what am I doing wrong?

I'm lonely. There you go, it's a nice, cold, hard fact. I'm emo and homesick and tired and moody and evasive all the time now because this loneliness is growing and growing and it's eating me up and I can't stand it any more than I already have. I can't tell if I'm lonely because I have self esteem issues and feel as though no one could love such a person, or because I'm (ironically, in the opposite direction) an arrogant being who looks upon humankind as a whole as a flaw beyond help?

Perhaps I'm just over-thinking everything as a self-defense mechanism because I need to drown out the nasty voices in my head. I need to not hear the truth, whispered to me in my own mental voice, that I am just a really nasty person who will never let enough of herself be known to anyone to feel wholly accepted. I have beautiful friends who care, who want to know the reason behind my mood swings. But I don't want to tell them, I don't want to release into the world any more filth than already exists in it. All these negative thoughts should stay locked up in my mind, where at least they would damage only me.

I just don't think I could be poisonous enough to let anyone in on this unhappiness, especially not when so many of the people who care seem so happy. When someone is that happy, and that happiness is so well-deserved and so overdue, you can't honestly expect me to tell them that their happiness makes me feel lonelier than ever. That the happier they get, the further I feel my world is from theirs. That I am tired and miserable and terribly jealous of them. That I can't help the bitterness even if it disgusts me more than it would them.

And then I switch perspectives again and consider a different possibility. Could it be that I am not, after all, a vile creature who casts a pall on a friend's joy? Maybe - maybe I'm being too arrogant in assuming that my black vibes would even remotely affect that friend's happiness. Maybe I'm too nice, too careful, too conscious. Maybe I'm being a fool and keeping everything to myself when all I need is to open up and stop assuming things. Maybe I need to stop trying so hard to make something change when all I need to do is let things flow as they should. Not to strive for light or dark, but to get comfortable with the grey area and just - chill.

Mother of god, what do you do when someone suddenly tells you the most intense life story you've ever heard?

Especially since all I thought they were going to say was, "Oh, it's a silly nickname that stuck..."

To be perfectly honest,

I don't like waiting all night for someone to come online. I hate it even more when someone comes online for five minutes, then disappears. And I wait for two hours, and see that "online" sign pop up just to find that it disappears in another five minutes. Damn it, if you tell me you want to talk then just bloody stay online. Stop being so damned impatient and hopping off into another world just because I can't type fast enough to reply in ten seconds. I know you're bred kiasu and can't bear wasting your precious time but for god's sake, just bloody give me thirty seconds if you need to talk. Otherwise please don't rob me of my sleep. It's so damned annoying.

Kthxbye.

Me and my words.

I typed out a long rant yesterday about something that has since become insignificant. Or rather, I have since realized its insignificance.

I was about to post it on my blog from my mobile, but just then a call came in and I accidentally deleted the entire thing. My initial reaction was, of course, complete outrage at myself for the amount of effort gone down the drain. But I couldn't summon the energy or the feeling to write it up again, so it didn't get posted in the end. I'm that kind of person; when I write, I follow the flow of my emotions (usually ending in melancholy) and by the time I've finished the final paragraph, I've released all my emotions in the words and I no longer feel the same as when I wrote the first lines. My emotional state vacillates a lot. I get influenced a little too easily.

So you can imagine that when I thought back about what I had written, I suddenly felt glad that I hadn't posted it after all. It was quite pathetic, on hindsight - the whole thing reeked of petulant whining and melodrama. When I think back on it, it was a shallow, thoughtless rant that came to no conclusions and sounded like a thirteen-year-old's desperate attempt to draw attention to the heinous drama in their life. In a way, it was a manipulative bitch of a rant, taking ordinary truth and phrasing it in ways that tried to hint tantalizingly at something serious and interesting. The equivalent, forgive me, of a young teenager posting statuses on Facebook about heartbreak and love when you know for a fact that they have never even experienced either. Not quite the same, but equally foolish.

I've thought up a theory that I should test. The next time I feel worked up about something and decide to rant about it on my blog or journal... When I finish the piece, I should always hit Save Draft first. If I still feel the same way a day later, I'll publish the post.

I am not always easygoing, or reasonable, or open-minded. But I try very hard to be.

-.

You'll need to click on it for the full size version.

*edit!*
60 notes on tumblr? That's like a personal high score for original content! :D And to think I nearly decided against uploading it...

-.

I don't know what the future will be like. That's fine, because no one does.

I don't know what I want my future to be like. That scares me more than anything else right now, even more than the upcoming exams.

When did I change? Was it gradual, or did it happen in one cataclysmic moment? I used to dream of doing what I loved for a living. I used to believe I had a little talent. I used to have potential. I used to picture myself working hard but enjoying myself because I loved my work. Why, then, do I suddenly stop functioning on autopilot - after a year and a half - and look back to realise that I might have made a big mistake?

I am so, so very terrified right now.

I love this guy:

A list of books I have yet to read (and the reasons why)

I used to be the type of reader who couldn't put a book down, at least not for breaks more than an hour long. It wasn't because I wad such a devoted, avid reader or something impressive like that. It was simply that I have a pretty bad attention span, so if I spent too long away from the story I felt detached and it would be such a bother to get immersed again. And that also explains why I get really grumpy if I'm approached during or immediately after a story. My reaction tends to be something along the lines of, "Go away, I'm not back on your planet just yet."

But in the last two years I've grown a rather large pile of half-read and unread books, much to my displeasure. And yet I haven't done much about it, if only because I keep finding other crap to do. Maybe college caused it. It is after all a lot more difficult to crack open a storybook in the middle of a lecture than to do so in a big, noisy school classroom. So let's take a quick stock-check of the abandoned books lying around me!

1. Sense and Sensibility - I'm only halfway through this, but I don't feel motivated to finish it because I don't like any of the characters.
2. Nation - A present from last year that I meant to read immediately... but somehow it's still in the gift wrapping.
3. The Splendour Falls - Progress came to a grinding halt when the characters also proved unlikeable. I'm such a snob.
4. The World is Flat - It's non-fiction. Of course I can't finish it quickly.
5. My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me - Because it's an anthology, the stories are discontinuous and as such can be digested in little bits.
6. The Folklore of Discworld - This is another book that I am ashamed of abandoning. But again, the discontinuity made it happen...
7. Fallen - Rather annoying characters and concept. As though vampires and werewolves weren't supernatural and mysterious enough, this one turns out to be about an angel. An angel, for heaven's sake. (Yes, I totally did make that shameful pun.)

I have others, but... :/
Not too sure if naming the rest is a good idea.
Besides, I've mentioned all but four. You get the point.

I HAVE TO READ THOSE AS SOON AS THE EXAMS END OR THE SILVERFISH WILL GET TO THEM FIRST. (´Д` )

A short list of reasons why my nineteenth birthday was one of the best that I can remember:

We shall go about it in chronological order, yes?

1. Receiving one birthday text in particular that made me wonder what I ever did to deserve such love - and whether I'm so predictable that the sender could guess what the right thing to say was.

2. Balancing the first question on the accounts paper on the first try - something I'd NEVER done until now. (I'll ignore the epic failness of the rest of the paper though.)

3. A very short maths lesson.

4. Seeing pink in the library.

5. Going on a shopping spree... at the most awesome stationery shop this nation has ever seen.

6. Overtime over dessert, ridiculous photos and absurd conversation.

7. Mexican kilts and Nigerian waterfalls.

8. Coming home and finding out that Kame had been on Shonen Club, with a brilliant performance. Would it be too OOC for me to say I find the performance just a tad more special because it was aired on my birthday?

9. Checking my mail - and sure enough, the recording of Kame's Friday night radio show was up on YouTube!

10. Experimenting with the glitter powder bought from said stationer's... and getting rather pleasing results. See how it catches the light?

11. Finally placing my order for White!

On the whole, I think the ratio of ups to downs was very good. :) Thank you, to those of you who recognise yourselves in this!

elaborations will follow

...when I find the right words.

1582

The most hypnotic song on my current playlist.