Slightly Less Emo- But Emo all the same.

So anyway, 3 week holiday starting today. Well, school doesn’t officially finish till next Friday, but Mum said we can go away this week too. So yeah. I cannot wait to get away from this stupid little town for a few days. God! But I’m not sure I’m really looking forward to our holiday- we’re only going for 4 days, but, once I see how good life is outside this crap-hole, I’m going to be majorly unwilling to come back.

Oh, incase you haven’t noticed, this is emo day number 3. dammit. I have to work tonight. 6-9. Maintenance. Do you guys remember the last time I was on maintenance? We so do not need a repeat of that.

At school, in Art, I have been making the coolest little book thing. It’s finally finished. I’m going to make a photo album of all my mates, and cool places I go. Well, thats the plan. But I’m one of those people who start a million projects, and give up 5 minutes in. So the plan is to make the worlds coolest photo album to look back on when i’m 30.

xx

More Emo

If I could be any animal, I would be a dairy cow. Seriously. I’d get to have my breasts touched every day ( ) LOL. and eat all I want without worrying about my figure. Yeah, so today was pretty shit. Actually, it was an emo day, just like yesterday. But better, as I didn’t sook about things that are out of my control. I tell you what, though- I wouldn’t go through this bullshit of being a teenager again if you paid me. It sucks worse than a high-powered vaccuum cleaner.

Anywho, this was a shitty post from a girl who’s in a shitty mood. Catch yous all later, when (hopefully), I’m in a better mood. xx

Ouch!!

Awww… poor me. I was pasting a bunch of stuff in my scrapbook this evening when I had an epiphany. I stood up abruptly, and consequently, my head collided with the corner of my open drawer. I began to scream and cry, until Mum came in, wondering how a dying boar made it into her house. Do not ask me what the epiphany was- it was bashed out of my head through the temple that wasn’t beaten in. There’s a great big scratch, and I saw BLOOD! One things for sure- it’ll turn into a noce bruise.

Emo

I’m having an emo day. I’m not going to go into detail, as it’ll not only bore you to tears and confirm that I am a sooky little kid, it’ll defeat the whole purpose of this post. You see, I could sit here and wallow in my misery. I could write a post on how the world is against me, on how my friends don’t include me, and on how my family sucks, but I’m not going to. Instead of pushing away those who care about me, I’m going to invite them in. I’m going to do something nice for my folks to help them cope with night shift. I’m going to call my boyfriend and organize to do something before he goes on holiday. I’m going to text those people who have asked me what’s wrong. But more importantly, I am not going to shed a single tear today. Not one. Because I have so damn much to be grateful for in this world, that it would be selfish of me to cry.

The Only Evil Worth Mentioning At this Time

This may remind you uncannily of The Foresters post the other day. Before I moved here, I used to live in a lovely little community, a real family place. It was a rich area, one where graffiti and rowdy parties were at a minimum. The sort of place I would like to retire in. My best friends and I used to go to the local shopping centre after school, and hang there all weekend. Yesterday an 8 year old girl was raped and murdered in the shopping centre toilets that I had used for years. She was killed by a man who worked at the grocery store I had shopped at since I was 10. My best freinds were there, barely an hour before she was killed. It could have been my bestie. That thought is terrifying. It could have been her.

And for the little girl who was killed? What a loss. Anushka would’ve kicked his ass. But little Sophia, only 8, she was defensless. She was weak. What sort of a person does this? How much of a sick, twisted fuck would you have to be to assalt and then murder a little girl?

I sit here and I weep. I don’t know whether or not I can go back there. I don’t know whether or not I could handle it, or if I will begin to cry. I will pray for little Sophia tonight.

The Kiss

Nothing could have prepared him for that kiss. They were no longer just good mates. They could no longer hang out, chatting, drinking- just like friends do. Kyle didn't know what to do. He couldn't look at his best friend the same. Why did they kiss? What had brought it on? How could he possibly say he didn't feel the same way? He thought about it for a second, while staring into those sea-green eyes. It could never work. He could try to explain, try to break the news gently… But instead, he threw a punch.

"What the fuck, Brett? I'm no fucking faggot"

John

Everybody get comfortable, for I have a story. Now, the other day I created another page on my blog, About Me and My Blog (mainly me). Looking back, it has a lot of generally uninteresting crap about yours truly, but what can you do. So, my mate Jon, whom I posted about the other day, well he commented on this. You'll have to read it to see…

Ok, so I thought I'd let you know the story behind my teddy, and where he got his name. He is, of course, a boy. Or a male, or whatever. His name is John. John stands about 30cm high, wears a black and yellow jacket, and a hard-hat, as he is a fireman. (coincidentally no pants- bloody porno-loving teddy manufacturers!). John is the bear that sits on my bed.

Ok, so when I was 9, my Dad died. At his funeral (a rather depressing time, I might add), a man came up to me, and introduced himself. I do not remember his name, though I do wish I could tell him of the comfort his gift has brought me all these years later. His gift, of course, was a teddy bear. With a hard hat. He was a fireman, as was my Dad. (See the pattern here, guys?). My Dad's name was John. And, in a rare moment of symbolism, I named my bear that too.

Sitting here, now, looking at this bear, I realize how much solace it has had for me, and how much I would physically DIE if anything were to happen to him.

My Attempt At Poetry

I don't know why you'd say that-

As if you didn't care.

I don't know why you'd act this way-

After all that we have shared.

Have I done something wrong?

Have I said what's not the truth?

Have I betrayed your secrets,

Because to me, you have done both.

My mind is racing, my palms are sweaty,

I'm not sure what to think.

I've known you for so long now,

But this has brought me to the brink.

I'm not sure I really understand,

It's hard for me to see,

What on earth have I done to deserve this?

What? I ask, Tell me!

If you can't tell me what is wrong,

If you cannot be honest,

Then how am I to trust you, ever?

Is this the end of us?

The things you have said lately,

The little things you've done,

Ensure a harder future,

And this means you're not the one.

So as our friendship fades away,

You don't even say goodbye.

And as we go our separate ways,

I ask myself, still, why?

My stalker-obsession with Jon.

I would like to say something about Jon. Just a little something, partly because I am really hungry and plan to stuff my face in the next 5 minutes, and partly because I do not know shit about him. Now, I don't usually post about other bloggers, and I thought I'd try something new.

Ok. One day, when exeptionally bored and kida tired, I began to surf through the "tags" bit of WordPress.com. I found a post called- You are not a punk, shut the fuck up. I laughed. I really like aggressive people, so I clicked on the link and found his blog page. I have checked it every day since.

I really hope Jon doesn't read this because I believe I will end up sounding like an obsessed weirdo who stalks other people on the internet, instead of the admiring way I am aiming to write this. The point is, I think Jon is funny. And really observative. He could make a joke about anything, even in the most awkward of situations.

I guess that is why I like his blog so much. I like funny people. My best friend is funny- and I mean funny. Every day I spend with her she has me in tears. My boyfreind is funny. Stupid funny, but funny all the same. Funny people are like a magnet for me. I guess I'm kinda drawn to them.

Anyway, back to the reason I began this post (OMG soooo hungry). I reckon Jon is cool. And I'm really glad I found his blog.

And Jon- If you read this and think I'm a freak, fuck you in the neck with a slice of toast (mmmm… Oh yeah guys- I'm eating toast. Get it?)

Birthdays and Plays…

A couple fo other things-

Tuesday was Pete's Birthday- I bought him  the Harry Potter 4 movie, made him THE most gorgeous card, and enclosed $20 for him to spoil me with. I can't beleive he's 16. Old enough to get his L plates. Lol. When I was 12, I used to imagine myself being 16. It's just over a year away now. I used to think that 16 was the perfect age- parties, boys, and generally just cool. I'll never forget that. And next year, when I turn sweet 16, I'll think back to all the expectations I had, and I'll laugh.

Another thing- I was in a play. A drama class, fully fledged, modern day nightclub Romeo and Juliet play. And I was the guy who gets stabbed in the chest with a beer bottle, by a chick who comes up to my waist. Everybody clapped, everybody laughed. I always fancied myself as an actress (as all 8 year olds do), and for that one night, in front of all my friends and their parents, I was. Albiet dressed in a man shirt with an orange tie, chatting up one of my good mates…