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| Go to xanga.com/Drawn_Japan for more of my rants and views and stuff.
It has a friend lock, so you'll need to send me a request first.
Yeah, thanks.
And for all of those who care, life's somewhat better. | | |
| I'm terrified. Scared to fucking death about this year. I'm shaking at the thought that this year of school might be even half as bad as last year was.
I almost died several times, on purpose.
I lost almost every single friend I've ever had.
I had the worst lessons with the worst bunch of people who just sit and critisize me.
I've had a worser life last year than any of my friends. Any of them put together.
I got ditched because my friends believed some Gay Goth Vampire that I said something which I didn't.
I got the lowest grades of anyone I know.
I got insulted, hit on, and verbally abused by teachers.
I've had more physocological tests for me apparently having bipolar and/or schizophrenia than ten hands could count.
I've had to work every single ounce of my existance to just keep some friends who at the end of the day, make me feel like an awkward piece of shit they scraped off their shoe.
My wiritng went so fucking down-hill, and I've constantly been shaking as the result of nervousness, therefore my photography hasn't been good either.
And everyone tells me "this year will be better."
I can't. Litterally cannot. Can't. I cannot. I won't be able to have another day of how bad last year was, and still be able to breathe.
No body gets it. Nobody had such a bad year as I did last. Which really shits me off when people seem to need a fucking vaccation to get away from their fucking perfectly happy life.
FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh, no one was online to hear my fucking cry-outs, so hey! I spoke to a fucking computer. | | |
| Incarcerated Desires photography!
I won't be on this site too often anymore,
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This is the last post for a while..
I sitting on the concrete of my soon-to-be-re-done backyard writing yet another blog. My hair washed, and un-straightened, with the blue dye fading already. The make-ups worn off, smeared half way down my face- I don want another glance of it. The fear of being on my own yet again is weak. The want out of this house, which every single day attempts to take on more inch of soul from me, is strong, however. My friend count is looking low, and I don care too much. My neck is sore, but my back is worse- I should really go take a rest in bed for more than an hour. My theropest is still in regnant?mode, and I need someone to talk to. The scars are old, but I still am not happy.
Why wouldn I be? Eight days until Christmas- four days into my Christmas break- one year of school left. So why aren I smiling? | | |
| Ever had an enemy who was there, pretty much, 24/7? One who didn't modify, even after they were well aware of the wrong they were doing? I have. I live with this one person; this one person knows me better than anyone; this one person has been with me through thick and thin; through it all.. and hates me for it. This person and I are the worst of enemies, and with no way to abdicate them, I seem pretty much doomed for.
While all my friends tell me not to hate this person.. tell me not to change this person I hate so much, I can only see the necessity of doing so. This person I hate's not perfect- they drink, they torture their selves mentally, they make it easy to lose friends, they have a foul personality that everyone seems to love except for me; this person hates their parents and gives people a reason to hate them; this person is rude to their closest of friends; this person sets their self up for challenges they cannot face; this person's hopes are so high, that anything good surprises them; this person is completely fucked up. This person is bound to die one day unless they stop being who they are. This person has no reason to live except for the future ahead of them, which may not even happen. This person, you will soon hate. This person is clumsy, and doesn't get A's in school. This person was too occupied drawing "fuck everyone" on their margin, that they forgot to hand up the sixty million assignments due for the term. This person's life is ran by disorders and other people's two cents of what they should be. This person, instead of caring for their friends, wishes to only be happy for more than a month on end. This person wishes they'd stop eating, so that they could start the revolution of not hating their body. This person is so deep into their own heart, that they block out every relationship that could've been. This person doesn't want a perfect life at all, but they wish they wouldn't stab holes in their legs for fun. This person demands too much, and relies on all the wrong people, setting their self for a major let down by people who never cared. This person puts all of their heart into everything they do, they try at school, and fail miserably, with only the memory to remind their self of how bad it sucked. This person still, after all the times they promised me they'd do it better the next time around, manage to fail, but tell no one other than me. This person would much rather be friends with people who treat them like shit scrapped off of their shoe, than sit alone and bored, with everyone thinking they don't have friends. This person would much rather have the world believe everything's perfectly 100% than let the rest of the world believe all they want to do is cry alone in their bed, holding a butcher knife instead of someone else's hand. This person would much rather fill their screen name with sad words written by their self, that others believe are songs, than confront everyone on how alone and sad they are. This person would much rather swear at someone who's said something bad about them, than let them know they think the same about their self. This person knows depression is so clique, but still, can't seem to stay content for a week straight. This person will never like their selves, no matter how conceited and happy they seem. This person could write an A4 page on why they don't like their selves, and it wouldn't even come close to the real thing.
This person is me, and I'm sorry for that. | | |
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