I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell

So I've neglected you for a little while. Just thought, you know, I should probably keep my rambling to myself, and stop using up space on the internet that could be filled with porn, or cats. Right now, I am actually so messed up I don't even know what I'm writing and can't even think of a suitable lengthy descriptive metaphor which is probably the only thing in this world that I can generally do quite well.

Sitting at my keyboard freaking out, literally "hoping for the best, but expecting the worst", because I'm a pessimistic bitch like that. Really, until now, I'm pretty sure "obsessive compulsive jittery worrying" wasn't in the list of mental disorders that I most likely have. Which is what they all say, until one day, they're staring at a computer screen, hugging their knees and draining a bottle of vodka, whilst praying to all deities that may or may not exist... Hey, prayers answered. At least one of them must exist. Cue awkward question. "What's up? :/"
Amazing how reluctant I am to admit that I worry.

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So just kinda pondering about how quickly I can snap from mid-worry-spaz, to being okay, to being completely and utterly just LOST.
Lost in myself, and lost to the world.

May-chama~

When the first baby laughed for the first time, that laugh broke into a million pieces, and that was the beginning of fairies.

Every child that is born, is born a concentrated lump of goodness and innocence, and no child can be guilty of any crime at the time of their birth. Those statements are just about universally agreed on, are they not? And logically, a child is still a child, regardless of who their parents might be, and regardless of their relationship to each other. So then, why do you order me to treat that child differently to how I would treat any other "legitimate child"? What makes this child any less worthy of love and praise? I neither condone, nor condemn the actions of her parents, as it is most markedly not my place to judge but whether or not their actions were wrong, there is no cause for prejudice against the child. Also notice, how I recognise that it is not my place to judge, If it is not my place, as a friend to both parties, then it is hardly yours, as someone who knows neither and nothing about them.

I am far past the point of caring what you say about me, but I will not, can not, sit and listen to you berate my friends, and least of all their daughter. What the fuck did they ever do to you to deserve that? You don't know anything about either of them, or their respective situations, so bitch please, stop talking shit.

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream

And so the predictable happens again. Hiding away from all of my own problems by immersing myself in well crafted stories of grandeur. As a child, it was the youthful tales of Enid Blyton and Roald Dahl that held my fancy. Tales of faeries and elves, of toys and the lives that they lead, of witches, and magical mishaps of every type imaginable. I've been able to read for as long as I can remember, and able to write almost as long. I've always been grateful for that, because from an early age, when things got tough, I could find a quiet hideyhole and curl up with a good book. As I got older, I turned to the Harry Potter series, admittedly only getting through the first one with some coercion, but after that I was captivated by JK Rowling's world of magic and wonder, and to this day, I'm still an avid Potterhead. Right now however, I'm sitting in a library, having just finished reading some manga. I reread volume 8 of Ouran High School Host Club, a great series. I also started reading La Corda d'Oro. As a few of my friends (Hi Melon and Mayo) would probably point out, these are both shoujo manga, or girls manga. So like, all the lovey dovey shit. But hey, each to their own, right? It's slightly calming to read about high schoolers whose biggest problems are love and infatuation.



Face down in a puddle of blood.

So, I'm going to be blogging a little more now. And writing a little more. For reasons I don't care to elaborate on, it appears that writing and blogging have become the only forms of communication I have with the greater world.

Of course, if you're still reading this, you probably know how to understand my twisted metaphors and see under the facade of not-so-fancy words. However, for those one or two people who don't quite understand, you probably do, you just don't know it yet. Throw away all preconceived notions of who you are, who I am, and just focus and let the words take you down the dark, twisted road into the abyss.

Mmmm, that was a refreshing change of pace. Now, back to your regularly scheduled update of doom and gloom.

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Promises made,
Promises broken.
Tears fall slowly
To words unspoken.

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The First of the Whiny Teenagers

You're never truly alone.

Every single time, that sentence has been the one that got me through it all.But now, I can’t believe it like I used to. If this isn’t true isolation, then I don’t know what is. How do you reach out, when they’re keeping you shut away from the world?

You’ll always have your friends.

I’ve doubted that one before, so there’s not really much to say. I know full well that I’ve brought this entirely on myself, but I really don’t want to hear “I told you so”, however true or otherwise it may be.

I never saw that wallpost, so I’ll never know what it said, but after all this, I’m not even sure if I want to. Surprisingly, I don’t even blame him for this. The fault is entirely mine. It’s actually amazing that it took me this long to realise that. It’s true what they say though: you never truly appreciate what you have, until you’ve lost it.

I’ve become so compliant over the past few days. I’m even able to smile blandly now, as I quietly acquiesce to their every request. It’s funny, really, how the devil child turned into the perfect daughter. Elegant, demure. Seen and not heard. A mindless shell, only purpose to hear and obey.

Marie Antoinette’s dying words were: “You may kill me, but you will never kill my spirit!”

But only metres away from the guillotine that would end her life, Marie Antoinette had it pretty fucking easy.

I still have enough intellect to comprehend my situation, even to think of a way out. Not much thinking is required though, they're pushing their "way out" at me, from every single direction.

There are only two ways out of this hell: marriage, or death. As you can probably guess, I'd much prefer death to marriage. Moving from one mindless existence to another is not really my idea of an escape. A change from the perfect daughter to the perfect wife, from my perspective they're exactly the same, so why change at all?

Dorothy

Run. Fast. Left. Right. Left. Right. Gunshots ringing past my ears. Thundering footsteps. Screams of agony. Cries of children, watching their parents being tortured and killed, right in front of their eyes.

                I ran away from all of that. In the few illegal newspapers that published articles on the massacre, the same phrase was listed. "No Survivors". According to them, I have ceased to exist. Some days, I have to remind myself of that small fact. Alone, here in this small room. With nothing but a bed. Not even a door. Just a large barred window at the far side of the room. It still has the same carvings on the windowsill as it had on that day. Three years ago.

                He saved me from them. And brought me here. And here I have stayed. He used to visit me. With food, toys and games. Books. And paper, to write about my dreams. About what I have seen. I have not seen him for many weeks. He is not dead. But he has forgotten me.

                Aaron. I think that was his name. I remember his face. I see it every night in my dreams. Nightmares. Visions. Realities. I don't even know the difference between them anymore. We are walking home. On a yellow brick road. Except it never leads us home.

                Home. I had one, once. And a family. A mother, a father, a sister, brothers, even a dog. My sister. Jana. I remember her. She taught me how to make necklaces and bracelets with beads and wire. She always smelt nice, like she'd been working in the kitchen. She died first. I found her, lying in a pool of her own blood. Wearing her pretty red shoes. And holding the little red bow that I gave her. I still have those, along with a tiny vial with some hairs from our dog.

                Our dog. Toto. He was had thick brown fur, and he was always warm. Gia used to help me take him out for walks in the park. There was a river there, surrounded by trees. That's where he died. Someone had bent two saplings to the ground and tied them to him. Then they let go. It split him clean in half. My eldest brother found him, one day when he was exploring the park. He always held a shadow of fear in his eyes after that.

                My brother. Jack. He taught me everything. He taught me how to read and write. He taught me how to carve boats and animals from little pieces of wood. He gave me something that they cannot take away. He gave me my brain. He helped me make toys, and together, we made a little "Noah's Ark". Even though my other brother said that we were weird.

                My other brother. Sam. He was always so quiet. He reminded me to live, to love, to believe in myself. He told me that my gift was not to be feared, hated or despised. He said that it was given to me for a reason. To use it for good. He gave me my ability to love. He gave me my heart.

                My brothers. They were always together. That's how they lived. Together. I guess that's how they died.

                I still kick myself, for leaving that day. Because you see, it was all my fault. The massacre. They were not just killing. They were searching. And all those people, my family, my friends. They all stood in the way. To protect me from them. So they couldn't kill me. For what I was. For what I am. Because I see what has passed, what is presently passing and what will come to pass. But not everything. Only sickness. Grief. Loss. Despair.

                Death.

Pornographic Kitten

He was a little angel
Charming as can be
Got everything he wanted
Somehow even me
In the day he was a perfect Disney prince
Handsome and chivalrous, looking out for his princess.
But under cover of darkness, when only I could see
He became quite different, and scary I confess.
These memories, they haunt me
Plague my sleep with nightmares.
Even when I think they've gone,
They catch me unawares.
Nobody can help me
Although they seem to try
However much I tell them
They still believe his lies.
Of his two faces, for everyone
There's the angel, charming as can be.
But the demon that he truly is
Is specifically reserved for me.
-----
AN: Kitty, if you're reading this... I just want you to know that
words are not as trivial as you perceive them to be. They have a
million times more potential for hurt and destruction than you could
ever hope to achieve with your muscles.

I left the chilling noise of screams and kids, and ran for shelter.

It's so easy to think in the rain. Thousands of drops falling down from the heavens. It feels so peaceful, lying here on the cold, wet concrete, away from the world, yet still very much a part of it; nothing to be heard but the rain falling to earth.

-----

It was raining that day too, I remember, because it was the day after Tigress had cut my hair, so that at a glance, I looked like a boy. Lion was taking me to the corner shop, to buy me some candy, and cheer me up a little. As we were leaving the house, I went to get my umbrella. I am so glad I did that, otherwise he wouldn't have turned around again to tell me that real guys don't need umbrellas. Then he looked around the house before he left it with me, for what would be the last time.

It was raining that day. I saw the rain pound his body, saw his blood stain the pavement as I ran, the tears that nobody could see stinging my eyes as I blindly tried to find my way home. How I actually made it back I cannot say, for I don't remember consciously choosing a direction, I just remember needing to run as far away as possible from what had just happened and the grim realisations that would follow. Returning home to Tigress and Leopard, I could see in their faces that they already knew what had happened, and that we all knew what it meant. It had begun, as we knew it would. We were to be hunted, persecuted for what we were, for what we had no desire to be, for the parasites that lived within our bodies.

-----

It is in remembering where you come from that will enable you to figure out where you are going. The first memorable tragedy in my life, other than my birth, happened in the rain. Leopard's body was found in the ocean at the bottom of a cliff, and Tigress's body was found in a bathtub of water. It's a small wonder that now, years later. I have a degree of hydrophobia. But now, lying here, one of my greatest fears pouring down on the earth for miles around me, I feel the most at peace. The rain has a way of washing away prejudices, preconceptions, misconceptions, doubts and judgements, enabling me to see things clearly. Several things I've found out in the past week have shaken my grip on the world, on reality. I find myself thinking, hoping, dreaming that my life could be like The Truman Show, everyone in it just actors, waiting to yell "Surprise!" at the right moment. No assurance like that ever comes. I've given up trying to decide what is real and what is not, for the concept of reality is not one that I have easily grasped or accepted, and the consequences of living as I do means that this bare grasp of reality is forever being disturbed by events occuring in my everyday life.

Being human, to some degree I also fear isolation, however, in keeping with my paradoxical existence, I also seek it. I believe this reaction to others is more subconscious than conscious. I am able, to a very large degree, to outwardly appear incredibly friendly and social, indeed, that is the one comment that has been everpresent in my school reports since I began formal schooling. However, although I supposedly attract many acquaintances, nobody really seems to notice how hard it is for me to make and maintain real friendships, and then to get to the point where I actually trust said friends. People often say to me that trust is essential in any friendship, and I agree, to some extent. I trust most of my friends with secrets and the like, but that's not the trust I was referring to. That was referring to trusting them not to abandon me. Only a handful of people have earned this trust, and I don't blame the rest of the world for not trying to. I'm a ridiculously hard person to get along with, and the friends I have now, trust or no, have stuck with me through good and bad, and there's been a lot of bad. Yet, for some reason, some of them still don't have that level of trust, and I can't for the life of me figure out why. It's like there is another being within my mind, controlling where and with whom I can feel safe, controlling one of the essential parts of my life: the way I interact with other people.

If everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am

Dear Readers,
I'm not entirely sure why I chose to do this in letter form. Perhaps it is because it is easier to pour my thoughts and feelings seemingly to a person, or people, rather than the cold, dark place that is the world wide web. I might as well get the formalities over with at the start. Although it has been a long time since I last posted, I regret to inform you that I will be unable to provide you with your random fix of sarcasm, cynicism and haughty derision. There will still be posts on the site, but I urge you not to read them, for the quality of my writing at the present time is absolutely appalling, and I would not want to waste my dear, lovely readers' time, or insult their intelligence by encouraging them to continue reading this complete and utter bullshit.

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Who thought that something could shake the atmosphere, the very landscape of the abyss? The past week's events have brought a realisation that has changed my personality entirely, and has split the abyss by a vast chasm, and it is here , deep in this chasm, uncharted ground, where my psyche currently resides.

Children (and I use the term very loosely, as many of you are children in spirit, rather than reality), in life there sometimes comes moments of great, overwhelming self-realisation. Sometimes it will be easy to take, other times, not so much. Over the past few days, I've discovered that I have become that which I've always hated. Hell, maybe there's not even a "become" in that sentence, maybe I haven't changed, I've just lost a bit of my previous denial.

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They set out on their crusade, some alone, some in groups, and still others oblivious of their actions, all determined to fight and succeed in their cause. For the cause, they put aside their differences and fought side by side as brothers, to destroy the abyss, and all that it stood for, to bring light, relief and hope to all the creatures living within. Valiantly they fought on, passing through wall after wall of opposition as if it were merely air, until they finally dispelled the dark cloud that hung over the abyss, letting its inhabitants taste light for the first time in a millenia. Hope began to spread throughout the land, but as quickly as the light had come, it disappeared with one sentence, and the abyss was once again plunged into darkness, deeper than it had ever seen before. Though they did not completely succeed in their mission, these brave men and women were remembered as heroes, recorded as gods in legends of old, forever imprinted in the minds and hearts of any creatures unfortunate enough to inhabit the abyss.

-----

Find a reason to live, he says. It's funny how a simple statement can completely change the course of one's thoughts and actions. He says again, find a reason to live. For a moment, that seems like endless days, I am submerged in deep thought. What exactly is the reason? Is it just simply because I am alive, and I'm not bothered enough to change that status? Is there actually a reason? And then it hit me. With the speed and force of a freight train. In everything I do, unbeknownst to me until now, there are signs of it. When I walk, when I cry, when I cut; it's there, just a shadow of the real thing, the real person. None of my actions are purely my own, rather hers in a different body. If she wishes to hurt me, then she does, but the physical pain from that is trivial against those times, which are getting steadily more frequent, when she is unaware how much emotional pain she is inflicting upon me, without meaning to. It does sometimes sicken me with self-hatred, how much I let another human being affect my life. She is the reason I walk this world alive, yet the very force that is pulling me over the edge.

So, I reply to him, after a million years, yes, I have a reason to live, but that is also the reason I want to die. To observe what one dreams of everyday, but never be able to grasp it, is far beyond the threshold of pain that I can take.

It is that realisation which has grafted this chasm, and dragged my fragile mind to its depths. Time passes so slowly down here, although I doubt I have much of it left.

Update on the Life Of Me!

Yes, I have totally run out of philosophical ideas for blog posts, so I haven't been blogging in awhile, but I did get a very panicked email from a very nice reader reading "OMG WAS THAT THE LAST BLOG POST?! WHY WHY WHY? WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO US? ARE YOU ALIVE? ARE YOU MIGRATING TO CHINA?".

So in answer, I'm still alive, and I am most definately not migrating to China. And here's a blog post about the general life of me, since I last posted. The last blog post was meant to be a very, incredibly blatant hint to two people, who have both decided to be extremely thick-headed, and not get the hint. Hmph.

Anyhows, my life since then can be lumped into 3 categories:
the GOOD.
the BAD.
and the FUGLY.

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THE GOOD

Camp.
For three days and two nights, our entire grade, all one hundred and eighty of us, were shipped off to the Sydney Academy of Sports centre in Narrabeen. The bus ride, which was far shorter than any of us expected, was a time when half of us spent our last sane moments with our full concentration on a mass game of MarioKart, yelling profanities around the bus, while others disco danced to said MarioKart music, complete with pretty flashing lights from our infamous, innuendonic, totally sexy lightsaber.

Once we got to the campsite, we were quickly directed to our rooms for about an hour of chill time before lunch. Somehow, in that hour, between the twelve of us, we managed to make the room our own, and forever make it a magical place full of laughter and happiness and magical unicorns.

Then, it was time for lunch. To be honest, I was pretty worried about the food quality and edibility of it, seeing as it's a school camp, and they're not reknowned for their excellent food. But I was pleasantly surprised with deleeshuz food for the entire three days. Even my friend, who shall remain nameless, who was told that she was allergic to egg, wheat, soy and gluten (according to an allergy test, she is, but she eats these things all the time), and could also not eat meat, had really good food, which was even more surprising, considering that she pretty much could not eat anything.

And then there were the activities. the high ropes obstacle course, terrible if you're like me with absolutely no sense of balance whatsoever, but totally fun, because it made you feel like an incredibly uncoordinated Tarzan; canoeing (which I will never be sure if i'm spelling it right), in which, by the end of the three hours, everybody was sitting in a puddle of water with bits of nature inside their boat; abseiling, which was good, because it made the icy cold temperatures on the ground feel like a nice summer's day in comparison to the temperature 10m in the air; raft building, which was one of the funner activities of camp, involving cheating, cheering and sabotage; leap of faith, or "suicide", jumping off a really tall pole, attempting to catch a bar that is hanging over a metre away from the pole (I caught the bar!); and a range of team building activities.

By far, the best part of camp were the unscheduled "night activities", that took place in our cabin on the second night. There were probably some hijinks that took place on the first night too, but I was too tired and ended up falling asleep just past midnight. Anyhows, the second night... For the first part, it started off normally enough, playing cards, listening to music, eating Froot Loops and other assorted unhealthy foods. Yes, Froot Loops are special enough to warrant a specific mention, because they have since become the most outstanding memory of our time at camp. Firstly, one of our friends from another cabin came to visit, and she managed to fit 52 Froot Loops into her mouth at the one time. And, quite simply... She went HIGH. And then proceeded to run around our room and bathroom, and wrestle another of our friends to the ground. This was at about 9pm.

Our second escapade with the Froot Loops occurs several hours later, at around 1am Friday morning. One of us remembered that she had brought a can of V and a can of RedBull with her, and proceeded to take them out. We shared them around, and then, presumably, the combined sugar of the past few hours and the caffeine that we had just ingested hit us all. At the same time. None of us really remembered what happened til we all woke up on the floor the next morning. We managed to figure out the following:

-  there was a lot of laughing, tickling, literal ROFLing, and crazy "dancing"
-  at one point, one of us fell asleep, and the other five of us proceeded to act like she was passed out drunk
-  I should never wear spotted pjs
-  one of us is very ticklish
-  and at one point, we all decided to grab our sleeping bags from our bunks, and go to sleep. On the floor.

This was probably our last camp together as a group, and I can honestly say that it was the best, although we were missing one very special person. Although we may have complained endlessly about the showers, the food, and the temperature, given the chance, I think we would all do it again.

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"We get high, we let go

We've got more than we know
My friends are a different breed
My friends are everything
Make this last, take it slow
We've got it all figured out for now
So let us live our lives without a doubt"
-  Vegas, All Time Low

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This was meant to include sections on the Bad, and the Ugly, but I have already gone overtime and over-length. I'll continue with this over the weekend, I promise!

Adios Amigos!~

This Is My Last Dance

People used to say to me things like "I can pinpoint the exact moment when I fell in love with him", and things like that. Me? I'm pretty sure I can pinpoint the exact moment that I crossed the threshold from being "mentally unstable" to "absolutely fucking insane". In that moment I went from crying hysterically, which in itself isan incredibly rare occurance, relatively on par with the appearance of Halley's comet; to laughing hysterically, at the stupidity of it all. Life is so meaningless. Everybody says that I should be looking for my "higher purpose in life". What fucking higher purpose?

Oh, wait. Perchance, my higher purpose is to make everybody WAKE UP AND SMELL THE CORPSE.

The delicious, cold, creepy one, that slightly resembles me. I've always wondered what I'd look like at my funeral. But then, I'm muslim, so nobody would see my beautiful dead body. That kinda sucks. Still, it is so much easier to make people listen to you once you're dead. People are more likely to obey a dying wish than they are to obey the law. Maybe my "higher purpose" is to remind people that life is fleeting, not long enough for you to spend half your time fightig with those you call your friends. However hard it may be, forgive and forget. Life only comes once. Don't waste it dwelling on bad things that have happened. Remember only the good times.

These last few lines I speak to two people especially. Looking at photos of the two of you over the years, seeing you both smiling and happy, like nothing could bring you down... It makes me feel what I believe normal humans would call sadness, knowing that you don't even speak anymore.

--

Cause love's such an old fashioned word
And love dares you to care
For the people on the edge of the knife

And love dares you to change our ways
Of caring about ourselves

This is our last dance.

Cynthia

Yes, I'll tell you all about the rest of my time in Asia later.

This post is dedicated to someone really quite special, whose birthday was a couple of days ago. I've known her for about six years. And when I think about it, we've been through a lot of fairly traumatising events. Not least of which being year 6 sex ed (wherein, I didn't really learn much, however, I believe the experience scarred her for life), our constant changing tastes in guys (okay, my constantly changing tastes, her rolling her eyes at me and maintaining her own taste, and attempting to convince me that hers is better... fine, I'll admit it, just this once... she's right =.="), and more recently, high school, and my incredible retardedness at maths, and terrible habit of getting into trouble.

She's been my voice of reason for almost as long as I've needed a voice of reason, keeping me out of trouble as much as is humanly possible, which isn't much, but I (and the rest of the world) thank you for your considerable contribution to keeping society peaceful. It's a miracle that you've managed to stay sane after all these years.

Cynthia, you're practically family now, and I love you more than I can put into words <3
Hope you enjoyed your birthday, and I'm sorry this is so delayed.

Asia Holiday - 11/04/11, 0951 hours AEST

I’m writing this from the air, Air Asia X flight from Coolangatta (Gold Coast) to Kuala Lumpur. I’ll admit, when the plane started speeding down the driveway, I was pretty scared. As some of you may know, I’ve had my doubts about this trip, and the rough takeoff was a little bit jarring. But almost immediately , we flew over the coast, and got an absolutely amazing view of the beach, and the beautiful sparkling blue ocean. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get a picture for you guys… They’re kinda really strict on the “no electronics during takeoff and landing” thing. Possibly because that could cause the plane to crash and burn, but eh.


One of the upsides of going to Asia on an Asian plane is that the flight attendants are all Asian. And I’m trying very hard not to come off racist here, but you all know I don’t mean it like that, right? However, Asians, especially flight attendants, always appear a lot nicer than their white counterparts. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a whole bunch of really nice Australian flight attendants too, but for the most part, they just act like train drivers: just doing their job. Which isn’t really that problematic, but one of the flight attendants asked what I was doing, and when I said I was blogging, she said she’d check it out on the ground. Also, they have Asian accents. So. Freaking. Adorabubble. “Diid yuu pree ordahh food meestaah?” Okay, not quite that exaggerated, but still… :3

Speaking of food… I got me a nasi lemak (picture below). Nasi lemak is this malaysian meal, with rice, chicken curry, some other sweet and spicy curry stuffs, and salted peanuts and dried anchovies. One of the best, if not the best in-flight meal I’ve ever had. SO YUMMEH~!



Nasi Lemak. In a box.

 I’m already kinda homesick, missing all of you so much. I know some of you are going to be like “Dude,
it’s 9 days. Harden the fuck up! How are you going to survive when we all graduate and move away to the four corners of the world?”. But I DO miss you guys. And it’s hard to adjust to the fact that there is nobody a phone call or keystroke away anymore. It’s just me, myself and I.

Also, I feel SO missed, it’s insane. Friday was the last day of term, and the last day I saw anybody other than my family in person. It was one of the best afternoons EVER (aside from a short period of being completely and totally out of my comfort zone). I got to see almost everyone, and meet some new people, which was pretty cool. Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and even Monday morning were full of goodbye phone calls, texts, emails, facebook messages, even a card. You guys literally made my month :3

We're about to land now, so I shall update you guys more later.
Selamat siang anak~!

I feel like a MONSTER!

Actually, probably a Rockstar. Or a V. Or a Red Bull. Maybe even a Mother.

Caffeine. It's ingestible in many ways. It is also the lifeblood of my current existence, or, put in simple terms, the only thing that is keeping me standing at the current moment.

Those readers who have been following me for awhile would know about my generally terribly history of sleeping patterns. Yes, my insomnia has returned, and it shows absolutely no signs of going away any time soon. I have decided not to opt for sleeping pills this time around, because if they do happen to put me to sleep (which hardly ever happens), I end up with the biggest hangover the next day. It's a "lesser of two evils" situation, I guess.

Accompanying my sudden bout of insomnia is a less sudden bout of bitchiness. Yes, I know most of you are asking the same question: so what's changed? Well. I don't think it's noticeable to people other than me, and maybe one other person, but normal-bitchy (hereafter referred to as NB) is when I bitch out at people in moderation. Using the normal techniques of sarcasm, manipulation, and general emotional and mental torment. However, when I am in NB mode, I employ these techniques very carefully, in order to not push my victims too far, because I really do love most of them, deep down in that black abyss where my heart should be.

In my current bitchy mood... Well, I have no limits. Thankfully, I'm not subjecting everyone to this terrible mood of mine. Just a select few, who decided to piss me off at a terribly unfortunate time. Of course, they couldn't have known it at the time, poor things, but then, Life's not fair, is it now? As for my former measure to make sure that I didn't cross any lines, or push anybody too far... I passed the point of too far many, many days ago. I have probably crossed all the lines that I know of. And the terrible, heartless, inhumane fact of the matter is: I honestly don't care.

Living In The Sun

Rolling around laughing
In the summer sun
Playful and wild,
All the young
Beautiful children.

--

Life, the state one finds themself in when living, is a fragile thing. This state of Life, in reality, is the only thing we live for. In the teenage years, one learns much about Life, if not its value, then its extremely brittle nature. As a child, we do not understand Life much at all, let alone the notion of Death. We are observant enough to notice the perpetual absence of a loved one, but not yet intelligent enough to know how, or why, or to feel much sadness. Growing up, in the later teenage years, most have experienced the loss of someone close to them. It is a constant reminder, that Death can take us at any time - Life is not forever.

Metamorphosis

Metamorphosis. It's a mesmerising word, really. I can just see the kaeidoscope of colours that that word should, by all rights, bring to the world. Instead, metamorphosis, the beautifully intriguing word that it is, means nothing of beauty or colour, or anything in the least bit mesmerising. Rather, it is another word for change.

Change is a frightening thing. If you think about it, the tiniest little change, could upturn your entire life. Change is also, a lot of the time, beyond your own control, but somehow... All important, in the course of your life. A tiny decision, a tiptoe off the usual path, eternally alters life as you know it, whether for better or for worse.

You can tell me that change is good, you can tell me that change is normal. I will still hate it.

--

First off, sorry readers for neglecting my blog for over 2 weeks. As most of you would know, I've had exams and whatnot going on, so I haven't really spent as much time as I should have on my blog. Gomen nasai. That being said, I also seem to be suffering from a peculiar form of writer's block. I have about a dozen drafts, all of which sound terrible. The spiel of writing that you see above is the least shitty draft that I had.

I will attempt to post again tomorrow, to make up for missing the last two Wednesdays in a row. Although, it may just be another stream of consciousness, because I really lack inspiration at the moment.

And so I bid you good morrow, with these fine words:

Yes, Ash Ketchum does live in Pallet Town.

I find humanity decidedly difficult.

This is going to be a spur of the moment stream of consciousness kinda thing, because the original draft I had for today's post was apparently "too heartless" and would probably "offend some of my more sentimental readers". My draft was titled "L-O-V-E's just another word I'll never learn to pronounce", and it was basically on how I personally don't believe in love.

Yes readers, you read that right.
I.
Don't.
Believe.
In.
Love.

At least, not in the sense of a human being desperately needing another human being or else they will become morbidly depressed. The thought just irritates me. But I am going to get off this topic now, before I say something that will offend somebody, and utterly defeat the purpose of not posting the draft that I had already written up.

Love, or the feeling of love, is one of those quintessentially "human" things, much like happiness, or joy. I don't relate to any of those things. The only thing remotely in resemblance to any kind of human emotion that I feel is an overwhelming sense of worry.

Yes, worry. I've often been told that I worry way too much than is even remotely normal. Which is probably true. It's as if I'm making up for all the other emotions that I lack, and putting all the energy that I would have used to be happy, joyful, jealous, angry, or any other emotion, into worrying. About every possible thing that could happen with any small action that I do.

At the current moment, I'm worrying over who is going to read this, what they're going to think, whether I should edit it to fit their expectation. I'm worrying about people, who's going to do something stupid on the way home, and if they're going to get away with it. I'm worrying about school, about my marks from the essay I just handed in. And now I'm worrying more about my blog, and whether updating once a week is too much or too little, and wondering why people read my insane ramblings anyway.

It's amazing how many individual worries can fit into my head at a time, when I can't remember three pages for a drama script.

Sometimes it stops for a while. A loud voice yells out, above all the whispering doubts in my head...

"NIGGA, PLEASE!"

Why you such a player for?

Okay, I know I said I wasn't going to bitch, so I'm going to try. Really, really hard.

But seriously. Must you be such a player?
Just to clear it up, readers, I'm probably not talking to all of you. Not even most of you. Probably none of you.
But a certain somebody, who is a good friend of mine, asked me to lie to some girl, and basically help him to get into her pants. Which I was willing to do. Because, you know, I'm a nice, supportive friend, who is an absolutely fucking terrible influence on such young children as this one. So I did it.
Then, about 10 hours later, I realised something.

I know who this chick is.

My next thought went something like this:
OMGWTFshithellassballswhattheWHYrageemoconfusedGRARjeez
THAT IS A TERRIBLE THING TO DO TO A PERSON.

Now I'm kinda torn. Because however much I want him to get laid and be less irritatingly sexually frustrated, she's actually a really nice person. And yes, it has occured to me to ask her for her opinion, but really, I'm not one for much talking with people genuinely about feelings and such. Like, if I talk to you about my feelings, or actually listen to you rant on about yours, you are a very special person. Because feelings are very muchly out of my range, similar to human emotions. But I digress.

I don't understand the point of this at all. If you want to fuck somebody so badly, hire a hooker. What is the point of putting all that effort into fucking some chick and then having her kick you to the curb when she finds out you're a total juicebag? People try to explain to me the mentality behind it, but I just don't get it.

Wow... It's, uh, been a while

*blows dust off blog*

To my faithful readers.

Okay, let's be honest here...

To anyone who actually reads this thing.

You may have noticed the profound lack of activity on here. But nevar fear! I am going to attempt to commit to a regular update schedule (once I figure out something deep and meaningful enough to blog about).

Honestly, I think I'm actually in a better state of mind to have a blog now than I was before. Looking back at my previous posts, most of them are full of teenage angst and bitchiness. Over the past few months, I've definately grown as a person. I might have even grown up, just a teeny tiny little bit.

I've learnt who my real friends are, and figured out which ones are just pretending to be a friend. And I let them go on pretending. Surprisingly, I actually don't give a damn. If you want to put the effort into pretending to be nice to me, then that's your deal. But don't think I'm going to jump through hoops for you either. Because I honestly can't be bothered.

You're also probably going to see a lot less bitching on here too, for the most part. And if there is bitching, I will try to bitch in a very humorous and interesting way, perhaps in iambic pentameter...

So what have I actually been doing in my time away from here? Well, for starters, I have pretty much got my school life back together, being a good organised student and all, and managing to have a vague semblance of a social life. A very vague semblance. I've also managed to improve my social skills with actual, living, breathing people. HOLY SHIT. And I've managed to pick up a whole bunch of new friends. "Where do you find these people?" you may ask, and the answer, children, is that I do not find them. Throughout life, you'll meet lots and lots of people. Some of them will be around for a day. Some will be around for life. And a select few of them will touch your life so many times, that without realising it, they will shape who you are, and who you will become in the future.These peope are not found, they are brought to you by the hands of Fate, Destiny and Chance.