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.

I have a dilemma.

I was going to cancel my MySpace account.
But I want to keep the blogs as memories.
I think I'm going to post them on here.
In an old, old, old, old section. Like. The good ones. I'll post the ones that hold actualy proper good memories for me on a section before my current posts.
On the days that I wrote them I'll post them..
I think yes. That is what I shall do.
Now to import them.

Day 6- A stranger

I didn't know where to find a stranger.
But then I looked out of my window.
I live opposite a park.

You're a little girl in a pink, long sleeved top, and denim cutoffs. You have just under shoulder length innocent blonde hair, the type only children under ten have.
You're dancing, dancing next to a woman in a blue top and a long brown skirt. She looks like she could be your mother, but I can't tell from this distance.
I envy you, with both your ability to do cartwheels and those bright, unspoiled eyes, those baby teeth in a little pink-mouthed smile. I haven't seen that smile leave your face once. Unspoiled naivete. Ignorance isn't bliss, but what children have, lucky children; that is.
You're a cute kid. I wasn't a cute kid. Not really. I may have been a happy little thing, but I was too sharp to be cute.


I was an awkward kid, and until about year nine I had no clue of what was expected.
You look well adjusted, much more so than I feel currently, but I don't want to imagine your future. Innocence is corrupted, almost always.
Even through my jealousy, and my over analysis, I smile when I look at you. You've just got this happy, exuberant feeling about you.
It seems a little forboding. But let's not worry about that.
Enjoy the moment.

Day 5 — Your dreams. /Number 02 - A picture of what you wore today

Dreams.
Aspirations?
What you imagine going to sleep at night?
Could be either, couldn't it.
Could be both simultaneously. Not for me though. I'd have the oddest aspirations if it was the case.
I guess I'll discuss both.
My dreams, to be frank, scare me. The dreams I remember I remember in detail, and there are just odd details. I haven't had a nightmare that I can remember since before I was thirteen, but my dreams and what they have the potential to mean are freaky. I think every time I have told a dream to someone, the looks on their faces have been incredulous or scared. Of me or for me, I don't know.
So I'd prefer to discuss my aspirations.
I don't know how many of you know this, but I kind of have the idea of my future set out. I don't know how many of you are interested either.
I'm expecting in ten or so years time, I'll be a teacher. I'm not necessarily hoping for that, I'm just expecting it.
I'm planning a few things in the future between now and then, but how they'll work out considering the state of my current friendships is debatable. I was always hoping to travel with friends in my gap year, but I'm not taking a gap year. I think we get about seven months off anyhow, so a few of my friends and I decided we'd buy a van and road trip around Australia, or at least part of it. I can't even remember the people involved, but it would be nice. It's not an original idea at all, and it might not be a plausible one, but it's nice to have something in mind.
I'm doing all TEE subjects for my six next year. My aim is, quite plainly, university. Specifically, the University of Western Australia. If I have the capability to get in.
Apparently you can fail English and be an English teacher though.
But UWA is the highest in the state, so I doubt that could happen there.
I want to do an education degree, majoring in English and minoring in drama. If that's the right terminology. Become an English and Drama teacher.
That's not my dream though. I'd be lying if that was all I wanted in life.
No. I think I mentioned this before, perhaps even numerous times. To act, in theatre. That's my dream. I don't want to be famous, just to be known, just maybe, once in life, to be wowed at, to leave an impression in someones mind. I'm not that memorable a person.
I want to get into Theatre at WAAPA, and every year for about 5 years, after I go to university, if I am able to do that, and once I've secured a job, I will audition. Only 18 out of about 300 get in each year, nine males and nine females.
So I'm not going to be heartbroken if I don't get in. There are others far more talented than myself, I realise that.
You know, it'd just be nice.

That's my ultimate goal in life. To act on stage and make a living from it.

I have minor and short term objectives as well.
I'd like to travel across Australia by train, alone, by the time I'm 30.
I'd like to write and publish a short story, play, or monologue.
I'd like to have a best friend.
I'd like to get a B average at the end of year twelve.
I'd like to get a job in the next few months.
I'd like someone to remember my name when they're sixty, someone who hadn't been friends with me at that point, for good reasons.

I don't know. My dreams might not mean anything. I'm one person in more than six billion.
Maybe a dent, a pinprick on the world would be nice.

...I don't think any of what I just wrote made sense. The whole post.

As for what I wore today?
Knowing what school I go to isn't a good thing on the internet. =].
So you can have a look at my shoes.

I do like contrast. And I love Converse.

Thanks for reading.

A message.

Day 4 —Your sibling (or closest relative).

I want to focus on one person per day blog, unless otherwise specified, as in the last post I made (plural of parent is otherwise specifying). So as much as I wish to direct this at my sister, I know I will address her or talk about her in other posts, whether they be relating to my Days and Numbers post or not.
So I'll talk about my brother.
My brother is a teenage boy. Thirteen in April. Like most teenage boys, especially those of an early teenage age, he
•is immature
•conforms
•grunts for communication
•is unable to express his feelings
•refuses to cut his hair
•is compassionate
Wait. Compassionate doesn't belong on that list.
Looks like my sister will factor in this post as well.
My brother has definitely benefited from having someone like my sister in the family.
If any of you saw my brother at school, you'd think he's just another year 8. And he is.
But if you see how he interacts with my sister and her friends, people with disabilities, it's freaking amazing. I can't as well as he can. He's lovely with them, it actually brings tears to my eyes.
Then again... I cry really easily.
As well as this, we can get along extremely well.
We have a small family, the only relatives I've ever met are my great aunty, who lives over in England, and my father, mother, sister and brother. Those are the only relatives I think I have living.
I think that's what makes our family so close, so aware of each other.
My brother'll roll his eyes with me at my mum, but he'll stand there unsure and sympathetic when I get a grilling from dad. We're basically best friends when we're close. We're worst enemies when we're not. It's usually one extreme or the other.
We've been drifting apart a little since he's come to my school, but that's not saying much. We're still close as sardines.
Wow, my first entirely happy post.

Thanks for reading.

Memories

I started writing about my sibling post for the day.
But I reckon I might just write about experiences.
I said already that I'm not going to focus on it every post.


I'm in the middle of watching a DVD recording of my musical that I did for drama last year, on the night of my birthday. My birthday was in December. The academy I'm at sure took their sweet time getting them to us.
This was the best night of my life, and the best birthday I could possibly have asked for. I get this thrill performing to any audience, no matter what character I'm playing, or if it's to an audience of one or of hundreds of people I don't know.
True, I've only had that experience twice, but it was fantastic.
I don't know. I have a passion for acting even more than a passion for reading, writing, and analysing. That's saying something.
I know I'm not too great at it, but it lets me really live.
Who knows. My life could be acting. My life in the future might be devoted to acting. I hope so.
But teaching will do.

Watching this actually makes me cry, especially a particular scene.
Nostalgia's a bitch. Lesson taught my friends. One friend in particular.
I'd give anything to re-live from about 6 PM, the 11th of December, 2009. I could fix so many things, I could get to live again, I wouldn't have got involved in things I have no right to be involved in.
Or last year, sometime in March, when it was simple enough.
I'd be happy. It's been a while since I can remember that, honestly. I'm always smiling though.
You can't tell.
I hope you can't.

I am not enough.

Day 3- Your parents

My parents. Jeez.
My parents are the people who've brought me up, who've made me the person I am today. And I don't know what I feel about the person I am today, and so I'm not completely sure what I feel for my parents.
My mother is perhaps the unintentionally funniest person I know. She's very quirky, and she can make people smile and feel welcomed usually no matter what.
She does have a temper, but that's obvious; she is my mother, after all. I am not aware of one teenager who has ever not argued with their mother. However, this isn't something I often discuss, so people I am close to might be among these rarities...
I love my mum immensely. She's always there for me, even though I know I can be a sharp stabbing pain sometimes. I rarely take advantage of that, and I think she's a little hurt by it. But when we get talking, she's a great listener, and she's incredibly compassionate and empathic.
She can however be quite stubborn, and she isn't necessarily the smartest of people. We clash sometimes, because we have very different personalities.
But she's my mum, there's a family bond between us, and I love her dearly, for her faults and her strengths. She's fantastic at being a mother, that's something I couldn't do. And I most definitely have more flaws than I could name of her, and bigger.
My father is someone I don't spend much time with. I see him every Friday and Sunday, for about six hours apiece. My family have been separated since I was eight, and the only contact they've had with each other is dropping off in the driveway of their respective houses.
Oh, and in the first few years, my dad came over and they spoke like civilised people, and then he took us out for walks.
That is, until in the last house I lived in he got... mad. He picked up our Ovaltine mugs and threw them at the wall. With Ovaltine and milk still in them. They smashed, splinters of ceramic pieces embedded in the wall and shards all over the floor.
That was not the first time I was deathly afraid of my father. Mind you, I was ten at the time.
It wasn't the last either.
A few of you will know I had a counsellor for about 6 months at one point, to help me get over depression. The only reasons I'm here right now is due to a guilty conscience and the efforts of a few friends.
I broke down in the middle of school one day in year nine. Burst into tears three times throughout the day, was taken to see the nurse. I'd almost committed suicide the night before. What stopped me was the thought that my brother and sister would be left alone and that either of them would be left to bear the brunt of my dads anger.
The second night I tried to commit suicide was on my dad's birthday, four days before mine, just before the Christmas holidays of 2008. A diary entry of that night. Describing the day-
"I bounced a basketball against my head to stop myself crying, to which Callan let a stray giggle escape before he realised I was serious. I must admit, at that point I felt a little glee. I don't know why. Maybe because I realised at my worst, I can make people laugh. Even at me. Even if they are sadists.
I just kept crying, all the while fiercely whispering to myself to shut up shut up shut up. I kept on trying to say what I was scared of but it just wouldn't come out."
I was scared of turning into my dad. See, even though my dad can be a horrible, sexist, racist, hypocritical, terrifying bigot, he is the only person who has similarity to me in personality. He is the person most like me in this world. I recognised that, at the age of twelve. It was the worst realisation I'd ever had, and I haven't really recovered from the revulsion I felt towards myself since. It's definitely died down, but it's nowhere near disappeared.
But that night was the night I can pinpoint a lot of my thoughts changing. That night was the night I know I grew up. I haven't been the same since.
I was in a tent in the backyard because we had friends over from England and I was giving up my room for a couple of them for a month.
"I like being alone in the tent like this. It means I don't have to stifle my sobs. There is quite a wind blowing, like a massive hand is trying to uproot it. I'm, for once, safe and shut in, even if I am crying my eyes out.
It's almost like I'm the only thing keeping this tent here... I'm afraid to leave in case it gets blown away. I feel like that in my head too. Like, if the stronger one leaves, the weaker one, the one that gets the headaches, will fade.
But I've got to leave the tent sometime.
And the stronger one can't always back the weaker one up."
I saw my mind in two different parts when I was that age. I had a stronger one, that was holding up a wall so that my emotions wouldn't get strewn everywhere, and a weaker one, who'd dealt with the emotion enough times that they'd recognised a need for a wall. I kept myself locked up to almost everyone apart from my diary.

This is why I'm not sure about my parents. I love them both. But dad put me through the worst experience I've ever had. And I haven't entirely forgiven him. I wanted to stick a knife in his back at some of my worst points. I don't think you could hate a person more fiercely than I used to. I cried myself to sleep at least once a week because of him.
He's better at not letting his anger out on us children, and I've gotten better at dealing with it. We have a laugh sometimes. He's the most like me and he can teach me how to deal with myself. But I can't separate who he is now from who he used to be.
I still cry myself to sleep a couple of times a month because of something he's said, and I still think it would be much easier if he buggered off to Thailand like he keeps on threatening. But there's no denying I love him, and that I'd miss him.
My parents are my parents. I love them both to death.
I hope this hasn't been too detached emotionwise. When I get this upset, I write objectively generally. I don't think that would have lent itself to this post.

Thanks for reading.

Day 2 — Your crush.

You're not just a crush, you're a relationship. And you're the most serious I've had so far.
So many memories, so many competitions...
What was it, seventeen times on our first proper date?
The first words I spoke to you. Utter nonsense to you, but you can't remember them now, so I don't suppose it matters. "Are you an Eddie Izzard quoter?"
You throwing... Brodie(?) over your shoulder. Showing off.
Feeling stupid as I was told in the dorms one night that you weren't a leader. I'm terrible with ages. I pretended to find out the next morning. I acted surprised.
First time we actually clicked. Running up and down the sand dunes a million and one times. Me faceplanting 99 percent of the trips down. Just sitting there in the middle of them, not bothering to move any further up, as we were both out of breath. Then we started talking.
I can't even remember what we spoke about. It was just cool, really chill.
Those few awkward phone conversations at first. Especially after the first time we saw each other after camp.
You running up a $300 bill on your home phone, calling my mobile, when I'd told you to call my home phone.
I can talk with you about almost anything, and I share the most with you out of everyone I know at the moment.
You are the only person in my life that makes me feel secure. I know you, and you know me. You don't know me as well as you'd like, but you do know me, I'll give you that much.
You're fantastically, amusingly, amazingly predictable. That's not a bad thing. It's kind of beautiful, because it is simplicity.
But you're definitely not simple. You have that liquid element, which is kind of scary. But some parts of you are solid. Your desire to just help people. You don't seem to care at all what happens to you. Which isn't really a good thing, because you're pretty special. But the way you can expend so much for others... It's something I really admire.
Maybe we don't quite agree on everything, and our interests do differ. But what we've got for the moment makes me happy, and it's enough.

Day 1- Your Best Friend / Number 01- A picture of yourself

I don't quite know what defines a friend, let alone a best friend.

You know what? I don't have a best friend. I have some extremely close friends, but the majority of the people I consider at the top of the list I have never seen cry. And that seems like a requirement of this best friendship people consider so important.

Does the idea of a best friend differ between people? Is a best friend defined by parametres of being there, being someone to talk to, or just being the friend that is better than the rest?
I haven't yet found someone that understands me. No-one I feel completely comfortable with when talking to. I'm always out to impress, or to understand them rather than put myself in the position of being understood.
And there are people who'll comfort me if I fail an exam, there are people who'll smile sympathetically at me as I cry. And them I appreciate.
But a best friend is something I'm lacking.
Though it's not something I'm going to try intentionally to get. That's not a best friend.

Oh, before I forget. Number 01- A picture of yourself.

There we are. Lovely, pretentious, and highly edited. My eye. The window to my soul. How incredibly deep must this person be? To have someone see into her soul every time they look at this blog post.
I'm so self deprecating. But I think it's a good thing.
It's a picture of me, sure enough.




















But that's cheating.

There we go. See, I can have a dark side... if you want me to. (Tim Minchin is damn awesome)
Or at least it looks that way from a distance.

Thanks for reading.

Days and Numbers

I've decided to take this blogging activity up.
I am not going to do a post of this every day, neither will each post I do be dedicated to the activity.
I'm kind of crossing blogging mediums here- this originated in Tumblr, which I am getting more and more tempted to transfer to, but I doubt I will. I've loved blogspot since year 5 PEAC, and I tend to stay loyal, even if it's just a website.
I think this will be interesting.


Day 1 — Your best friend.
/Number 01 - A picture of yourself
Day 2 — Your crush.
Day 3 — Your parents.
Day 4 —Your sibling (or closest relative).
Day 5 — Your dreams.
/Number 02 - A picture of what you wore today
Day 6 — A stranger.
Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush.
Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend.
Day 9 — Someone you wish you could meet.
/Number 03 - A picture of what you did today
Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to.
Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to.
Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain.
Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you.
/Number 04 - A picture of where you went today
Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from.
Day 15 — The person you miss the most.
Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country.
Day 17 — Someone from your childhood.
/Number 05 - A picture of your morning
Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be.
Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad.
Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest.
Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression.
/Number 06 - A picture that inspires you
Day 22 — Someone you want to give a second chance to.
Day 23 — The last person you kissed.
Day 24 — The person that gave you your favorite memory.
Day 25 — The person you know that is going through the worst of times..
/Number 07 - A picture that makes you cry
Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to.
Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day.
Day 28 — Someone that changed your life.
Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to.
/ Number 08 - A picture of yourself
Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror.
/Number 09 A picture of your reflection in a mirror.

Experiences

So my friend wrote a blog about this yesterday, on the day of the event, but I decided to wait until the aftereffects really sunk in to decide my definite feelings on it. I went ice-skating yesterday with four friends.
It was fantastic. One of the best days out I've had in a long time. About an hour after I got home, I could not bend my knees more than 90 degrees, without screaming in pain. The rest of the night I stayed stiff as a board, on my laptop replying to the 161 comments I got on facebook as a result of the trip. These are only a few of my bruises, I've got so many more.
Funnily enough, despite the pain-induced convulsing this morning, trying to get out of bed, and the fact that I had to kneel through a four minute monologue I did for an exam today on knees that were killing me, I definitely have come to the conclusion that the pain is and was well worth it. It was fantastic. On the first of June, I officially, completely, and finally let go of something that's been tying me down for a year or two. The second of June was the realisation that I was free.
And that's what was so enjoyable about the experience. Freedom. The only thing any of us were bound by were the session times of the ice rink, and the bus schedule. No worries, no obligations, no work to do there, no deadlines to meet. We were just having fun. The fact that my mind was so much freer was amazing, and really added to the experience.
We could talk to whoever we wanted, could say pretty much anything, and break a few boundaries.
I accused one of my friends of excessive flirting, but I'm sure I did a bit too. And the thing is... it's just flirting. It doesn't really matter.
It's put me in a great mood, and I think that will last for the rest of the week. My self esteem has been lifted, the corners of my mouth were incessantly upturned, and I felt constantly involved.
The only thing bruised is my body. Not even my ego, seeing as falling over was a good thing.
I can't move without groaning at the moment.
But I'm starting to see the bruises as being a reminder to the time we had.

"I have so many contradicting words and thoughts and emotions about so many things, I don't even know how to properly have a secret. No one really knows me; I don't need secrets."

The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really, want to love someone. But that person still wins. They win, and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else."
- Chuck Klosterman

Too fucking true.