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.