Ignorance hinders understanding
I always find it so fucked up that we have paths. That regardless of how many different routes there are to the ultimate destination of death, we can only ever really walk on one path at a time. It's safe to say that I get bored easy but it will forever scare me that I will only be able to experience a handful of professions, a handful of people, a handful of emotions. If there was only enough time to walk every other road that had ever been made, is there potential that we as a society would understand eachother more and hurt eachother less. Our ignorance is what blinds our understanding and I have always said that it terrifies me that there's potential that any day in my future, I will meet someone that there's a chance I will spend the rest of my life with. I will wake up next to that one person every day until the day I die and that is fucked up. Why can't we all just have a little dip into someone else's bowl to see if there's is better. It's not about not being able to love someone forever or not being able to find contentment in what I'm doing. It's more specifically about making sure that what we are doing is what we really love. #shitbefucked
I can't stop writing retarded poetry.
If pain were a sport, you'd be a gold medalist
because the way I feel now, I need a therapist
Like a vortex that drags in its lonely victim
then spits them out, like a pattern, a system.
The uncontrollable emotions I feel, like a burst water pipe
as if there's something missing, you should be on Skype.
I know it sounds stupid but it was love at first sight
and now I'm in love but you're not here to hold me at night.
Like an addiction to drugs or a desire to drink
I want you in my life alot more than you think
Because the nights are so cold and I feel more alone
There was always the distance but now it's just grown.
300 k's, 4 hours away
The phone calls, the visits, it made it okay.
But now it feels like we're a world apart
and there's no bigger gap than the one in my heart
UPDATE: Okay, so i just turned this into a song and recorded it and I feel like a fucking freak. I need everyone to understand that this is not what I'm normally like.
because the way I feel now, I need a therapist
Like a vortex that drags in its lonely victim
then spits them out, like a pattern, a system.
The uncontrollable emotions I feel, like a burst water pipe
as if there's something missing, you should be on Skype.
I know it sounds stupid but it was love at first sight
and now I'm in love but you're not here to hold me at night.
Like an addiction to drugs or a desire to drink
I want you in my life alot more than you think
Because the nights are so cold and I feel more alone
There was always the distance but now it's just grown.
300 k's, 4 hours away
The phone calls, the visits, it made it okay.
But now it feels like we're a world apart
and there's no bigger gap than the one in my heart
UPDATE: Okay, so i just turned this into a song and recorded it and I feel like a fucking freak. I need everyone to understand that this is not what I'm normally like.
passing smiles or friends for life.
I have alot going on in my life right now and it finally all hit me tonight. So I decided to drive to the tallest hill in Albury, where you can see the entire town and just cry. As I looked over this place I now call my home, after every tear that I shed and the brief moments of clear vision I had, it dawned on me that none of the people in the cars going by or in the houses whose lights created patterns on the ground, know the pain I'm going through nor do I know theirs.
We live in a crazy world where everybody goes about their day, passing hundreds of people that they've never seen before and probably will never see again. A world so vast and populated, yet so small and tight knit. We go through our days bumping into people, throwing around 'excuse mes' and 'sorry's' and exchanges of small smiles out of politeness, only to be going home to the same person, texting the same people and sharing our lives with that comparatively minute group of people we call our friends and family.
So as I looked out over the people who I already have something in common with, my home, I was stuck wondering if maybe I have more in common with them. If we actually felt the same pain, found joy in the same thing and were somehow connected. I was also left considering even smaller details, like if we were from the same place, studied the same course, liked the same music. If we would be bestfriends if we ever met, if we would be lovers.
The thing that scares me the most about this world, is that somewhere out there in this 7 billion strong place we call earht, there'd be that perfect group of friends, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect colleagues. Yet, I will never meet them. I won't be able to share my pain with them and heal together and love together.
So as each person pulled into their driveway or switched off their lights ending their day, I was left to hope that maybe we'll meet another time and not just share a passing 'excuse me' or polite smile. We'll meet properly and actually learn if we share the same pain that was the reason I was sitting there watching them through tear-blurred vision.
Cee-Lo, you're psychic
Whether it is due to the ‘genetic lottery’ or that of my
acquired critical attitude, I, Sarah, am misanthropic, apathetic and malevolent.
Perhaps something went wrong in the womb or something went wrong in my life,
but generally, I have a complete hate for people which in turn alters the
relationships I have with people.
It is often assumed that when I tell people ‘I don’t like
having many friends’ that it is just an excuse to make up for the fact that I
don’t have many friends, but the truth is that because I am so critical and
dislike the majority of society, it not only results in me not wanting to
associate with many people, but impacts the relationships I do have.
Yet, there are instances where it is necessary for me to get
along with those around me, at work and school for instance that I must
suppress my general dislike for the world and attempt to get along with people
in the most appropriate way.
Cee-Lo’s song, which for the sake of appropriateness, will
be referred to as the radio edit ‘Forget You’ is one that I like to consider
the song of my life. However, instead of only aiming the chorus as people who
are ‘driving ‘round town with the girl I love’ or those who think ‘the change
in my pocket isn’t enough’; I direct it at everybody I know. A part of being
misanthropic is being mean and this is where a lot of the tension in my
friendships and between my enemy and me stems from. When I was younger, I would
describe it as constructive criticism but the reality is that it is just pure
mean-ness. Most of the time, I don’t realise how mean I am to others but there
are instances where I have genuinely damaged people as a result of my bullying
and I used to sit back and think ‘how did I get so good at this?’ Now, I am no
sociopath, in hindsight, I know that I do awful things and now, as an 18 year
old, it’s nowhere near as awful as it was. These days, it’s subconscious snide
remarks and hurtful comments that leave my mouth without going through my mind.
Most people connect apathy, malevolence and misanthropy with
sociopathy and psychopathy but I believe they are very different things. Whilst
a critical person with very few people that I like, I recognise that these are
bad qualities. However; a sociopath is seen as someone who has no sympathy or
empathy for peoples’ sadness and pain, whereas apathy is having no general
excitement for other people’s achievements and times of joy. A sociopath wants
to go out of their way to hurt others and inflict pain on those they hate
whereas misanthropy and malevolence is just having hatred or dislike for
mankind.
Having a general hate for the world and particularly the
majority of people I know is a hindrance on the relationships or potential
relationships I have with people. Although it is seen that I use my hate as an
excuse to cover up the fact that I don’t have many friendships, it is more so a
result of not wanting to be friends with people due to my criticalness of
people. Sociopathy is often a diagnosis that friends and family give to me, yet
hate and malice are two separate things and although hate is the driving force
of malice, the two can be independent. There are times when I need to supress
my dislike for people in order to keep the environment tension free and
comfortable and this tends to show that sacrifice can be required to keep the
peace.
I am Jesus
I don't know what I'm doing here and I don't know how muffled I sound when I'm talking to you whilst facing the other direction. In this world full of variety and seemingly endless opportunities, it seems rather daunting that one of the dozens of religions is the right one.
Like many people, I spent some years with a foot on each side of the line. One foot for Jesus, where I could believe and receive. The other foot for atheism. Where I considered it a place to party, sleep around and not care about anyone.
Until one day, I decided to take a step back from the starting line and quit the race.
Religion is that type of thing where, unless you're apart of it, it seems like the stupidest thing on the planet. How could people believe such a thing? How are people, in a world where our entire aim is to find answers, settle with an open ended solution? I feel like alot of my blog actually discusses things that have no answers or things that I just don't have an answer too, so you may not be surprised when I tell you I have no answer for this. Maybe I could suggest that I'm Jesus and that there is no other being because I'm beautiful and perfect. But, I'm too modest.
Religion is nothing to me. I'm not atheist, I'm not christian, I'm not Muslim. I'm a new religion called 'I don't even give a fuck' - recruitment process is tough. You don't need to promise to blow up your country or attend a ceremony once a week to eat somebodies replicated blood and skin but you do need to honestly not care.
I guess the fact of the matter is that errybod gon' do their own thing and ain't nobody gon' change dat.
If y'all need Jesus then y'all have Jesus
Religion is that type of thing where, unless you're apart of it, it seems like the stupidest thing on the planet. How could people believe such a thing? How are people, in a world where our entire aim is to find answers, settle with an open ended solution? I feel like alot of my blog actually discusses things that have no answers or things that I just don't have an answer too, so you may not be surprised when I tell you I have no answer for this. Maybe I could suggest that I'm Jesus and that there is no other being because I'm beautiful and perfect. But, I'm too modest.
Religion is nothing to me. I'm not atheist, I'm not christian, I'm not Muslim. I'm a new religion called 'I don't even give a fuck' - recruitment process is tough. You don't need to promise to blow up your country or attend a ceremony once a week to eat somebodies replicated blood and skin but you do need to honestly not care.
I guess the fact of the matter is that errybod gon' do their own thing and ain't nobody gon' change dat.
If y'all need Jesus then y'all have Jesus
Pedophilia and Zoophilia are sexualities.
I know that this post may be very controversial and alot of people will not agree with me, however, personally, I have come to the conclusion that Pedophilia and Zoophilia are sexualities.
For the many people who believe that being gay or straight is a result of nature and not nurture, than it is to be concluded that so is Pedophilia and Zoophilia. In the sense that, as Lady Gaga would say 'Born this way'.
So then why is being attracted towards children or animals so wrong? Well, for obvious reasons. These people have no ability to properly consent to something and it's just, as society would see it, disgusting.
But I personally don't think it is wrong to be attracted to children or animals. I mean, after all, they cannot help their attraction just the same as a gay man cannot help being attracted towards men and a straight man cant help being attracted towards females. It's just the way attraction works. \
I think the real issue with these 'sexualities' is not that they're attracted towards certain things which society deems un natural and wrong but more so taking action on their attraction. Obviously it is really wrong to sleep with a child or an animal.
I think that we could potentially save alot of child abuse from occuring if society was to understand that being attracted towards children wasn't a thing of choice because then it would be more spoken out about, programs could be set up to help these people as others would be more understanding and non-judgmental about the situation and then child abuse could decrease.
Furthermore, an issue surrounding this, is that scientifically, it has been proven that being a homosexual is somewhat hereditary. As in, if you have a member of your family who is gay, there is a higher chance that you are too. So is this the same with pedophiles and zoophiles?
To conclude, I don't think we should see people who are attracted to children or animals as bad people. It was just unfortunate that they were born with that attraction. Instead of condemning these people, I find it would be more appropriate to actually put in place preventative measures and provide understanding because I'm sure that it would be HELL having to know you have these attractions and subsequently having to keep them to yourself and let them eat you alive in fear that someone will find out and hate you forever.
For the many people who believe that being gay or straight is a result of nature and not nurture, than it is to be concluded that so is Pedophilia and Zoophilia. In the sense that, as Lady Gaga would say 'Born this way'.
So then why is being attracted towards children or animals so wrong? Well, for obvious reasons. These people have no ability to properly consent to something and it's just, as society would see it, disgusting.
But I personally don't think it is wrong to be attracted to children or animals. I mean, after all, they cannot help their attraction just the same as a gay man cannot help being attracted towards men and a straight man cant help being attracted towards females. It's just the way attraction works. \
I think the real issue with these 'sexualities' is not that they're attracted towards certain things which society deems un natural and wrong but more so taking action on their attraction. Obviously it is really wrong to sleep with a child or an animal.
I think that we could potentially save alot of child abuse from occuring if society was to understand that being attracted towards children wasn't a thing of choice because then it would be more spoken out about, programs could be set up to help these people as others would be more understanding and non-judgmental about the situation and then child abuse could decrease.
Furthermore, an issue surrounding this, is that scientifically, it has been proven that being a homosexual is somewhat hereditary. As in, if you have a member of your family who is gay, there is a higher chance that you are too. So is this the same with pedophiles and zoophiles?
To conclude, I don't think we should see people who are attracted to children or animals as bad people. It was just unfortunate that they were born with that attraction. Instead of condemning these people, I find it would be more appropriate to actually put in place preventative measures and provide understanding because I'm sure that it would be HELL having to know you have these attractions and subsequently having to keep them to yourself and let them eat you alive in fear that someone will find out and hate you forever.
Where have you been? - Okay, shut up Rhianna
So I've been a way for a fair while and I thought there'd be no better time to update my blog as I sit in the back of a -2 degree lecture theatre listening to a man with a lisp try to tell me about the Autonomic Nervous System. Safe to say that it's not even going through the first ear to be able to go straight out the other.
So here's an update on where I've been and why I haven't been on here in almost two months.
I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND. Her name is Ashlea and she is great.
I AM 1/6 A NURSE. I finished my first semester and it is shit.
MY HOUSEMATE IS DOING OKAY. He's still a dickhead at times but I'm dealing.
I'M PREGNANT. no, no I'm not
I'M GOING TO SYDNEY TOMORROW! My sisters 30th birthday lunch and then clubbing with the girl. Good fun.
SO I guess I haven't got a whole philosophical message to share and my apologies are distributed equally between anyone who cares.
Next time I'm back on here, which will most definitely not be in another 2 months, I will be writing a post about how little control we have. So tune in and get essited. Sweet, hope you're doing okay without my blessed and holy words. The bible is applicable in the meantime.
So here's an update on where I've been and why I haven't been on here in almost two months.
I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND. Her name is Ashlea and she is great.
I AM 1/6 A NURSE. I finished my first semester and it is shit.
MY HOUSEMATE IS DOING OKAY. He's still a dickhead at times but I'm dealing.
I'M PREGNANT. no, no I'm not
I'M GOING TO SYDNEY TOMORROW! My sisters 30th birthday lunch and then clubbing with the girl. Good fun.
SO I guess I haven't got a whole philosophical message to share and my apologies are distributed equally between anyone who cares.
Next time I'm back on here, which will most definitely not be in another 2 months, I will be writing a post about how little control we have. So tune in and get essited. Sweet, hope you're doing okay without my blessed and holy words. The bible is applicable in the meantime.
dead.
So the past two weeks or so have been such a horrible period. I think you'll find that I don't usually make posts about things that I'm going through at the current time, more so events that have passed but I'm getting drunk by myself right now, so I think I've hit an all time low.
I don't know if its entirely accurate to say that I've been suicidal, but I've definitely considered it a fair few times in the past week or so. I'm at this stage where I'm angry at myself. SO SO ANGRY. Simply because I am not strong enough to kill myself. I've had alot of problems recently. I'm not sure if it's because I've been talking/thinking about life more than usual or if it's actually because alot is going on. I think death was something that generally was on my mind more than usual but recently it's something I think about more than once a day. I'm not sure if I want to die or if I just want to get out of here. I don't have the courage to kill myself. The problem is that it's not something I would plan. I have been driving to work and to other places and I have the urge to just speed up and run into a tree. I can't do it though.
I know this post is stupid. I know that if I was to kill myself, I wouldn't tell anyone/talk about it. I'm writing this so I know that because I've spoken about it, I won't do it. It's so bittersweet. I want to do it, but I don't want to do it.
I haven't hit bottom yet. You'd think that snorting drugs and getting drunk by myself is bottom. Apparently not. So, I guess I don't know what I'm doing hey. I think suicide is strong. I think that it's courageous. I am not strong. I am not courageous. I don't even know how I'd do it.
I'm scared.
House-mate; Hell-mate
I finally got a house-mate and all I feel is regret. I always made jokes about not being able to walk around the house naked any more. And having to pretend I have social skills the get along with them. I stupidly accepted the application generally the most difficult type of people to deal with - A gay (I'm not homophobic, just a stereotyper). So I know it's too soon to really have an opinion since we've only spent two night together; but I am literally in pain. Not only has my ability to be naked in my house been inhibited but also just my ability of freedom. Before he moved in, the whole house was mine, but now, all I have is my bedroom.
Learning to live with people is difficult. There are so many pressures that I'm faced with. I don't know many people in this town, so I'm always home. I think he doesn't really like that, so I feel pressured to get out. He is like, super skinny; So I feel like I should at least pretend I'm healthy and buy healthy food. It's just really hard. He always talks about himself and his life. I don't know how long I'm going to last for.
On the other end of the spectrum; He's clean! THANK GOD. I'm a messy person when it's my own stuff. So my bedroom and well; the house before he moved in. But when I'm sharing something, like now, the house, I am considerate enough to be clean and hope they're the same.
I honestly did not think that I'd get so annoyed of a person living with me this quickly. He just sits in his room and I'm sure he's as depressed as I am. I don't find comfort in being alone, EVER. However; I don't find comfort being with him.
Moving out of home to Albury was one of the hardest things I've ever done. The scariest too. Making the decision; I couldn't wait to get out. Now, all I want is my room back, my parents fridge and my friends. e
Since moving, I've really had to learn the value of tolerance. I hate ALOT of people and I was usually not afraid to make sure they were aware of it. Now; I don't really have the option of hating anyone. Simply because I cannot afford to get on the bad side of anyone. I barely have any friends and I'm in serious struggle town. Contrary to popular belief; it's getting harder over time, not easier. I don't know how long I'm going to last with my house mate. I don't know how long I'm going to last with my course and I don't know how long I'm going to last with my life. It's tough. Tolerance is important. Strength is necessary.
Nigger, be tough.
My first time.
It's times like right now that I'm glad my blog is anonymous because I know how risky this post is and terrifying to write. But, I did say the purpose of the blog was not merely for self discovery and not even to be understood but to perhaps give something to whoever chooses to read this. This post is intense, probably a little inappropriate and very messed up. I can't say I know exactly why I'm writing it. Obviously not for attention because no one knows me. Mainly to give people an insight into the concept of mistakes. I'm going to put it down to wanting to say it, properly. To get it out and not look back because no one, not even the other girl I was with knows the full story. It's scary, very scary and very off putting too. That's life though. There's not much I can do about that. I use my past as an excuse to justify my actions in the future and I need to stop doing that. Maybe if I can get it all out that'd be the easiest place to start. So like I said, this post is messed up and I know it's going to come with judgement because I would judge the fuck out of anyone who told me this story. But I know, that I don't have to justify myself to anyone and yeah. That's all
2007
As we get older, the topic of sex becomes so much less secret and rarely ever is there little school girl moments of gasps and giggles from the listening crowds. I first noticed this in 2011 when I hooked up with a girl at a party, so ready to come to school the next week never being able to hear the end of it, but nothing happened, no one said a thing. So as we come of age, I hear more stories about peoples' first times. Some of the time, it consists of people telling me that it was a friend or even more rarely, someone they'd just met. Perhaps it's the type of people I surround myself with now, but most of the 'first time' stories are ones that are quite normal. Relationship led to sex. No big deal, it's just the way things work. Well, here's my first voluntary time story.
2007
It was a Tuesday night, I'd been living on the streets for about two weeks now and I thought that the girl that I'd been with, who for the purpose of her anonymity we will call Sammy, and I should go find a party or something to do. We stole 'no doze' from the 711 and took them. I don't really remember the transition from normal to caffeinated. I do remember however; feeling so jittery and shaky. I'd like to be able to describe it but I don't think a reasonable number of coffees could do so. We jumped on a train from Cronulla to Miranda to see if anything good was happening. I remember what I was wearing so vividly. I had high waisted black denim shorts on with my school blouse tucked in. This was just a white button up shirt. We spent a fair bit of time just roaming the streets, which honestly, wasn't much different from what I'd been doing the past few weeks. A few guys came up to us, obviously drunk from the bar they just exited and suggested we sneak in and have a few drinks with them. After many efforts to try and jump the fence, the security became aware of our existence and chased us away. Although, their efforts weren't great considering one of them genuinely fit the security/police stereotype to a tee.
After that failed attempt we got back on a train to Cronulla and walked around for a little bit. Eventually we gave up and decided to get on the last train back to the city and go find a place to sleep for the night. As we walked onto the platform, two guys walked past. One of them was a skinny bloke with tattoos all up his arms and a messy haircut. The other; clean cut, buff and very very good looking. So just as we were about to get on the train, they yelled out 'give us some leg' - I just laughed it off and got on the train. Then, something clicked in me. I stepped off the train and asked 'how much' - had facebook been around back then, the girl sitting on the platform seat would have had a very popular status. I don't know what it was that caused me to say such a thing. Maybe it was because I was poor, probably not. I think it was because I wanted to know what real sex was like. What it was like giving consent to such a thing. What it felt like when you want it. The skinny guy, who we later learn to be called Brett suggests '$50?' and before we knew it we were both on the train, in the upstairs carriage giving two random boys we had just met, head!
We got off the train at Caringbah. All of us. We walked around for a bit, Sammy and I wanting to get rid of these guys we had just met and given blow jobs too so we told them we should probably head back home.
Brett and his mate Luke then suggested that they could up the price if we slept with them. So once again, I put myself in another stupid position by saying yes. We went into a public toilet in the middle of a football field, and proceeded to get with these boys. Sammy didn't want to actually have sex with them, so she gave them head in-between them taking turns with me. After that, Luke left to go somewhere and Brett took Sammy and I back to his house. He gave us alcohol and cigarettes and told us that it's probably a good thing Luke left as he was getting married in 5 days. You know what would be the appropriate thing to say right now? It'd be appropriate for me to say how guilty I felt. How horrible it was that I had slept with another persons fiance. That I had done that to her. But I didn't give a shit. It didn't even bother me. Sammy was visibly disturbed by it so she left the room for a bit. Brett spoke to me about our age. We had previously lied about being 16 and in hindsight, he totally knew we weren't 16 since he told us a story about how 13 year olds tricked him into sleeping with them saying they were 17. I was 12, I was concerned that I was sleeping with what he claimed to be a 21 year old. Then, he told me he was 27 years old and I laughed. Sammy was still out of the room and Brett put on a porn movie. It wasn't a romantic one, it was one where the guy was tying ropes around the girls neck, holding her under a tap and 'raping' her. I was having memories of my experience, so I asked him to 'get out of me' and turn off the video. He did it and then returned to the bed where we continued what we were doing. I was drunk, Brett was stoned. It was not too bad.
The next morning, we woke up, he gave us our money and walked us out of the house into a taxi. His neighbour was a police officer, so he did it very subtly.
Sammy and I went to McDonalds for breakfast and to reflect on what we'd just done. I wasn't concerned, I can't speak for her but she didn't look worried by it either.
I know that what we did was messed up.
It was technically illegal on their part, but it was 100% consensual.
I cannot bring myself to think about the fact that I slept with a man who was 5 days shy of being a husband. I don't have any emotions about it because I haven't really accepted that. Infact, I haven't really accepted any of this. Lots of my life recollections feel fake. Like it didn't really happen. This is predominantly because I learnt to disassociate myself with it. So as I recall it, it doesn't feel like I actually experienced it.
The purpose of this post was to let you know that we are all reckless and stupid when we're young. I do not regret this. I mean, it's probably something I should regret, but I've learnt that there's no point regretting things. I almost definitely would have preferred a different first time, but this experience has made me learn so much about the concept of sex and love, in more ways than can be described.
I know that it is basically disgusting that I slept with a 27 year old when I was 12. I know it makes me seem like a slut. I just hope that this story teaches people that we can never understand why people really do certain things. I don't even know why I did this but it was almost certainly not because I just wanted to 'put out' and have sex. Like I said, I wanted to give myself a better perspective of sex from what I had gained off my brother and honestly, this did such a thing. Brett and Luke treated us with such respect and kindness.
As we left, Brett told me not to feel guilty about Luke getting married because they were going to a brothel that night anyway. So yes, I was basically a prostitute. A whore. But that was a mistake I have had to come to terms with and I am now sharing to give you the vision that not many mistakes could be worse than this one and if I can accept it and not regret it, then you can too.
Brett and his mate Luke then suggested that they could up the price if we slept with them. So once again, I put myself in another stupid position by saying yes. We went into a public toilet in the middle of a football field, and proceeded to get with these boys. Sammy didn't want to actually have sex with them, so she gave them head in-between them taking turns with me. After that, Luke left to go somewhere and Brett took Sammy and I back to his house. He gave us alcohol and cigarettes and told us that it's probably a good thing Luke left as he was getting married in 5 days. You know what would be the appropriate thing to say right now? It'd be appropriate for me to say how guilty I felt. How horrible it was that I had slept with another persons fiance. That I had done that to her. But I didn't give a shit. It didn't even bother me. Sammy was visibly disturbed by it so she left the room for a bit. Brett spoke to me about our age. We had previously lied about being 16 and in hindsight, he totally knew we weren't 16 since he told us a story about how 13 year olds tricked him into sleeping with them saying they were 17. I was 12, I was concerned that I was sleeping with what he claimed to be a 21 year old. Then, he told me he was 27 years old and I laughed. Sammy was still out of the room and Brett put on a porn movie. It wasn't a romantic one, it was one where the guy was tying ropes around the girls neck, holding her under a tap and 'raping' her. I was having memories of my experience, so I asked him to 'get out of me' and turn off the video. He did it and then returned to the bed where we continued what we were doing. I was drunk, Brett was stoned. It was not too bad.
The next morning, we woke up, he gave us our money and walked us out of the house into a taxi. His neighbour was a police officer, so he did it very subtly.
Sammy and I went to McDonalds for breakfast and to reflect on what we'd just done. I wasn't concerned, I can't speak for her but she didn't look worried by it either.
I know that what we did was messed up.
It was technically illegal on their part, but it was 100% consensual.
I cannot bring myself to think about the fact that I slept with a man who was 5 days shy of being a husband. I don't have any emotions about it because I haven't really accepted that. Infact, I haven't really accepted any of this. Lots of my life recollections feel fake. Like it didn't really happen. This is predominantly because I learnt to disassociate myself with it. So as I recall it, it doesn't feel like I actually experienced it.
The purpose of this post was to let you know that we are all reckless and stupid when we're young. I do not regret this. I mean, it's probably something I should regret, but I've learnt that there's no point regretting things. I almost definitely would have preferred a different first time, but this experience has made me learn so much about the concept of sex and love, in more ways than can be described.
I know that it is basically disgusting that I slept with a 27 year old when I was 12. I know it makes me seem like a slut. I just hope that this story teaches people that we can never understand why people really do certain things. I don't even know why I did this but it was almost certainly not because I just wanted to 'put out' and have sex. Like I said, I wanted to give myself a better perspective of sex from what I had gained off my brother and honestly, this did such a thing. Brett and Luke treated us with such respect and kindness.
As we left, Brett told me not to feel guilty about Luke getting married because they were going to a brothel that night anyway. So yes, I was basically a prostitute. A whore. But that was a mistake I have had to come to terms with and I am now sharing to give you the vision that not many mistakes could be worse than this one and if I can accept it and not regret it, then you can too.
I just want to be heard.
Every time I log off my normal Gmail account and into this anonymous one, I for some reason hope and genuinely consider the possibility that my view count has dramatically risen and aknifeinagunfight has become popular. Not for the popularity and that high you get when you know people like you, but so I know I'm being heard. I think that's what everyone really wants though. Some people self harm so that their voice can be noticed. Others are over confident and loud, so someone acknowledges what they're saying. Others are humble and patiently waiting for their chance for someone to listen.
Ever since I was little, I always thought that my thoughts were not normal. I know in previous posts, I've mentioned my past sociopathic tendencies, but this is not what I mean. I always considered my opinion on things to be mature for my age and in some cases, mature for any age. When I was 7, I was asking myself who I am. How someone can adopt a personality and how we came about to exist. It never did and still doesn't make sense to me. When I was 12, I was thinking about suicide. Life and death and what that really means. How one day we can be here and the next day we aren't. Where we go, how our memory lives on or doesn't live on.
I was always told that I read into things too much. That I always think there's a back story or ulterior motive behind everything. When it came down to things like religion, it seemed way to illogical to even make sense. How can millions of people believe that kind of stuff? How can intelligent people be fooled into believing something so contradicting and irrational? Even the really simple stuff, I'd read into. How a bag of salted nuts on my desk reflects how people like different things. Stupid things; Like how fences around houses represent the fence around our selves; the masks we wear to prevent people from seeing our vulnerabilities. And even though I'm constantly told that I should just start accepting things as they are, I feel like my opinions; my thoughts; regardless of how irrelevant they are to the subject, shed light on a numerous array of things that people face everyday.
I know I'm nothing special; don't get me wrong. I'm just an average teenager. My past may not be one that most people experience and my views on things may not be either. However; I honestly don't see a problem with that. When I went through my religious stage, I was often told that 'God' gave me this life for a reason. He gave it to me because he knows that I can handle it. And although I definitely don't believe in God and I'm not entirely sure that my life was even planned out before it began, like fate or something, I do know is that it doesn't matter what kind of life I had. It doesn't matter if I grew up in the perfect de facto family with my parents still married and I was one of 2.5 kids. I just know that regardless of the circumstances, life is ultimately what I make of it. If I chose to keep living with one foot in the past and one foot in the present, I'd be in a bit of a predicament that somewhat represents Will Ferrell on the escalator in the movie 'Elf'.
So yes, I want to be heard. Partly, because it's just an innate desire to be heard. Mainly because I've done a pretty damn good job turning my life around and making something of my shitty childhood. It gave me the ability to see things in a way that other people may not. To 'read into things too much' and understand life like the majority of people cannot. I want to be heard because I know for a fact that although I use analogy's like salted pistachios sitting on my desk, I present a valid point that deserves to be listened too. I've worked too hard to be left silent. I guess it's just a little discouraging to put in so much effort for it to go unnoticed. Don't misinterprate what I've said, please. I don't want people to acknowledge my hard work regarding turning my life around and bettering my situation, because that has nothing to do with anyone else and I am the soul beneficiary of that. I just want people to listen to what I've learnt during my journey. I just want to be heard.
Ever since I was little, I always thought that my thoughts were not normal. I know in previous posts, I've mentioned my past sociopathic tendencies, but this is not what I mean. I always considered my opinion on things to be mature for my age and in some cases, mature for any age. When I was 7, I was asking myself who I am. How someone can adopt a personality and how we came about to exist. It never did and still doesn't make sense to me. When I was 12, I was thinking about suicide. Life and death and what that really means. How one day we can be here and the next day we aren't. Where we go, how our memory lives on or doesn't live on.
I was always told that I read into things too much. That I always think there's a back story or ulterior motive behind everything. When it came down to things like religion, it seemed way to illogical to even make sense. How can millions of people believe that kind of stuff? How can intelligent people be fooled into believing something so contradicting and irrational? Even the really simple stuff, I'd read into. How a bag of salted nuts on my desk reflects how people like different things. Stupid things; Like how fences around houses represent the fence around our selves; the masks we wear to prevent people from seeing our vulnerabilities. And even though I'm constantly told that I should just start accepting things as they are, I feel like my opinions; my thoughts; regardless of how irrelevant they are to the subject, shed light on a numerous array of things that people face everyday.
I know I'm nothing special; don't get me wrong. I'm just an average teenager. My past may not be one that most people experience and my views on things may not be either. However; I honestly don't see a problem with that. When I went through my religious stage, I was often told that 'God' gave me this life for a reason. He gave it to me because he knows that I can handle it. And although I definitely don't believe in God and I'm not entirely sure that my life was even planned out before it began, like fate or something, I do know is that it doesn't matter what kind of life I had. It doesn't matter if I grew up in the perfect de facto family with my parents still married and I was one of 2.5 kids. I just know that regardless of the circumstances, life is ultimately what I make of it. If I chose to keep living with one foot in the past and one foot in the present, I'd be in a bit of a predicament that somewhat represents Will Ferrell on the escalator in the movie 'Elf'.
So yes, I want to be heard. Partly, because it's just an innate desire to be heard. Mainly because I've done a pretty damn good job turning my life around and making something of my shitty childhood. It gave me the ability to see things in a way that other people may not. To 'read into things too much' and understand life like the majority of people cannot. I want to be heard because I know for a fact that although I use analogy's like salted pistachios sitting on my desk, I present a valid point that deserves to be listened too. I've worked too hard to be left silent. I guess it's just a little discouraging to put in so much effort for it to go unnoticed. Don't misinterprate what I've said, please. I don't want people to acknowledge my hard work regarding turning my life around and bettering my situation, because that has nothing to do with anyone else and I am the soul beneficiary of that. I just want people to listen to what I've learnt during my journey. I just want to be heard.
Betrayal and reactions.
About a week ago, my mum posted a picture on Facebook of a little girl I had never seen before. It was captioned with 'My Grand daughter + 1st Birthday Cake = Very Happy Girl' and I sat there for about 5 seconds trying to work out who the heck that was, when it hit me. That little girl is my brothers daughter. For anyone lost here, I suggest you go read my post 'It's better in than out'
I already knew he had a kid. However; I never even thought about it. You'd think I'd be betrayed. I'd be hurt or something. But I'm not. I'm honestly not even surprised that she'd go see him. It isn't beneath her. Yet, I don't think that's the reason I'm not hurt and it only really dawned on me why. I am in slight denial. Even though it's logical that this little girl is infact my niece and my brothers daughter. A part of me is denying that fact. A part of me is considering that perhaps I misunderstood the caption and the little girl is actually somehow her granddaughter through other methods. I know that's basically impossible and I know that this HAS to be my brothers kid, but I just can't accept that. My heart won't let me accept that.
When I first saw the photo; I cried. Only for a second. I honestly think I cried because I was trying to react how I should have been reacting. I think I cried, because that's what a normal person would do. I know they say everybody deals with things differently, but I know that the way I'm dealing with this, doesn't actually involve with dealing with anything at all. Which is how I cope and how people should cope, because it works. I told my two best friends when I was a drunk mess and one was supportive, understanding why I should feel betrayed. The other one said that 'family is always family and no matter what they do, we will always love them' - basically meaning that I shouldn't feel hurt, because he is her son and she will always love him regardless of what happens.
I think the lesson I've learnt from this so far is that; when we feel we aren't reacting 'normally', we spend time trying to alter our feelings and subsequently, this hinders us from healing.
I know when I really came to terms with the fact that I was raped, I spent ages trying to make myself respond to it the way a normal person would. I tried blaming myself and I tried hating myself. I tried hating him.
There's things in my way of acting that clearly reflect my past. I generally don't like to be hugged. I used to really hate kissing. When I lost my voluntary virginity, the guy kept insisting we kiss and I felt beyond uncomfortable and he noticed that. Nether-the-less, my reactions were not what were portrayed on Law and Order SVU and this made me spend time digging my hole deeper, rather than trying to climb to the top.
It genuinely comes down to what works best for you. I found that in most ways, not talking about our problems is beneficial. I found that not caring about something that is usually considered as a big deal, doesn't mean you're responding incorrectly; It means you're dealing with it in your own way. Most of all; I have learnt that it is not imperative to try and make yourself react to something; because this is simply counter productive.
I already knew he had a kid. However; I never even thought about it. You'd think I'd be betrayed. I'd be hurt or something. But I'm not. I'm honestly not even surprised that she'd go see him. It isn't beneath her. Yet, I don't think that's the reason I'm not hurt and it only really dawned on me why. I am in slight denial. Even though it's logical that this little girl is infact my niece and my brothers daughter. A part of me is denying that fact. A part of me is considering that perhaps I misunderstood the caption and the little girl is actually somehow her granddaughter through other methods. I know that's basically impossible and I know that this HAS to be my brothers kid, but I just can't accept that. My heart won't let me accept that.
When I first saw the photo; I cried. Only for a second. I honestly think I cried because I was trying to react how I should have been reacting. I think I cried, because that's what a normal person would do. I know they say everybody deals with things differently, but I know that the way I'm dealing with this, doesn't actually involve with dealing with anything at all. Which is how I cope and how people should cope, because it works. I told my two best friends when I was a drunk mess and one was supportive, understanding why I should feel betrayed. The other one said that 'family is always family and no matter what they do, we will always love them' - basically meaning that I shouldn't feel hurt, because he is her son and she will always love him regardless of what happens.
I think the lesson I've learnt from this so far is that; when we feel we aren't reacting 'normally', we spend time trying to alter our feelings and subsequently, this hinders us from healing.
I know when I really came to terms with the fact that I was raped, I spent ages trying to make myself respond to it the way a normal person would. I tried blaming myself and I tried hating myself. I tried hating him.
There's things in my way of acting that clearly reflect my past. I generally don't like to be hugged. I used to really hate kissing. When I lost my voluntary virginity, the guy kept insisting we kiss and I felt beyond uncomfortable and he noticed that. Nether-the-less, my reactions were not what were portrayed on Law and Order SVU and this made me spend time digging my hole deeper, rather than trying to climb to the top.
It genuinely comes down to what works best for you. I found that in most ways, not talking about our problems is beneficial. I found that not caring about something that is usually considered as a big deal, doesn't mean you're responding incorrectly; It means you're dealing with it in your own way. Most of all; I have learnt that it is not imperative to try and make yourself react to something; because this is simply counter productive.
It's 5:30 am, I have no friends. Just appreciate me haha
Before tonight, I'd only ever witnessed a shooting star when I was debilitatingly intoxicated. As I sat outside, in the 2.9 degree weather, looking up at the sky smoking my last cigarette, it dawned on me that Albury and I have a bitter sweet relationship. I know, that in Melbourne, because of the illumination caused by the suburban lights and city skyscrapers, it is rare to see a shooting star, but tonight, I saw 3. As I gazed into the night sky for the short length of my cigarette, I couldn't help but consider how small we are. And as I took my last drag and my vision of the sky was clouded with smoke, it also made me consider how big we are too.
Some people claim that 10% of the stars we look at in the night sky, no longer exist. They are dead but we see them because their light continues to travel towards earth. As I shut the door, ending the connection between the sky and I, I was left wondering if we too leave light after we die. Whether we can continue to shine well after our years have passed. I never took one history class, even in the younger years where under some curriculum's it was compulsory, so please excuse me if I fail to recall even brighter lights left illuminating the earth, but when I think of people who have made a real difference in the world, I think of Martin Luther King, who's values of non violent civil rights still impact the way we live our lives and respect minorities.
Winston Churchill who inspired the British population to continue the fight against Hitler and the Nazi's and to stand up for what was right, which was the value of all lives regardless of race or religion. Abraham Lincoln, who ended slavery in the United States of America. Even, potentially, Jesus Christ.
In the grand scheme of things, we consider those people, individuals who changed the world. Yet, could we not consider everybody having some form of impact on the world. In the sense that, even though we gaze out into the stars only to be reminded that we are a tiny, tiny aspect of the universe. However; we have such great impact on our surroundings. As independent individuals, it is almost inevitable that we will affect someone or something in the world. Whether it be as great as eradicating slavery, providing minorities with the same rights as everybody else or standing up for the lives of every human being. Or as small, yet sufficient as respecting those around us, loving one another and supporting one another. We stand to prove as a greater force than expected.
However; with that said, perhaps in contrast to this theory, do people still alive continue to exist, yet shine no light? Are there people in this world who live for themselves and have no impact on anybody anywhere? Are there people who exist, but not live? Individuals who survive but not support?
So as I leave my thoughts of the small stars contrasting against the giant universe, I am left to consider that maybe just like the stars light eventually dims, does ours too?
Some people claim that 10% of the stars we look at in the night sky, no longer exist. They are dead but we see them because their light continues to travel towards earth. As I shut the door, ending the connection between the sky and I, I was left wondering if we too leave light after we die. Whether we can continue to shine well after our years have passed. I never took one history class, even in the younger years where under some curriculum's it was compulsory, so please excuse me if I fail to recall even brighter lights left illuminating the earth, but when I think of people who have made a real difference in the world, I think of Martin Luther King, who's values of non violent civil rights still impact the way we live our lives and respect minorities.
Winston Churchill who inspired the British population to continue the fight against Hitler and the Nazi's and to stand up for what was right, which was the value of all lives regardless of race or religion. Abraham Lincoln, who ended slavery in the United States of America. Even, potentially, Jesus Christ.
In the grand scheme of things, we consider those people, individuals who changed the world. Yet, could we not consider everybody having some form of impact on the world. In the sense that, even though we gaze out into the stars only to be reminded that we are a tiny, tiny aspect of the universe. However; we have such great impact on our surroundings. As independent individuals, it is almost inevitable that we will affect someone or something in the world. Whether it be as great as eradicating slavery, providing minorities with the same rights as everybody else or standing up for the lives of every human being. Or as small, yet sufficient as respecting those around us, loving one another and supporting one another. We stand to prove as a greater force than expected.
However; with that said, perhaps in contrast to this theory, do people still alive continue to exist, yet shine no light? Are there people in this world who live for themselves and have no impact on anybody anywhere? Are there people who exist, but not live? Individuals who survive but not support?
So as I leave my thoughts of the small stars contrasting against the giant universe, I am left to consider that maybe just like the stars light eventually dims, does ours too?
Bad Thoughts; Bad Teachers and Bad Outcomes.
Guiz, dis post iz relly scarry nd itz da ferst tym ive cum out bout wot happenz in mi hed so im sorrie if it herts ur fealings. I jus got 2 da point were i waz reedii 2 share. so plz b respektfull and understande dat this aint me n e more and I am not dis wai N E more. fanks.
I'd always been a bit of a cyberchondriac (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cyberchondria) - look, even diagnosing my diagnosing issue. Anyway, in 2011 (year 11), one of my teachers started emphasising my lack of empathy. So one day I asked her if she thought I was a Socio-path and she responded with what defines a sociopath and said after that 'yes, you quite possibly could be.' This lead to me taking internet test after internet test to 'see what mental illness you have' or 'which personality disorder do you have' and I never really got high results in the sociopathy range but I did in the borderline and the narcissistic areas. I spent a while contemplating my likelihood of having this and my lack of ability to do anything about it but then I got over it and went back to thinking I was normal.
So in 2012 after a few events where I almost got expelled from school, I fell pretty deeply. I don't think anyone really noticed it but it was hell. For the first few weeks after nearly getting kicked out, my life was hell. I lost the last bit of enjoyment I found in school and I just lost a general excitement for life. Not only this, but my grades came tumbling down and my anger for the world and for the people who had put me in the situation I was in accelerated (I kind of put myself in the situation but it was taken way out of proportion and expulsion should have never been on the cards). I can't say I have the right to blame my teacher because I'm pretty sure it was inevitable to happen and sooner or later, something was ought to set me off sooner or later.
Anyway, after all that went down, I went through a really, really bad anger problem. Anything set me off and I literally got to the stage where I considered killing people. I visualised their murder and I imagined their faces as I took away all they have. I always said back then, that if I ever got to the point where I was going to kill myself, I would have absolutely no hesitations taking a group of people with me. I also used to think that if Australia had American gun laws, I probably would have been the culprit of a harsh and disgusting massacre, had I not loved myself too much either. So yeah, I got to this new stage where I was genuinely convinced I was a sociopath and instead of trying to get over it, I embraced it. I used to ask people all these sly questions like 'how would you kill someone without getting away with it?' and 'how would you kill yourself?' - I hated everyone
Maybe I convinced myself of this because I'd cyber-diagnosed myself with sociopathy or maybe I genuinely did hate every one. I invented this thing called the hate list and it was basically a ranking of everyone I hated, a top, a bottom and the inbetween. The only person not on it was my dad.
People have no idea of what was in my mind. I've gotten to the point where I have to teach myself techniques to stop thinking bad thoughts. Back then, it was everyday and every night. Now, it only comes to me sometimes when I'm trying to sleep. It's horrible. I see people trying to rape me, I see me killing people, I visualise torturing people and I watch myself laugh at this. And I can't get this out of my head. Back then, it was debilitating, infact, it still is. When I'm lying in bed trying to fall asleep and an image of me with a knife in my hand, hacking away at someone pops in my head. It takes everything inside of me to get my mind off this thought. I try focussing on my breathing, I try thinking of what I'm doing tomorrow or what I did that day. In the end, sometimes it takes getting up, turning the lights on and watching a video on youtube or something to get it off my mind.
In the past 6 months, I started getting alot closer to someone. She listens to my late night rants and sometimes I send her excerpts of my blog posts for her to read. I started telling her that I'm not like other people. I don't think like other people and she just kept trying to tell me that I'm more normal than I think and more normal than someone who has had my life should be. I don't think so. I don't think it's normal for people to have those thoughts in their mind.
I got over my 'phase' - if that's what you can call it.
I don't want to kill anyone, I feel sorry for people - sometimes, maybe
The awful visualisations in my head are recurring less and less and I don't really have that much of an anger issue anymore.
I'm sorting my shit out. One step at a time, or one less day dream at a time.
It's hard and honestly, I didn't actually comprehend how hard or how big of a deal it was until literally now, writing this post.
Seriously, if anyone else has these thoughts and doesn't want them, please email me. I have something to tell you just between us. It helped me and it can help you too for just $29.95 a month.
I'm kidding, I will share my knowledge for free.
xoxo gossip god.
Tribute videos and facebook status'
All you have to do is search 'Rest In Peace' on YouTube to see the hundreds, if not thousands of tribute videos to young people who have passed away.
Whether it be a 14 girl who just killed herself because she was being bullied her whole life, or a 17 year old boy murdered for being black. A ten year old boy who died of leukaemia or a 16 year old girl stabbed on a bus.
I've seen the aftermath of death, who hasn't? I've watched as a whole school completely collapses as one of the students dies. I've watched year 8's have to learn how to go on without their bestfriend. 14 year olds. I've seen countless Facebook status', instagram photos and YouTube videos posted to try and keep this girls memory alive. But the question is, does it really have it's desired effect? or more so, is the desired effect even the moral one?
I've come to notice one certainty in death. You seem the make a hell of a lot of new friends once you're dead. Everyone and their dog claims to have been your best friend and some people find any excuse and claim to have had some form of connection to you. Honestly; I know I did when T.K died. I didn't purposely go out of my way to gain attention from people who would give it, nor did I intentionally exaggerate my relationship with her for any purpose. But I mean, I coached her for a year, I was as close as a year 7 can be to a year 10 which isn't close at all.
I hope, I really do hope, that when people post shit on Facebook and social networks of the like, that they are really doing it out of respect and there is no hidden motive to do it for the attention or for the 'likes' - but sometimes, I just know that it's gone way past the stage of respect.
There comes a time when you have to move on. Posting a status everyday doesn't help anybody, but when the sister of the victim does it, it's causing nothing but harm. I know this sounds rude, but I'm getting a little sick of seeing, what looks like, a dead person's own sister 'milk' her death for the attention. I may be wrong, but I just honestly don't see the point in posting shit about dead people. yes, I'm guilty of this but I've grown up and realised it's pointless.
Cool. watching videos on YouTube of pictures of dead people is really respectful. And listening to depressing music is really fucking healing. Reading status' about how much someone misses someone dead is really productive and seeing pictures posted of this young girl who has passed on Instagram is really fucking inspiring.
I don't know why people, especially people really close to the dead person, see necessity or purpose in publicising their loss. I don't actually see what their is to achieve by writing 'R.I.P sissy! Missing you everyday, life is harder than ever without you baby girl' as their status because it's not like this person can click the 'like' button.
All I know is that when I die, if people I hated and people who hated me even dare to think it's acceptable to come to my funeral, update a status, post a photo of us two that they probably photo shopped, I will haunt the fuck out of them because that shit ain't okay!
JUST KIDDING! I CAN'T HAUNT THEM BECAUSE I'M DEAD AND DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS BEING POSTED ON THE INTERNET LIKE THE REST OF THE FUCKING DEAD PEOPLE!
like, shit nigger! People really need to work their shit out.
Whether it be a 14 girl who just killed herself because she was being bullied her whole life, or a 17 year old boy murdered for being black. A ten year old boy who died of leukaemia or a 16 year old girl stabbed on a bus.
I've seen the aftermath of death, who hasn't? I've watched as a whole school completely collapses as one of the students dies. I've watched year 8's have to learn how to go on without their bestfriend. 14 year olds. I've seen countless Facebook status', instagram photos and YouTube videos posted to try and keep this girls memory alive. But the question is, does it really have it's desired effect? or more so, is the desired effect even the moral one?
I've come to notice one certainty in death. You seem the make a hell of a lot of new friends once you're dead. Everyone and their dog claims to have been your best friend and some people find any excuse and claim to have had some form of connection to you. Honestly; I know I did when T.K died. I didn't purposely go out of my way to gain attention from people who would give it, nor did I intentionally exaggerate my relationship with her for any purpose. But I mean, I coached her for a year, I was as close as a year 7 can be to a year 10 which isn't close at all.
I hope, I really do hope, that when people post shit on Facebook and social networks of the like, that they are really doing it out of respect and there is no hidden motive to do it for the attention or for the 'likes' - but sometimes, I just know that it's gone way past the stage of respect.
There comes a time when you have to move on. Posting a status everyday doesn't help anybody, but when the sister of the victim does it, it's causing nothing but harm. I know this sounds rude, but I'm getting a little sick of seeing, what looks like, a dead person's own sister 'milk' her death for the attention. I may be wrong, but I just honestly don't see the point in posting shit about dead people. yes, I'm guilty of this but I've grown up and realised it's pointless.
Cool. watching videos on YouTube of pictures of dead people is really respectful. And listening to depressing music is really fucking healing. Reading status' about how much someone misses someone dead is really productive and seeing pictures posted of this young girl who has passed on Instagram is really fucking inspiring.
I don't know why people, especially people really close to the dead person, see necessity or purpose in publicising their loss. I don't actually see what their is to achieve by writing 'R.I.P sissy! Missing you everyday, life is harder than ever without you baby girl' as their status because it's not like this person can click the 'like' button.
All I know is that when I die, if people I hated and people who hated me even dare to think it's acceptable to come to my funeral, update a status, post a photo of us two that they probably photo shopped, I will haunt the fuck out of them because that shit ain't okay!
JUST KIDDING! I CAN'T HAUNT THEM BECAUSE I'M DEAD AND DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS BEING POSTED ON THE INTERNET LIKE THE REST OF THE FUCKING DEAD PEOPLE!
like, shit nigger! People really need to work their shit out.
homesick
I recently moved out of home.
two weeks ago, today, infact!
Before I left, I was telling people that I was moving 4 hours away and all they kept saying was 'how brave I was' - and all I kept thinking was; 'It's not brave?'
Now I know exactly what they meant.
It was a pretty quick decision. I mean, I was always looking into moving out after school but once I started looking into it, I kind of realised that I would never be able to afford it.
So about 3 and a half weeks ago, I decided to apply for Nursing in Albury-Wodonga, that same day I was accepted and two days later I was up here looking for accomodation. Three days later, my lease application got accepted and within a week, I was in my new apartment. So I never really got much of a chance to think about what it's going to be like and what will happen.
I sort of had this theory that I'd move here, instantly make friends and I'd love it. But the reality is quite the opposite. I didn't know anyone when I came, and I still don't. I know it's only been 2 weeks, but you would think I would at least be in that stage of 'potential friends' with someone by now.
I always just told myself that I am really good with change and I will adapt easy. And honestly, I have adapted alot easier than the majority of people in my situation would have. My whole life has changed basically. I have a new job, a new house, a new town and a whole new school too. I know nobody here and it's all completely different from back in Melbourne. And I'm coping. Some times it's hard, really hard. and sometimes I am enjoying myself.
I didn't really know what I was in for when I decided to move, so now I'm here, I really do understand why everyone considered my decision to move as bravery.
It was pretty brave and I'm having to be strong everyday to try and overcome the overwhelming feelings of loneliness and homesickness.
I love my course, I love my house. But sometimes I wonder if I should have considered that I love my friends, my family and my old life even more. There are definitely times where I've regretted the decision to move. It's gotten easier with each passing day though!
The one thing I will never get used to, and thank god for that, is the way people speak here. The constant usage of the, I'm not going to say it's a word because that would offend the english language, but the term 'yous' and how most people say 'everythingk' and 'somethingk' - please learn how to talk properly.
two weeks ago, today, infact!
Before I left, I was telling people that I was moving 4 hours away and all they kept saying was 'how brave I was' - and all I kept thinking was; 'It's not brave?'
Now I know exactly what they meant.
It was a pretty quick decision. I mean, I was always looking into moving out after school but once I started looking into it, I kind of realised that I would never be able to afford it.
So about 3 and a half weeks ago, I decided to apply for Nursing in Albury-Wodonga, that same day I was accepted and two days later I was up here looking for accomodation. Three days later, my lease application got accepted and within a week, I was in my new apartment. So I never really got much of a chance to think about what it's going to be like and what will happen.
I sort of had this theory that I'd move here, instantly make friends and I'd love it. But the reality is quite the opposite. I didn't know anyone when I came, and I still don't. I know it's only been 2 weeks, but you would think I would at least be in that stage of 'potential friends' with someone by now.
I always just told myself that I am really good with change and I will adapt easy. And honestly, I have adapted alot easier than the majority of people in my situation would have. My whole life has changed basically. I have a new job, a new house, a new town and a whole new school too. I know nobody here and it's all completely different from back in Melbourne. And I'm coping. Some times it's hard, really hard. and sometimes I am enjoying myself.
I didn't really know what I was in for when I decided to move, so now I'm here, I really do understand why everyone considered my decision to move as bravery.
It was pretty brave and I'm having to be strong everyday to try and overcome the overwhelming feelings of loneliness and homesickness.
I love my course, I love my house. But sometimes I wonder if I should have considered that I love my friends, my family and my old life even more. There are definitely times where I've regretted the decision to move. It's gotten easier with each passing day though!
The one thing I will never get used to, and thank god for that, is the way people speak here. The constant usage of the, I'm not going to say it's a word because that would offend the english language, but the term 'yous' and how most people say 'everythingk' and 'somethingk' - please learn how to talk properly.
Beaten Women Syndrome and Production lines of Emotional Processes
I know it sounds terrible, but it really bothers me when I read, hear or see people with worse lives than me.
The reason I say this at this point in time is because I just watched a documentary about the exploitation of children in the USA into commercial sex trade i.e prostitution through pimps - called 'Very Young Girls'
The reason I say this at this point in time is because I just watched a documentary about the exploitation of children in the USA into commercial sex trade i.e prostitution through pimps - called 'Very Young Girls'
As unbelievable as it may seem, there's lots of my life that I haven't actually posted about. Of course, I didn't have a pimp who sold me on the streets, but there's some things that I will probably never post on this blog. However; in context. I look at peoples' lives in documentaries like 'Bully' and books like 'broken' by Shy Keenan and I just can't help but wish I had experienced more than I have. I think, without sounding a certain way in terms of self pity, it's not hard to notice that there have been plenty of things in my life that no one should have to go through let alone a child. But now I'm over it/not in it any more, I kind of want it back.
I think I feel this way because I wish I had something to justify the way I feel now. What I mean by that, is that sometimes I feel like because I have made it through everything and I have a pretty good life right now, I don't really have a right to complain or a right to feel sad.
Not only do I wish my life was still terrible and/or I could go back to 2007 emotions because I want justification of my feelings, but I also miss that life. The only way I can think of explaining it is the 'beaten woman syndrome' - When woman who are beaten by their husbands/boyfriends still go back to them despite the abuse. I don't know why woman want to go back and I don't know why I want to either. I know it's a ridiculous thing to say, because I seem to have what so many people are looking for; which is a good present life.
I can't pinpoint why I miss the feelings of depression, why I miss the self harm and suicide idealisations/attempts or why I crave the emotions I experienced back when it was really bad. I feel like the way people treat us on the journey from our most critical, sensitive time as the wounds are fresh and we're just starting our pursuit of happiness to the point where we actually achieve a sense of contentment is similar to that of a production line (and yes, I mean the type in a factory). It's almost as though, once you get to the stage of the journey that I am now seen to be at, no one really cares anymore. In the beginning, when people first meet you at your lowest point, they're there for you, always wanting to help you and talk through your problems with you. Then; once you're happy/'fixed'/better, they leave, going on to the next person/product. But it's like they're not there when the person/product becomes faulty. I know that sounds stupid. Comparing the road to happiness through the support of others to a production line, but in 'long story-short terms', all I'm saying is that people don't care about you once you recover.
Maybe I wish my life had been worse, or was currently worse because I want the feeling of being loved and cared about by people back. I don't entirely think it can be classified as 'sympathy seeking' but rather missing the treatment people gave me when they knew how awful my life was and how messed up I was from it. Or maybe I just wish my life had been worse, or was currently worse because I'm fucked in the head.
I look at these children and these teenagers and these women who have their lives spread all over a documentary book/TV show/website and I know their lives are so much worse than mine, whether it be currently or previously and I find it hard to not be repressed back into the feelings of wanting to go back to the critical points in life, where I had to deal with wanting to die everyday and wondering when I can get my next hit or my next experience.
It's almost like we wan't what we don't have. I'm happy, I want sad. I was sad, I wanted happy.
Worst Rollercoaster Ever
I'm not usually one to complain; just kidding, I complain all the time but it feels like the past few months have been a mixture of hell and happiness. I usually despise people who, only one month into the year, make a prediction on how the rest of the year is going to be according to how good or bad January has been. However; right now, it's all I seem to be doing. Ever since leaving school, I've been riding one of the most intense and crazy emotional roller coasters possible.
Honestly, even just sitting here trying to work out how to write it makes me emotional because it has been one of the most overwhelming periods of time in a very very long time.
So I finished school about mid November, 2 weeks after turning 18 and getting my drivers license. Quickly left for schoolies in Bali. It was seriously amazing. One of the top ten experiences in my life. Shortly after returning, we received our ATARs, which to put simply, was truly a horrible experience. On Christmas Eve, the car I had been driving was suddenly taken away from me because my older step sister needed a car and as the car was her mums, it was given to her. Then, I went camping over NYE and it was incredible. So much fun, words cannot describe it. After coming home from that and just have a couple of weeks to hang out and see friends, drive up to Sydney with my dad and back, life was looking up. In the meantime, I had found a place in Bundoora to move into, as La Trobe was the university I was sure I was going to get into because the course I had chosen was 10 points under my ATAR. I had also arranged a transfer with work.
Then, uni preferences came out and I got into Deakin which is in Burwood. So I no longer had a place to live or a job to move to.
So, all this happened. This continuance of something going wrong and then me having to make a back up plan and then that going wrong to. In addition to all this, I don't know if anyone has experienced it but having your license, a social life and no car is possibly one of the hardest, most emotionally frustrating things in the world.
Anyway, about two weeks ago, I got kicked out of home because of my rude as fuck step mum always getting her way. Tonight was the first night I had spent with them for my older step brothers birthday since being kicked out. My step brother also got his car today, which he paid for with inheritance (where as I had to work for my money for my car and the only reason I don't have one is because no one is around to help me find one and everyone I've looked at has been awful) and his dad picked the car out for him. Ontop of this, he has had his license for a month less than me, failed 4 times and since having his license, already swerved the car onto the other side of the road on a freeway and crashed a car.
So that really set me off tonight as everybody was 'wow-ing' over his new car and how perfect it was and my step sister driving off in the car that I deserved.
There is so much more to the story but I think this is adequate for now
I don't really know what to say. Sorry I've been slack with posting, it's just been a really intense few months. I just wanted to fill errybody in. So whatever.
Honestly, even just sitting here trying to work out how to write it makes me emotional because it has been one of the most overwhelming periods of time in a very very long time.
So I finished school about mid November, 2 weeks after turning 18 and getting my drivers license. Quickly left for schoolies in Bali. It was seriously amazing. One of the top ten experiences in my life. Shortly after returning, we received our ATARs, which to put simply, was truly a horrible experience. On Christmas Eve, the car I had been driving was suddenly taken away from me because my older step sister needed a car and as the car was her mums, it was given to her. Then, I went camping over NYE and it was incredible. So much fun, words cannot describe it. After coming home from that and just have a couple of weeks to hang out and see friends, drive up to Sydney with my dad and back, life was looking up. In the meantime, I had found a place in Bundoora to move into, as La Trobe was the university I was sure I was going to get into because the course I had chosen was 10 points under my ATAR. I had also arranged a transfer with work.
Then, uni preferences came out and I got into Deakin which is in Burwood. So I no longer had a place to live or a job to move to.
So, all this happened. This continuance of something going wrong and then me having to make a back up plan and then that going wrong to. In addition to all this, I don't know if anyone has experienced it but having your license, a social life and no car is possibly one of the hardest, most emotionally frustrating things in the world.
Anyway, about two weeks ago, I got kicked out of home because of my rude as fuck step mum always getting her way. Tonight was the first night I had spent with them for my older step brothers birthday since being kicked out. My step brother also got his car today, which he paid for with inheritance (where as I had to work for my money for my car and the only reason I don't have one is because no one is around to help me find one and everyone I've looked at has been awful) and his dad picked the car out for him. Ontop of this, he has had his license for a month less than me, failed 4 times and since having his license, already swerved the car onto the other side of the road on a freeway and crashed a car.
So that really set me off tonight as everybody was 'wow-ing' over his new car and how perfect it was and my step sister driving off in the car that I deserved.
There is so much more to the story but I think this is adequate for now
I don't really know what to say. Sorry I've been slack with posting, it's just been a really intense few months. I just wanted to fill errybody in. So whatever.
ATAR? More like fuckya
I don't even know what to write right now! I'm genuinely at a loss for words.
I get it guys 'your ATAR isn't the end of the world' but I genuinely feel like I'm going through the stages of grief right now. Like I've lost my ten year plan!
Stage one - denial. This involved avoiding the fact that I got a shit result for two hours
Stage two - concern. This consisted on not being able to stop thinking about ho w this is going to affect my life
Step three - severe depression. I'm about twenty minutes away from this
I haven't slept, haven't eaten and feel sicker than I ever have. My head feels like there's a helicopter inside it and I haven't been able to stop crying for longer than twenty minutes. I've been chain smoking my lungs away and can't even tell my dad my score because I never ever want to see his face display disappointment. I texted him when I found out and was curled up in a ball sulking saying 'you're going to hate me. I hate myself'
My english result was nowhere near what I expected and there was not one 'A' for any subject. I understand it- 'you only get what you work for' but I thought I worked harder than this. It's like, I tried so hard to turn my life around and stay in school. And then I get this. It's not even enough to get into the pathway course of just nursing. Anywhere. Unless I want to move to Sheparton where I will die before I hit second year.
I don't even know. I guess it's time to hit the vodka and never stop.
I can't even stop this, I didn't think it was possible to get so low.
I never expected this. Not once did it cross my mind that I would get below 70.
I don't even know what to do.
I guess I seem like I'm over reacting but I'm legitimately in the most overwhelmed state right now. And not in a good way.
Sorry, you probably don't want to hear all this. You probably don't care.
Hopefully I can become anorexic because Obvs don't have the brains so now I need the beauty.
W@T I$ L¥F?
I get it guys 'your ATAR isn't the end of the world' but I genuinely feel like I'm going through the stages of grief right now. Like I've lost my ten year plan!
Stage one - denial. This involved avoiding the fact that I got a shit result for two hours
Stage two - concern. This consisted on not being able to stop thinking about ho w this is going to affect my life
Step three - severe depression. I'm about twenty minutes away from this
I haven't slept, haven't eaten and feel sicker than I ever have. My head feels like there's a helicopter inside it and I haven't been able to stop crying for longer than twenty minutes. I've been chain smoking my lungs away and can't even tell my dad my score because I never ever want to see his face display disappointment. I texted him when I found out and was curled up in a ball sulking saying 'you're going to hate me. I hate myself'
My english result was nowhere near what I expected and there was not one 'A' for any subject. I understand it- 'you only get what you work for' but I thought I worked harder than this. It's like, I tried so hard to turn my life around and stay in school. And then I get this. It's not even enough to get into the pathway course of just nursing. Anywhere. Unless I want to move to Sheparton where I will die before I hit second year.
I don't even know. I guess it's time to hit the vodka and never stop.
I can't even stop this, I didn't think it was possible to get so low.
I never expected this. Not once did it cross my mind that I would get below 70.
I don't even know what to do.
I guess I seem like I'm over reacting but I'm legitimately in the most overwhelmed state right now. And not in a good way.
Sorry, you probably don't want to hear all this. You probably don't care.
Hopefully I can become anorexic because Obvs don't have the brains so now I need the beauty.
W@T I$ L¥F?
Sonder
This has always been something that has played on my mind. Okay, not always but at least since I was 14.
I remember asking my friends 'do you guys ever walk home or sit in the car with your parents and watch the people go by and think 'I will never see you again' or 'you could die tonight'?' and their response was 'no, that's just weird'
I always carefully studied those driving past in the quick 2 second I had and gave them all individual back stories.
'This woman has 3 children under 10 and works in real estate. She is driving her luxurious Audi back to Beaumaris to relieve her nanny and put her children to bed whilst her husband is interstate working'
'This man just lost his father to a sudden illness. He has no children, no wife and now, no family!'
'This P plater is hot. However, he doesn't know it and is now going home to avoid all mirrors because his self-esteem is in the ground'
Yet, it was never their back story that intrigued me. It was their future. Where they were going now and later. Whether they would live through the night or be the tragic news headline stating '3 dead in car crash'. Whether they're happy or sad. If they ever felt the emotions I felt. If they were rich or poor. Had children and a spouse.
It's hard to comprehend that we are merely one person amongst 7 billion others. It's scary aswell. To think that we will never meet, see or know the majority of them. That people are going about their day, perhaps seeing us drive by in a quick instant or getting a chance to know us, or even never being aware of our existence.
Oh life, it's so cloudy.
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