Lockout.

I've never really liked blogspot.
If you know my LJ and are actually that interested in my nosensical rantings, then navigate yourself over there.
If you don't know it, chances are I don't want you reading it anyways.

Don't speak a word, just keep quiet, keep still.

It's a different kind of heartbreak; but you've never had to deal with it. Everyone loves you, you're the golden girl and she's so desperate to be your friend.
You? Maybe you're desperate for the false love she emits or maybe you just latch on to someone the moment they pay you attention. Maybe I'm reading the rights all wrong. But I have to tell myself that I can't always be as wrong as you think I am.
But you'll never notice. You'll never see that you are the one who's twisting the dagger in my heart and you'll never realize that I'm crying because of you, not to you.
You'll never realize that it cut me deeper than any "fuck you" or "you were used" or "I love you" when you flippantly showed off what you had left me out of even though it was our tradition. Even though it was almost expected.
She'll love it though. She will throw it in my face and it's her one more fuck you thrown in my face. Okay.
I GIVE. YOU FUCKING WIN AND I LOSE. OKAY?
Happy yet? No, I didn't think so.
You'll read this and think that maybe it's about you but you'll brush it off, because you're perfect and can do no wrong.
Chances are you won't read this at all.
Oh well. It doesn't matter. I'll never say a word because I'm a coward.

When you're gone.

"Your university friends know who you are- but your high school friends know why."

Is it terrible that lately I've been wishing that weren't the case? A very smart person said to me that they wouldn't figure me for having the friends that I do, based on a first impression.
I'm not sure how I feel about that. Part of me really wants to know who he thinks I should or would be friends with. I wonder if he meant it in a positive or negative way. Mostly though I'm wondering why he hasn't talked to me all day and I wonder if he knows.
How many of you know?
How many times have I kept a deadly secret?

I wonder if he'd care if my wrists were gaping and torn. If I were fifty pounds heavier. If I had short hair. If I had brown eyes. If I drove a motorcycle, if I were blonde, if I were younger, if I were clingy, if I watched soap operas, if I loved chocolate. If I worked at a gas station, if I lived in a fourplex, if I hunted foxes, rode merry go rounds and watched Mary Poppins obsessively.

Would it change anydamnthing?

DONE.

Ever woken up and been disappointed that you did?
Hated yourself so much that you write down lists of why you don't deserve it?
Stood in front of the mirror and outlined every single thing that's wrong with you?
And ran it through your head over and over again until it stops being words and becomes truth?
Ever indulged in a vice- drinks, sex, playing with knives, whatever- because at least for that moment you aren't thinking about what a goddamn fuckup you are?

I don't really know when it started but it did. I'm tangled up in a love that will destroy me, I've spent so long afraid of my mother and she's following me, her voice echoing in my head- "Fat. Fuck up. Disgusting. Might as well be a hooker because there's not much else you're good for." , I don't understand it but I don't like it and at the same time I do. Sometimes I think that I'm exactly where I want to be, and sometimes... I'm just so sick.

I disgust myself.

And probably most of you. I know I haven't exactly been... around. Trustworthy. A good friend. Present, physically or emotionally. I know that I've changed. I used to tell myself that when people told me I'd changed it was because I'd stopped living the way they did. But it doesn't always mean a positive change. And I think it's clear that I always run away.

But it hurts me like hell that you all would think that I would say to someone's face that they looked like a man or had acne. It hurts. Because I would never. Never. Never. It doesn't matter if I was too drunk to breathe or stoned or fucking or ANYTHING. I WOULD NEVER DO THAT.

"It's definitely changed the dynamics now that you're gone, but at least it gives everyone something to gossip about."

That's fine. I can't say that I'm angry because it would't be justified. I can't say that I'm hurt because I don't think that my body has the capacity to hurt any more. I can't even say that I want to fix anything. All I can do is admit quiet defeat.

I'm tired. You guys, I'm so tired of faking it, I'm so tired of trying, I'm so tired of pretending that I love where I am or love, well, anything. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that there's no such thing as unconditional love.
I can't say that I'm happy. My family is torn to pieces and shouldn't a family be an anchor?

I sat up last night with my heartbroken father from three in the morning until seven, comforting a devestated grown man, watching him drink beer after beer and listening to him pour his heart out. Finally I made him a cup of tea and convinced him that he needed to go to bed.

AND I CAN'T FIX IT. I can't control it. I can't even make any of it okay anymore. I can't make my mother sane and I can't make my father happy. Christ, I can't make myself happy.

Maybe I should just cut my losses and give the fuck up.

I'm just so tired.

Some guy wrote this and I thought it was worth reposting.

Dear Girls (from us guys)...
Don't assume that guys won't care where you are, because we do.
It makes us feel secure to know that our girlfriends aren't off flirting with guys we've never heard of.
Also, don't talk about your ex-boyfriends.
We never have, nor ever will respect or like them, nor do we want to hear about them.
When you do, you're asking your boyfriend to be jealous.
You're asking your boyfriend to lose trust.
On that, don't hump everything that walks into the room.
We don't care if you talk to other guys.
We don't care if you're friends with other guys.
But when you're sitting next to us, and some random guy walks into the room and you jump up and tackle him, without even introducing us, yeah, it pisses us off.
It doesn't help if you sit there and talk to him for ten minutes without even acknowledging the fact that we're still there.
Also, when we tell you you're pretty/ beautiful/ gorgeous/ cute/ stunning, we freaking mean it.
Don't tell us we're wrong.
We'll stop trying to convince you.
The sexiest thing about a girl is confidence.
Yeah, you can quote me.
Don't be mad when we hold the door open.
Smile and say "thank you."
Let us pay for you.
Don't "feel bad."
We enjoy doing it.
It's expected.
Smile and say - everybody together now - "thank you."
Kiss us when no one's watching.
If you kiss us when you know nobody's looking we'll be more impressed.
You don't have to get dressed up for us.
If we're going out with you in the first place, you don't have to feel the need to wear the shortest skirt you have, put on every kind of makeup you own.
We like you for WHO you are and not WHAT you are.
Don't flirt with guys when we're not around.
We'll find out. Trust us.
We have eyes everywhere.
And when we find out, we're pissed.
Not necessarily with the guys you flirted with, more-so with you.
Don't take everything we say seriously.
Sarcasm is a beautiful thing. See the beauty in it.
Don't get angry easily.
Stop using magazines/media as your bible.
Don't talk about how hot Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt is in front of us.
It's boring, and we don't care.
You have girlfriends for that.
Whatever happened to the word "handsome"?
Why does everything have to be "hot/sexy"?
I'd be utterly stunned by a girl who greeted me with "Hey handsome!" instead of "Hey baby/ stud/ cutie/ sexy" or whatever else you can think of.
Claiming girls or guys to be "hot" shows immaturity.
Girls, I cannot stress this enough: if you aren't being treated right by a guy, don't wait for him to change.
Ditch his sorry, disgrace-to-the-male-popul
ation ass, and find someone who will treat you with utter respect.
Someone who will honor your morals.
Someone who will make you smile when you're at your lowest.

"doomed to marry someone i hate"

I was reading a bunch of things about how people have the lives they've always dreamed of, a job they love, a husband that they're madly in love with and the normal things that everyone else wants.
And then I started to think. Because, really? I highly doubt that I'm going to be that person. I'll either be the girl who marries someone for money, for looks, for prestige, or convenience. Because it sure as hell won't be because someone meets me, gets to know me and still loves me. That's okay, I could be a trophy wife, I could be a workaholic. But I'm doomed to marry someone I barely care about. It's honestly fine with me though. Because he won't care either. Huh, sounds like a lot of my relationships.
I should be more upset about this, shouldn't I?

Get in the car and drive.

Sometimes when things are so wrong you just have to withdraw from everything, right? So I've kind of taken a raincheck on life, and so far it hasn't done me any wrong.
There's been a few bandaid fixes and I know it's superficial but I don't mind. In fact, I like it. Because hearing someone say, "Where've you been? I've been calling you. You didn't even get to hear my stories about Reading Week, so sit down and listen- oh, and by the way, don't disappear like that on us again," is kind of reassuring almost. Like I've made some kind of impact even if it's for the wrong reasons.
I guess I've always just been terrified of being forgotten by the world. And in my desperation to be remembered I'll do anything.
So there are these rum & Coke infused nights where I only remember half of what happens. The thing is, everyone says that it's wrong. But it doesn't bother me.
Lately I've been realizing that I'm pretty sure I'm not cut out for university. I love the social aspect of it but the rest of it is responsibility and expectations that I don't feel like dealing with. I realize that this sounds immature. I really do.
But I'm immature.
Going from highschool to university doesn't automatically mean you grow up.
I just want to get in a car, pick a direction and drive forever. Somehow build a life wherever I end up.

askfdaksddfsdk;adlfjha;

I guess it was bound to happen.
The sudden awkward silence when I show up. The obvious looks traded across the tables.
I mean, I deserve everything I'm getting.
But I don't think that I can go back from this one. I tried to talk about it and I got blown off. So what's the point?
I've already given up on school, we all know I wasn't cut out for it anyways. Sorry I'm not ambitious like the rest of you.
I've given up on the idea of family.
I've given up on the idea that I can fix myself and change my fuckups, although I guess it took everyone else a lot less time to recognize my true potential as a failure.
I don't really feel sorry for myself, more like... I should be more upset about everything, but I'm not. I'm just this weird version of numb that doesn't entirely make sense but, you know, does in my mind.
And what you think is important; but it becomes the most important when you realize that what you think is the only thing you'll get. Because no one else thinks about you.

It's okay. I've accepted it. I like being alone, anyways. I'll fail out of the semester, I'll get a third job, I'll just breeze through life the way I always have, and things will be okay.

It's okay, I made myself a promise. Too bad I'm known for breaking them.