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?