just a start to a pessimistic wallow in self-pity, something happened.
I actually make someones life worthwhile. A whole person.
It's terrible.
Don't ever rely on me, please.

I guess this has indirectly discussed the people who've caused me the most pain; it's shown how I process raw emotion and turn it into harshly happy light, because of experiences they have given me.

Doubts of posting this.

Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to.

I'm lucky enough not to personally know anyone who's died. I mean, all of my grandparents most probably are, but I don't know either them or if that's the case.

So maybe I'll discuss something dead to me that I'd like to reconnect with.

The art of conversation.











Or perhaps not.


Just to prove a point.

Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to.

First off, I'm going to shake my hand and give myself a medal. Maybe make a podium and stand on a conveniently labeled section of 50. This is my fiftieth post. It's a slight achievement. The most posts I've ever had on a blogger account, let alone another type.
Now, to the matters that matter.
I have a few of these people on my list, and this post could be Grim Tuesday. But seeing as it's someone, rather than the person most obvious, most prominent, then I'll talk about a lovely girl I know who I met through the same organisation as I met my boyfriend.
First, maybe I'll explain a little about this organisation. It runs camps and days out for underprivileged kids, or kids who have been influenced by unfortunate circumstances. I'm eligible because of my older sister, and because of what happened with my family and my father. I'm not going to discuss why others are there, because I feel that's a private matter.
There's one girl there who I met on one of my first camps. I started three years ago. We kind of fell into friendship. Sometimes I can't help but listen to people when they talk. This was especially the case a few years ago. I was a very quiet, very shy person. I've kind of lost that part of my personality, which is a shame. I miss it.
I listened when this girl spoke. She was the happiest person I'd actually seen, but also the saddest in a way. We ended up in different dorms. There were two bunk beds in the dorm. My sister and I were on the bottom bunks; I refused to leave my sisters side. I can be incredibly protective of her. Sometimes I'm nowhere near enough.
But we were on the bottom bunk, and on the top was a girl who'd boasted of having an abortion and showed us her scar; which I found out later was from an accident from falling off a swing when she was three- or was it being beaten up by her father? I took an instant dislike to her, whatever and wherever her scar was from. Two of them had to be a lie, and I'd heard her say a different thing to three different people within the first two days. Did I mention she was fourteen?
Also sharing the bunk was a girl who I found out later was my friends cousin.
The camps typically last three nights. The first two nights I led awake listening to the people above chatting and laughing, while wanting to get to sleep at 12AM, wanting the day to come, wanting them to shut up so Danica could sleep.
The third night a third girl came in. The last night a few rules are allowed to be broken. We can stay up later, we can write warm fuzzies, we can have a laugh with the leaders after lights out.
But this third girl came in, and I recognised her as the sadly happy girl from before. This time, I made an effort to join in the conversation, because I might feel accepted and not very awkward.I don't know how well it worked, seeing as eventually both the abortion girl and the cousin upped and left for another dorm. She clambered into her cousins bed and we spoke about anything and everything for hours. I found out why she was so happily sad, and that she was, and is, a lovely person. Someone I'd sacrifice a lot for.
We don't speak that much, but I'm hoping, this holidays, I will have the chance to catch up with her in between camps like we've been planning since that first one.
She's the friend whose birthday I missed out on. She doesn't deserve me missing out on anything else.

Thanks for reading.

Day 9 — Someone you wish you could meet./Number 03 - A picture of what you did today

I'll begin by rubbing my eyes yet my whole face at the same time, the way they do in movies before something big. I'll also let out a big sigh, and position my mouth slightly sideways, as if I'm thinking.
As if I'm thinking.
I'd love to say someone deep and inspiring.
Thom Yorke, for example. Depressive, pessimistic, and semi-suicidal he may be, but he's got some amazing ideas.
Anyone though... Say, if I'd won a day with them, would someone famous I'd like to meet sit down and have a serious conversation with a fifteen year old girl?
Or, would they sit down, give me an autograph, and sigh a lot, checking their watch constantly?
Out of those two options, I'd think it would be the latter.
I'd like to meet fictional characters, more than anything else at this moment.
Frodo in Lord Of The Rings. I'd give him a stern talking to and tell him he's an asshole, and the silly ring is not enough of an excuse.
Death, as personified in The Book Thief. I'd look at him quizzically for a while, then nod once and walk away. I'm not sure why.
Billy, in human form, in Billy Thunder And The Night Gate... the whole trilogy, actually. I'd throw my arms around him and smile, then hopefully we'd speak about the dangers of magick and the differences between human and animal kind. Which is actually the basis of one of my recent dreams, though I haven't read the book in a few months.
I suppose it sticks in your mind once you've read it more than 10 times.
Sam, in Benny and Joon. I'd tip my hat to him.

Who I'd really like to meet, plausibly, is someone I could speak to without feeling awkward.
I think that's a reasonable thing to ask.

Thanks for reading.
P.S.




I know this is where I went today. I don't care. It's also what I did. I had a limited amount of fun wandering around Hillary's Boat Harbour, eating icecream, looking at weird instruments, and listening to my fathers opinions on everything and everyone, and debating with him whether it was worth having opinions.

Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend.

You. Me. Us. We. Them. Those.
Distinctions. They annoy me. Perhaps I shouldn't be annoyed by them.
I believe that's why I appreciate the anonymity of the internet so much. You can't have a 'them' when you don't know who they are.
For someone who spends the majority of her time on the internet, I don't actually have that many internet friends.
Seeing as I can't generally keep up a decent conversation with a good friend of mine, I don't suppose it's a surprise.
I do have a few though. Omegle and forum sites have introduced me to quite a few people I get along with well.
But the friend that has influenced me the most, who I've kept up the longest is someone I met via a Facebook music group.
I am in love with aspects of music, but it is not my life, or what it is dedicated to.
However, some artists leave me more shocked, more amazed, than anything could in a world outside of music. I'll devote hours of my time to listen to one song, over and over again, because I find it that brilliant. Not do anything else. Just listen. If it holds memories, if it makes me rock back and forth crying because of either the raw emotion of the song, or my own meaning, or if I can just sit and listen to how the music plays with itself, and the lyrics integration. It doesn't matter, I'll listen.
It's not my life, but I can appreciate music.
Radiohead are a band I am in love with. I don't like them. I don't love them. I am in love with them.
There was a fan group on Facebook... still is... which was the biggest fan group on facebook of the band. I posted regularly on its' discussions, as did someone else. He ended up adding me, and all we spoke about at first was music. But I guess I started to share a lot with him, first just expanding on the answers that weren't just "Good" on the how are you's, then we just got to talking about our lives naturally. Things got awkward at one point, but we moved past it. Now we talk pretty regularly, though we had a few months gap when he deleted his facebook account and moved out.
He lives in Israel, I live in Australia. The only time I speak to him is when it's at least past 11 PM and I'm on MSN, and of that, there's a very small chance that he'd be on.
It's good not to talk to him so often.
Our conversations always wind around to music. It's great actually, because no-one quite gets it when I talk about the bands I love. He's into Britpop and he knows his alternative subgenres, which is something I can't say of most people.
Oh, this post satisfied me.
Thanks for reading.

Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush.

I'm so tempted to just write "Fuck you" and leave it at that.
But that would be unfair and untrue. I'll try to keep it to a minimum number of characters. It won't work, because this is something I have a lot of mixed feelings about. I'm apprehensive about even posting this, but I know I will in the end.
If he reads it, he reads it. If he doesn't, well, I suppose there isn't much loss. However, people who might read it... if you want to stay out of my personal life just keep away from this. It may get messy.
But this is a person I might return to. He has the potential to become about seven of these days, enough for a Garth Nix series. Should I begin by titling this post Mister Monday?
No, in reality it's eleven of these posts. But I'll try to keep it down to a minimum, to try not to seem obsessed, because I'm not.
Oh look; I've already made one... or two posts about him. If you want to be bothered reading babble.
One of which he's read, one of which I thought, mistakenly, would make a difference.

He's the one best friend I've had. Ever. That was for about three or four months in 2009. From maybe December, maybe January. He asked me out in March, broke up... Mayish. Never went back to best friends.
To be completely honest, I might tear open the whole packet and let it out.
I had a crush on him since ... "a few months" before August of 2008, according to my diary. A long time to like someone. Asked for his MSN, started a conversation with him just about everyday. I think he must have thought I was a bit doolally at first. But he started talking back to me, and we had some really intense conversations. I lost interest in him as anything more than a friend, and I got really involved in developing our friendship. I swear, for months he was all I spoke about at school. But I didn't want to look sad. So I pretended I still liked him. Which wasn't good. That's what I remember, at least.
As I lost interest in him as more than a friend, I'm pretty sure I started looking more like an option to him.
So we got incredibly close.
Or maybe it was just to me.
Anyway. He asked me out. We went out, like, twice, in two months. That should explain how disorganised we were. And how we drifted.
The first time we went out was fantastic. All that needed to be said about it was said about it in one of the posts mentioned above.
I kinda fell back in like with him. Didn't disappear for a long time. I think it was around November that I finally figured to move on. But I haven't let go, not yet.
I miss being friends with him like crazy. I'd give anything to have that back. Actually anything, apart from sacrifices anyone else would have to make, and my own life. I'd give up a freaking limb.
It sounds pitiful, to give that much for one person who doesn't care back. But that's how much I valued the friendship.

I hate nostalgia, I hate focusing on one person, I hate wanting. I wish I had gone with the fuck you, but I've written it now.
Nothing got mixed up feeling wise in it though, it was relatively emotion free.
Which is good.
I should learn to become more like this post.

Just a typical teenager.

So I'm a little bit silly.
I don't like being a whiney teenager. I try to be good and anti-typical, which is pretty pretentious, if you ask me. Except generally I don't try too hard.
I get along with my mum fantastically sometimes. Most of the time, to be honest. I can't imagine not having a good relationship with her a majority of the time.

But when it comes to incidents like this, I get angry. And this is shallow and wanting, so be prepared to roll your eyes and laugh.

I went ice skating a few weeks ago with friends- here's a blog post about it. Oh, and another, by a friend.

While we were there, we met these two guys a couple of years older than us. We had fun with them, my friend flirting. And apparently me too. My other friends comment- "u guys all wanted rapeee themmm"
I'm assuming she wasn't talking about the males there.
But yeah. I stalked them up on facebook- yes, stalked is the right terminology. And a few, if not all of us added them.
I've spoken to both of them since, quite a few times.
Tonight, one of them invited me rollerblading, something they were both going to be at. I would have declined straightaway, normally. It came up as a facebook invitation. But the thing is, right under it was an invitation I recieved a few days ago.
It was to a friends birthday.
Rollerblading.
At 7PM, until 10 PM.
Tonight.
Funnily enough, the guys invitation was at the exact same time. The exact same place.

I'd asked mum a few days earlier about it. She said she'd think about it. She thought. She came up with a lot of reasons. I've been sick most of this week, it's an apparently dodgy area, I'm not allowed to catch public transport at night... etcetera. All valid reasons, but I'm being a typical teenager and I'm complaining a lot because of it.
This friend of mine is one that I haven't seen in months. I'm really close to her, but we rarely get the chance to even talk. For me not to be able to go to her birthday is quite upsetting. Even on short notice. I reacted badly, I see that, but aren't hormones a slightly valid reason?
No, Brittany, you cannot use that excuse.

To finish up the story I started, the guy started a conversation with me, asking if I could come, I said no, told him about the birthday being at the same time, and complained about my mother. He said he'd bring me back if I could get there. "It's only a bit out of my way, it's on the way to my place really." And it is, but...
I'm not the silliest of teenagers, and I know that's dodgy. Especially seeing as I was the only one invited out of any of the friends I went ice-skating with.
I'm kind of worried and flattered simultaneously. I wouldn't accept it, but I'm very curious as to what's going on in their heads.

Well, that was fun to write, but pointless.

Probably just the latter to read, but thankyou.