I'm spinning.

But slowly. And every time I turn around 180 degrees I have the flip side of my emotions before.
It goes at a pretty gradual rate occasionally. I think I'm being wound up. I see the positive side of life, and then I turn around to face the negative side again. This goes over and over.
At the point I'm at now it's moving rapidly. I'm pretty sure I've been wound up, and now I've been released.
I'm seeing the good side now.

Someone get some juice in the mechanics so I won't be flung around to the bad side.

I feel overwhelmed.
The stress knots in the top of my back are worse than they've ever been; I swear they're completely solid. The amount of sleep I've been getting has been so minimal it isn't funny. I'm getting less than I was in the holidays, and not purposefully either. The amount of problems I've heard recently has caused me to be ridiculously worried for my friends and for my friendships with them. I'm easily angered, and annoyed by certain people. I'm attacked by emotion and by a sense of needing to belong. I've got homework for an average of two or three hours an afternoon.
What makes it worse is that every night I'm hit by a longing to have his arms around me or his breath on the back of my neck or his voice in my ear or his lips on mine. Which sounds ridiculous, because I am so judgmental of couples who can't seem to stay away from each other, yet I wish I could do the same. Hypocrite? Yes. Maybe I'll stop harbouring that belief now I know what it feels like.
I spent so much time with him in the holidays that I'm struck by a need for that once again. And it can't happen. The most we get is 50 minutes a day and a few hours on a Saturday.

However, despite my frustrations across pretty much all areas of my life, I'm happy, especially for me. The day I started school I started going cycling in the morning. I don't doubt the power of exercise to boost mood any longer.
School still manages to suck the good mood right out of my day, but at least I've got the mood booster in the morning.

Pointless post, I just needed to write and I had nothing much to say.

Don't you love how I go to bed when I say I do?

I don't love the part that I'm getting up at 6 or so for a bike ride, and knowing me I'll probably be on here another hour. Ah well. Reap the benefits but deal with the consequences.

I love and hate looking through old photos and posts of mine and others. Makes me feel regretful and happy and thankful and hateful.
Looking through different stages of just the past year has given me such a mixture of emotions.
Mostly happiness at my current stage and how different it was to just over 5 months ago, or anywhere between then and the beginning of that year. But sadness at some choices I made that would have been better avoided.
I don't regret the choices however, only that I wasn't smart enough to see that they would impact me negatively at the time. Every experience in my life adds to the person I am, and though that person isn't the most likeable person in the world, I don't know, with the personality I have, I could ever be happy with myself. So I'm as happy as I could possibly be as a result of the decisions I've made and the effort I've made to drag myself out of some recent... bad... moods.
I'm wondering at the possibility of lies, but surprisingly I find myself not that bothered by them, though of course honesty is the best policy.
Lies are something I'm quite heavily involved with, so I can't claim to be bothered by liars.
Last year was a good, amazing, terrible year.
And it was full of contradictions.
Go figure.

And Blogger.

Youtube and MSN. Mind you, I just haven't made a decision on them. Might be them too.

The power of the mobile phone and the removal of attention seeking infantile posts and statuses sound like a good idea for a few days. Heck, I might give up the recreational use of the computer at all, I'm in the mood.

Goodnight.

11-ish PM, 26th Dec, 2009

You never know... People don't give a... No one ever knows. It's all... a rollercoaster of thought, with enough loops to keep you insane. You're pushing it, not treads, tracks, or electricity. You. And you don't know where you are finding it. There's a massive reserve of energy somewhere down there, but sometimes it runs out... and you're stuck.
Do you ever wonder how they find out if the seats are faulty? Is someone on there jolted off when it's stopped?

It is a rollercoaster, hey.All different people going "Fuck yeah, this is fun," or "Yeah, it's alright." Some people screaming for the fun of it, some screaming because they think they're gonna die. Some are just bored. "Jeez, I've been on more thrilling rides at the gym.

Funny, because when I'm on a rollercoaster I'd be of the first ones. Although the fuck would have to be taken off come New Year.
But on the rollercoaster we're powering, I'm more the person screaming for the fun of it. I overact myself. When I'm sad, you know. I'm sullen for days. When I'm happy, there's an actual smile fixed to my face that'll take quite a bit to take off. When I'm hyped up, I literally bounce off the walls, or try to.
Though a part of me is the last as well. "When will it end?"
I'm sick of the onslaught of weapons of mass destruction. If they insult me, I don't have my own stock of them. I'm going to throw the very expressions they throw back, though minus the hate. Hate is expensive. It costs wars, it saves people's lives, it destroys them, it wins wars, gains valuable opinions. It's the main cause of the world's problems. So when I get it thrown in my face I draw it in. Sure, some seeps out. I'm not a sponge, and hate is pretty hurtful, but I need my own supply of it. It's more than the equivalent of a nuclear bomb in modern warfare in the world of emotions. I need some to blast to protect myself in the battle of all battles.
I'm not a loved person, I know. By most people, I'm tolerated. There's quite a few who will turn their head in disgust as soon as look at me. But to the very few who welcome me, you're a part of my rollercoaster, and so far the ride hasn't stopped, and you haven't fallen to your deaths as the result of a faulty seat.

Yet.

Goodbye.
Signing off, at 11:32 PM,
Brittany.

Yeah, so I walk into my dads and within the first 10 seconds of seeing him, not even exaggerating, I'm yelled at, I burst into tears and swear at him for the first time in my life. He shouts at me for 'crying woman's tears' and sends me to my room where I sit crying my lungs out for an hour and a half, then just when I've stopped again, he comes in and fucks up my dam, and we talk.

Now he knows everything. Not that he gives a shit.

First reaction when I said it?
Well, here's the conversation.
"You had a bad morning? I have bad mornings all the time. I have chronic depression Brittany, and it's not really like you can go running to your room and crying about it every time something bad happens. I mean, you've got to learn to-"
Tears are streaking down my face even though I'm telling myself to stop being such a pussy and stop crying. I'm fucking hysterical and I can't stop the words coming out of my mouth. "Fuck you Dad. You wanna know something, you really fucking wanna know something? Two fucking years ago I was diagnosed with cllinical depression. I've tried to kill myself four times. You aren't the fucking only one, I know what it's l-"
He holds his arms out as a 'what' type of gesture.
Heavily sarcastic. "Well, thanks for telling me."

So we go on to talk about him, and compare my situation to his, and yeah, apparently because I'm a teenager and a woman I get overly emotional and my depression isn't as severe.

He blames it on my exercise habits, my mother, my lack of friends and my personality, that it's hereditary and because he has it there's a strong possibility I will. Not once does he say it just maybe could be anything to do with him.

So four years of bottling up shit, two years of that being pretty damn serious... and he blames it on something else when he does find out.

What is probably one of the most significant moments of my life, perhaps the most significant, registers as "this is bad, tell her to do something about it then forget about it and move on" in his brain. His advice? Get help. Go swimming. Join a group. Don't be depressed.
Little bit harder than it sounds, Dad.