26 October 2011
I hate Facebook.
I hate Twitter.
I hate Tumblr.
OMG.
I fucking hate social media.
It's sapping out every single bit of my life.
It forces me to share everything about me that I don't even have to share.
It's disgusting.
The feeling is disgusting.
I feel different.
Like.
I don't know.
It's all so fucking superficial.
If you would ask me right now what my biggest regret is.
It would be agreeing to come back to social media.
And come back with a bang.
It's all so foolish.
To quench a thirst for constant updates.
It's so fucking unnecessary.
A lot of the things are so superficial.
So fucking trivial.
It feeds everyone's vanities.
And I feel so polluted by the allure of it all.
I knew that I wanted to come into it to get your attention.
But I'm getting and craving and fucking lusting for attention.
It's scary.
I'm scared and disgusted and appalled by what social media is making me,
By what social media allows me to do.
It's all just wrong.
No one should have to know everything about everyone.
It's not necessary.
We can progress without having to know what the fuck you're doing every second.
OMG.
I'm so angry with myself right now.
What shit have I got myself into?
FUCK FUCK FUCK.
I hate this.
I want to deactivate my Facebook account.
I want to remove my Twitter and Tumblr accounts.
I just want to get away from it all.
Not all of them are my friends.
It all feels so wrong.
So twisted.
I hate it.
I despise it.
I detest it.
Social media repulses me for what I allow myself to do.
It annoys me for making me realize what little self-control I have.
HOW?
What am I going to do?
I can't possibly delete my accounts.
Then it'll just be a tired trick.
When it's not that at all.
Granted.
The first time I deactivated my account I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into (or out of).
But now I know.
I know that I want out.
And I know that I want out fast.
This all is not for me.
The forced attention.
This fake world.
It's all so fucking wrong.
WHAT THE SHIT FUCK HAVE I GOT MYSELF INTO?
I know now.
With full certainty.
That social media is not for me.
Maybe in the slightest.
But not fully.
I just hate the feeling of having a part of me out there, unattended.
Even if I put my profile on private.
There's the other hundreds of people who see my shit.
And then there's the pressure.
The pressure to not just post anything.
To not just express myself anyhow.
Because at the end of the day.
It's still about how I want others to perceive me.
And I just can't control myself with social media.
It's hard to keep to yourself.
It's hard to feel good about myself.
It's hard to feel reassured that I'm above everyone else in that I don't bother with the kind of shit that they do.
AGH.
I feel like a hypocrite for some reason.
But fuck it.
Social media can go fuck itself.
I hate it so much.
Blog.
I will always cherish you as the one true platform for me to express myself.
For me to be myself.
Uninhibited.
Unrestricted.
This is so much for liberating and less time consuming and less tiring.
It's more real.
It's more me.
No.
It IS me.
What you see of me on Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr.
Is a bit of what I want you to see of me.
A bit of what I am not.
A bit of what I'm expected to be.
And only insubstantially truly me.
It's not a good thing, this whole social media thing.
ARGH.
FUCK IT.
FUCK IT SO MUCH.
ONE OF MY BIGGEST REGRETS.
I SHOULD'VE STAYED IN OBSCURITY.
I SHOULD'VE JUST LET WHATEVER WAS HAPPENING ON FACEBOOK HAPPEN.
NONE OF IT MATTERS TO ME.
I DON'T CARE.
What do I do.
What do I do?!
I want to escape but I don't know how.
It's such a huge burden that even if I don't update it.
It'll still be there, online.
I don't want it there at all.
I don't want to be in there.
Fuck.
Help me.
2:29 AM
18 October 2011
Do you have any friends?
Do you know what sort of friends you have?
What makes a friend?
Is it wrong to have certain expectations of friends?
What does that say about you as a friend?
Do you have good friends?
Are you a good friend?
What kind of friend are you?
I think my parents and my sister think that I have no friends.
I think my friends take me for granted.
I think I expect too much from a friend.
I don't think that I'm a good friend.
I think that I'm a bad friend.
I think that I'm inconsistent.
But you know.
I think that I don't like to settle.
I think that I'm mindful of getting myself hurt.
I think that I have trust issues.
And I think that that's okay.
But I think that that's detrimental.
Friends.
Hah.
I'm at Season 8 now.
Just realized that.
What would you do for a friend?
What would you do for a friend?
See how both questions are the same and yet different?
Friends.
Who needs them?
Everyone?
Or just most people?
12:01 AM
17 October 2011
I think that one of the things that people don't know about me is how sexual I am.
And how vulgar I am.
Or at the very least.
The vast amount of sexual knowledge that I possess.
Or even more basic than that.
How sexual I can actually be (as compared to them.)
I'm generally referring to the people around me.
My friends.
My acquaintances.
My family.
Strangers who see me around.
I really think that none of them are aware of the sort of freaky I am capable of.
I curse, you know.
I know to myself doesn't count.
But I do.
A lot of times that I'm about to blurt one out, I realize that I'm in the company of those who don't and have never seen that part of me, so I restrain myself and say crap instead of shit or fish instead of fuck or just mother without the fuck(er).
I'm self-restrictive that way.
And you know.
I've never had sex.
But I'm very certain that I'd be good at it.
Or that I would know how to enjoy it.
Relish it.
So no.
I am not innocent.
Just a loser who knows a lot about sex sans the experience to boot.
One of the ways that this dirty animal inside of me manifests itself is through my outrageous, weird and outrightly strange demeanour whenever I'm around some of my friends.
Trust me when I say weird.
I am like weird.
Like nonsense spits out of my mouth.
I'm able to quite figuratively make shit happen whenever I feel like it.
It's mostly an insecurity kind of thing.
You know how people overcompensate with humour?
I do that.
Just that I go a step further and sometimes (or a lot of times) cross the line of weirdness.
But it's not completely strange.
To me.
If I'm comfortable enough to, in a paradoxical sense, let down my guard and be weird with you.
I don't see why you can't receive it graciously.
I mean.
You don't have to understand the crap that I'm spouting.
But it doesn't mean that you have to be mean or awkward about it.
I mean.
Fucking take it with lumps of salt.
I'm trying to lighten the mood with my weird humour.
I don't get why you feel the need to bring it down with taking things so seriously.
Yes.
You're not supposed to take whatever I say seriously.
But what would you prefer?
A dull dumbfuck who doesn't want to interact or a friendly freak (who, in case you're too stupid realize, actually gives you a reason to pat yourself on the back for being normal.)
You seriously don't see it?
It amazes me, really.
How some people don't know how to appreciate friendliness.
Even if it's packaged in a form of strange and outrageous jokes.
You know.
I don't know how to respond to stupidity or rudeness when all I'm being is nice to you.
You don't have to appreciate the things I do or say.
But don't subject me to your judgmental ways when I'm not even being mean to you.
I mean, really.
Bitch, please.
I can make a million and one remarks about the kind of wrong that you are.
But I don't.
Because I know that underneath that hard, brutal exterior.
Is someone who's been tormented and bullied and picked on for not living up to convention.
So don't even get me started with you, okay?
Make all the jokes you want about how I walk on my toes.
About how I'm most likely to impregnate a man first than a woman.
About how I'm a girl.
It hurts, yeah.
But I'm getting used to it.
Trying to, at least.
May never.
But you never know.
Just know that I wouldn't drag myself to that level.
Because years of mental torture has made me wiser.
I know better.
And perhaps, to some extent.
My parents taught me better.
Enough about you.
To all of you.
Who keep saying that there's only girls in the CCA.
First of all.
You're stupid for bringing down the CCA to such an expected, overplayed stereotype.
Too stupid.
And especially those directed to me.
I have this to say.
Doesn't it bother you that I'm able to be a much better girl than you are even though I have a dick?
That you probably could never measure up.
I know that could be used against me and my lack of boy-ish attributes.
But at least I'm ostensibly secure enough of myself to not have to take out my fucked up insecurities out on others.
If you think about it.
There's no use to having a vagina if you don't know what to do with it.
Me, on the other hand.
I know the sort of wonders my dick can do.
But you know.
What's the point of having a dick if I'm never going to get some?
I guess cat got my tongue this time.
1:42 AM
11 October 2011
"He's gay, right?"
Such was what my friend asked me about another one of my friends today.
Why she couldn't ask "Is he gay?" instead is beyond my comprehension.
Assumptions.
An evil thing, it is.
As an oft-victim of nasty assumptions, I plead you.
Don't pass judgment so easily.
Anyway.
I promised I would elaborate on the things I had stated in the previous post.
Basically.
I had a three-part dream.
Or dreams, I guess.
Involving Kelly Clarkson, a Literature examination and a pregnancy.
This is how it goes.
Kelly Clarkson appeared in my dreams.
And the scenario took place in my parent's room.
A version of it, at least.
It was vaguely reminiscent of her Mr Know It All video somehow.
Nothing too exciting.
Other than she turned out to be as I expected.
A nice person.
It then transitioned into a scene at the Blue Room (in school).
Where I took my ELL promo paper.
It was the most tiring and stressful part, really.
I was fucking thinking of points to write for a Literature essay.
Had I expended more energy, I think I could have remembered what my entire essay was going to be about.
How depressing is that?
To have examinations haunt you in your dreams.
To actually be intellectually thinking when you're in dreamland.
Like some sort of unresolved issue that taints a dream and turns it into an academic nightmare.
The only good part of it all was that I didn't get to writing the essay.
Just the outline.
My dumb ass was saved by the next dream.
So with all that done you'd think that things would take a turn for the better, right?
Well, from how I look at it.
It actually does get better.
Okay.
You might think that this is weird.
And I guess, in many respects, it is quite weird.
But I find it really beautiful.
So.
Here goes.
I was pregnant.
But I wasn't concerned with any of the how's or why's.
I was too preoccupied with how amazing and precious the experience was.
As in.
Not to go all maternal and gender-switcheroony-crap on you.
But it was an authentically emotional experience.
Like.
I felt such an attachment to what I thought was in me.
The feeling was indescribable.
And you know.
The saddest part of it all was that as the (what seemed like) months went by.
My tummy actually became smaller and smaller.
Like the possibility of me giving birth and holding my baby at the end of it all quickly diminishing before my very eyes.
It was sad, really.
Heartbreaking.
But okay.
Let's look at this dream symbolically.
You know how they say that dreams are of the things you think about, right?
Usually of things that you're subconsciously thinking of.
It all makes sense then.
I've always wanted to have a little sibling.
Or a little child or baby to take care of.
To shelter and care for and love and protect.
So this dream was a manifestation of that desire.
As weird as it may be.
It actually makes sense.
Overall.
One of my favourite dreams.
I had only one period for school today.
PE.
I was happy and all.
Coming to school, not thinking about anything in particular.
Not expecting much except to enjoy PE.
But you know.
Coming to school for just PE was simply too good to be true.
Guess what we did for PE?
We had soccer.
Not just that.
It was in-fucking-doors.
But wait.
I will admit.
I enjoyed myself.
Partly because I didn't suck as much as I usually do.
But mostly because you played too.
Who'd fucking expect that?
It was amazing.
I watched you play and then I got to play against you.
Though.
I was scared to get near you.
Didn't want to accidentally kick you in the face or something to the extent.
You know.
I didn't want to allow myself to do anything that would make myself repellent to you.
But yes.
One of the best PE sessions ever.
You're cute as fuck.
But very much like a boy, you are.
But that's okay with me.
Ah.
Today I am a very happy boy.
Though what's up with having your phone with you like all the time?
Who cares.
I played soccer with you.
I'm not complaining.
10:55 PM
07 October 2011
Will expand on these afterwards:
Pregnant
Literature exam
Kelly Clarkson
Dreams
4:49 AM
04 October 2011
I just had a thought.
Know what would make my 18th perfect?
If I could celebrate it with you.
That's all that I ask for.
To have you by my side.
No amount of presents could top that.
And I won't even ask for an ice-cream cake.
Nothing but you.
You're all that I want.
A quarter of a year left to go.
You never know.
But maybe I shouldn't dream so big.
Like Phoebe says.
"I find that if I keep my dreams small enough, they can come true a lot more often."
9:12 PM
She's clingy?
You're one to talk.
It kills me that you don't see that you're so fucking clingy too.
The irony isn't even funny anymore.
Sometimes I just wish that I could tell it to your face.
Because honestly.
I do not want to be around you all the time.
And I don't want you to be around me all the time either.
So just fucking back off, okay?
Don't make me dread having you as a friend.
1:32 PM
I think I would make a perfect slut.
No kidding.
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2:32 AM
01 October 2011
"I want you to be happy.
Laugh out loud.
Thrilled to be happy.
Smiling all the time.
Happy.
And if you think that this world won't give you the things that you want.
Love.
Kids.
A family.
Then I am going to have to change the world because I will not have it change you."
All that from a trailer.
A mother to her son.
What I wouldn't give for that kind of understanding.
2:28 AM
