Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Are you lonely looking for yourself out there?

This is called, unsurprisingly, "I Miss". I have a Philosophy SAC tomorrow. School is a bitch sometimes. But hey, holidays in two days :)

I miss thinking love was real.
I miss thinking kisses in the rain were the sexiest things in the world.
I miss the years when 10 o' clock was staying up late and 7 30 was getting up early.
I miss extinguishing candles with my fingers.
I miss sneaking peeks of the girl I liked in the middle of class.
I miss when "just friends" was more than enough.
I miss when chocolate was a guilty pleasure.
I miss going for days without my parents fighting.
I miss being able to talk to my mum without arguing.
I miss being able to see both sides of an argument.
I miss when my brother was the coolest guy I knew.
I miss feeling grown up because I had homework to do.
I miss when the marks didn't matter.
I miss believing that it wasn't whether I won or lost, but only how I played the game.
I miss feeling invincible.
I miss thinking I was smart.
I miss not having to choose between friends.
I miss those years where going over to someone's house was a big event.
I miss being able to bury my head in a book and ignore the world around me, not caring what people thought of me.
I miss being happy about being different instead of worried.
I miss when I didn't care about fitting in, and my mother was my best friend.
I miss standing up for what I thought was right.
I miss caring about my own life.
I miss being sure of my future career.
I miss being afraid of the monsters under the bed and not having any inside me
I miss nighttime being another world, rather than my natural habitat.
I miss wanting to go to sleep, first because I could sleep all I want instead of getting up early, then because sleep was fun rather than a bore, then because I wanted tomorrow to come quicker rather than never at all and finally because I wanted to dream of someone special, not dream of times long past.

I hope that made sense. May I suggest you try it yourself? I had 27 things I've missed, do at least 17. Now for Philosophy. Toodles.

Sunday, June 26, 2011


Isn't this nice? Exams are over and all but one of my assignments are in. In theory, and probably more likely than I think, I can still fail this semester. For now though, It's 130 in the morning and I don't want to think about anything. Thinking is so tiring sometimes. It feels like I get so little real enjoyment out of life these days. I should have gone out tonight, but I stayed home and played games. Now that exams are over I feel like I'm allowed to play games now. I'm not really. When I go through something as tense and stressful as exams, after its over I lose all the tension and fear and I don't do anything. Which would be perfectly fine if I didnt have maths and philosophy tests this week. Let me not think on't.

I wonder about my writing a lot while I type. When I write like this, its kinda like I'm talking to someone. I think I overuse commas and in essays that probably breaks flow or something. I dont actually care, it just worries me. I getting really good at touch typing now (I say as I furiously backspace misspelt words) which is cool. Hmmm.

So yeah, games games games. And its annoying, because now I have all the time I want to play, I don't want to. I've started Duke Nukem Forever - biggest waste of 130 bucks I ever spent - and now I'm stuck at a point in the Black Ops singleplayer, bored with its multiplayer because I suck at it (remind me never to play shooters on consoles) and bored with COD4 as well. I downloaded TF2 now that it's free, but I haven't even launched it yet. What else? Basically I've got a shitload of games and I don't want to play any of them.

When I'm bored I'll often come up with stuff to put up here, and now that I've got a snazzy new phone I can write them down whenever I've got a moment. Here's one I wrote a while back, been meaning to put up:

Maybe it's a little different, wherever you may live, but all the train stations in my city have a yellow line painted near the edge of the platform. The idea, of course, is that you don't cross the yellow line unless you're actually getting in the train. Its a good little rule for mothers to tell their children, but me being me, I don't listen. My favourite thing to do is step past the line as the train gets close to me. The driver looks apprehensive, and then the train rushes past in a torrent of wind and metal. There's this terrifying rush of adrenaline and fear, the knowledge that if I move but a metre forward I will die. The wind makes my eyes water and its almost an effort of will to not jump back, away from this howling monster machine. When you take the train as often as I do, you forget its a hunk of metal going 40 kilometers an hour and you forget how powerless you are against it. Its important to remember that even if we create something, doesn't mean we conntrol it, or are better than it.

I typed all that up during - you guessed it - the train ride home on a program called Evernote. I admit I just copied and pasted from my Evernote account on the computer - its too damn late to type it up.

So yeah, that's all I got to say for my self. I'm now going to go to bed. Or not. With me I can never tell.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Little things.


You know how, when you watch a TV show, or a movie, and the story's great and all, but there's things you don't see, assumed things, vaguely referenced things, things that don't go in a story. Like, in Harry Potter, you don't see every Potions class, or every time Harry practises on his broom stick. You don't see the quick hellos in the hallways, the bedtime chats about whatever Quidditch team Ron goes for (I forget). And it's these things, these assumed, unimportant things, that make reality reality and story story. And sometimes it's these things that make my day - a surprise hi from someone I don't know so well, the quiet contemplation on the way home, a chance compliment or joke. And sometimes it's these things, over time, that ruin my days. The homework left unfinished, the quiet insult in class, the time wasted in unproductive boredom. I think it's these things, these small unimportant moments, are what shape us, what makes us who we are. That's all. At the end of the day Harry and Hermione and Ron and Ginny and all those characters are going to have memories of their big moments, the big things, but the little things, after all that, are what will affect them, without thinking of them at all. I've rambled. This isn't the post I meant to write at all. Interesting. Goodnight.

Monday, June 13, 2011

I wonder if I'll be okay in the end.

I wrote something in my phone, tapping away at the touch screen on a failed trip to my mind. I need to do some homework now I always need to and I know I shouldn't be writing this - I know what I should be doing, so writing something that isn't my Lit essay, or my three English essays feels like giving up. So now I'm hoping praying pleading Joker listen to yourself don't ignore my screams that what I'm writing here will be a trigger for more writing.

So this is what I wrote. I believed it at the time. I haven't changed a word.

Sea of Humanity
I'm tumbling down through a sea of humanity. The realization that nothing actually matters is final and freeing. If nothing matters, then no one matters either. Fairness becomes irrelevant, manners pointless, kindness verges on debilitating. If rudeness is easier than no reason remain to not be rude. If I want something, taking it is only logical. Hatred and jealousy become tools rather than weaknesses and faults. My life becomes my own to do with it what I will. Questions of sanity, reason, etc. are unimportant. Lost in a sea of humanity, humanity itself is increasingly unimportant. 'Common values' drift away, useless in a world bereft of meaning. Bits of me peel off, taken by this reeking bilge water of people. why should I care if I am considered inhuman? Even if I still cared for the opinion of others, I do not wish to be a part of this curse on the earth. Emotions only delay my departure, some remaining desire for companionship only slows my desperate fall. Far better to be alone away from the insane mass of hate, passion, love, indifference, that is society. Any desire I had to be a part of this is long gone. Let [me] be free, or let me die.

No one can control me. By their own misguided laws they cannot touch me. They can take away things from me and I certainly have plenty to lose, but there is nothing to threaten me with, nothing I care for enough to worry about losing. And when they take everything they can and still cannot control me, then I have won.

That's it. If you read it (which I doubt - it's not worth it) then you can see it's bad. Its not clever, or informative or anything important. Just the whining of a spoiled brat not getting what he wants. I do that a lot.

It was my birthday two days ago. I've stopped caring about giving bits of my self away. So you know when my birthday is. Good for you. I'm not stupid enough to allow any of my passwords to have anything to do with anything as basic as my birthday. It's just a date anyway. Birthdays aren't that significant I think. I certainly don't put much by mine. I'm seventeen. I've felt seventeen for a while now.

I can't think of any of the fascinating, interesting things I was going to say. I think I'm trying to reach out, find something that means something. Or someone, more likely. I'm not heartless, I'm not empty, I'm not a monster. I'm just taking a while to get over my broken heart. Pathetic.

I hope I can make it through to the holidays.

Do you know who you are? I doubt it. I'm getting tired of having to care about you.
You don't seem to understand how I feel about you.

I hope you die alone.

Wombat and Sponge:
You guys deserve a better friend than I.

It's funny how the simplest line can start something.

Everyone else, I can't be bothered thinking of something to say.

My new theory (I have a few) is that the idea that we're all going to die because of global warming is one I've grown up with. That the apocalypse is now, and why bother doing anything long term if we're all going to hell in our lifetimes. Is that why I don't care?

 It kills me not to know this,
But I've all but just forgotten,
What the colour of her eyes were,
And her scars or how she got them.
-Savior by Rise Against

I can still remember the words and what they meant
-Audience of One by Rise Against

Do you remember? You stupid bitch you said you cried at what I said. Now we're far apart and aren't you fucking happy.
We're OK!
Until the day we're not.