My blog is the shit. I have 2 thousand something visitors and I have no idea where they come from. My blog may be the shit, but my life isn't.

What grabs me by the neck and suffocates me is that everyone else is having fun, be it mugging, boyfriends or girlfriend, doing stuff ... and I am not. I'm like the chicken shit, the lowest of lowest, a pile of dung, rubbish and crap, then me. Everyone is so busy getting involved in something.

I think this is the cue to save money and travel to London, all by myself. I'm the lonely nomad, but at least there I hope I can meet James. He's my only hope to having fun now.

--

HAHA NOW I KNOW WHAT GERRY DOES AT 3 AM IN THE MORNING FOR 72 SECONDS.

Labels: depressing, gerard butler, travelling

Phantom by ~silenceana on deviantART

I'm done, i'm done, i'm done! But you've got to be crazy to think I'm happy with it.

Labels: drawing, phantom of the opera

I felt so nostalgic so I decided to look through the Cedar yearbooks. I felt sick after that. Sick with longing, sick with love. Alas, I realised that I've grown up. I wish I was there. As relived as I felt to have graduate, I wish I could go back. I wish I could see my favourite Physics teacher, I wish I could have the scent of the school office and the dusty conrol room, I wish I still wore my uniform.

When I feel terribly attached to something and the sense of hopelessness creeps in, I get sick. My breath becomes heavy, I'm close to having a panic attack. And then I would have to calm myself down, try to breathe, try to grow up.

And god damn it, I WAS FUCKING PRETTY IN SEC 4.

My sec 2 life was the best, having the best friend, and dancing in NDP, seeing Peter Gn. Secondary 3 was spectacular - I was very good in Physics, and I found new friends. Secondary 4 was .. meh. But I was fucking pretty in May, so I don't care. It's my motivation now- to look that good.

I really want to visit Cedar since it'll be the LAST year it'll look the same since I graduated. But I don't have many friends there, and they're all so busy with school and stuff. I don't think I could ever go back aloneee. I really really really want to go back to Cedarrrrr! *coughs* READ THIS TIARA *coughs*

I'm going to scan my pictures hahahahaha. Just to prove to you I was pretty. LOL.

I actually regretted hating my Cedar years so violently. But I was too depressed at that time, I wasn't thinking properly. I wish I actually dressed up better for Prom Night, kept to my weight, never cut my hair the day before graduation day. Damn you fucking mental illness. I would've been as happy as my friends back then.

Most of all, I fucking miss SYFC!

Labels: cedar, depressing, school

I HAVE ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER'S EYEBROWS AND IT'S NOT FUNNY WHEN YOU'RE THE ONE BORN WITH THOSE EYEBROWS!

God is fair. I have big eyes (bet you haven't seen them, as they're hiding behind my glasses for years) , I have thick lips that people would inject botox for, I have red carpet hair, I have Gorgo's tits. Haha, let's look at what I don't have. I'm not thin, I have andrew lloyd webber's eyebrows, and I have wicked imagination.

-

Aha, Americans are so erotic. You can pretend to be grating their dicks with cheese graters and they get horny as hell.


How well can you take innocent flirting? Okay, well not innocent. Hardly.

I don't feel offended if someone comes online and asks me if my ass is big or my boobs are firm. Playing along is so much fun. It's all about lying, deceiving and imagination. Older men can be so much sexier.

But then again you'd never know if they could be like an apek, while you're giving him the impression you're some hot latino babe with Jlo's ass.

Oh, I deserve to be spanked.

Labels: conniving

I have been outcasted. I have a feeling my friends are against me. Why, was bulimia such a hard thing to deal with?


1001 page views on my Deviantart. It's a miracle, hitting 4 digits. I've been waiting for that to happen for 3 years and 21 days. This means I've got to draw faster. I guess my Barry Drawing is going to be in the Pencil Artists journal, so I've got to make my gallery as appetising as possible.


My god, on other matters, I am depressed. I made a pizza today. Because I was sad. When I'm sad I cook. But the pizza had a mix of sour, sweet and salty. Salt for my tears, sour is my heart, sweet are the memories swirling in my head.

'For either way you choose you cannot win!'

Labels: depressing, deviantart

Meh, whatever.

I think I'm going to fall asleep in school today. God, I hate school.

Labels: school

I know the saying, 'You are what you eat.' That is why people associate fat people with laziness and gluttonous and greediness.

I know, I am fat. But I was never lazy, and I never liked food. I was never fat to start of with. I was born a little chubby, but I lost the weight when I started going to preschool. My mother recalled me asking for slimming pills as a child. I never ate much anyway. Because I was the 'thin' one. In my mind I had to keep up with being thin, so I couldn't let myself step over that line. Whatever people ate, I ate only half the portion. It started when I turned 8, and I found parts of my body that was revolting like my stomach and my thighs. Things were cloudy then, I thought I was fat. But when I see the pictures now, I was like a skeleton. When you have no confidence, your self-esteem just becomes non-existent, and I went on like that until I entered secondary school.

I only got overweight when I was in secondary 2. Haha my classmates couldn't believe it when I got into TAF. Even people in TAF said I shouldn't be there. For me, going into TAF was rock bottom for me. I felt like I've let myself down, and had to embrace the fact that I was FAT for real. I worked really really hard to get out, and I was consumed by the world's obsession with weight. I remembered my mother commenting about my fat ass. My mum always took slimming pills. She's always saying how light she is. So that was when it happened.

I battled with bulimia. And this is the first time I've publicly declared this. But for me to make this real for myself, and for me to face recovery, I can't keep secrets about my past. I suffered with self-abuse.

Bulimia took its toll on me in secondary 3. I purge 3-5 times a day, I vomited out blood. Even during fasting month I would purge after breaking my fast. It was easy. The weight came off, and by the end of a month of fasting, I've lost 7 kilos. It was a vicious cycle of disgusting binges, purging, cutting, and exercise. That was my life. And that was all I knew. I battled with myself, and with god. How could he not make it easier for me, why did I have to purge out food to look like other girls?

I got dengue in sec 4, while I suffered with an eating disorder. But I thought it was great because my appetite was gone, I didn't eat anything for 2 weeks, besides the IV drip. I couldn't puke in the hospital. The disease weakened me physically, but inside I felt immense power. I felt powerful and in control. I didn’t have to eat. The doctors had to rush into my room in the night because my blood pressure was too low. But I didn't have to eat. It was empowerment. It was like defying god, and human capability.

When I was discharged I didn't have any appetite, and I still didn't want to eat that much. I was small. I looked sick. I was at my lowest weight. But I loved it. That was the first time I felt beautiful. But hell, it was tiring. I was tired all the time. You know, it was hard to breathe. It was tiring not to eat. And going home only to lock myself up in my room so I would not be in the kitchen. And to sleep with an empty stomach, waking up, looking at my wrists, looking at my ribs. It took so much of me. All I could do was weep, feel tired, waiting for it all to end.

And I had this big argument with my mother. She had gone through my things, she screamed at me, and she said she knew what I was doing. Then I screamed, cried, and had a panic attack. She had no compassion, her eyes were black and cold. It was as if she had sent me to my death.

It's a long story, about how I'm here finally. I've attempted suicide, and everything. One day I said, that's it. Slowly I stopped purging, but instead I over ate. I wanted to 'recover' and make it real. I created this wall of fat to protect me. Because I wasn't self-harming anymore, I channelled my pain and anger somewhere else. What you see now, is the product of a mad man. It wasn't because I was lazy to exercise. I didn't think I was worth it. I was destined to be fat, because that's what I really am. And the shame I felt for letting myself go. For a while, I hid myself at home and from the sun. I didn't 'recover', as I had thought. I just changed the fucking situation. No one wanted to hear me and I was alone. I felt like a failed experiment, and an object. An object that deserved food to be shoved in, like a rubbish chute. Because that was what I was. I was rubbish, I was crap, and I was a thing. This layer of fat is a barrier and to hide my ugliness.

What depresses me the most is that I'm still here. I haven't moved on. I haven't got an inch of self-esteem in me. I'm so frightened to take that step, and run under the sun, in full view of people. People would just go, 'what is this fat girl losing weight for? Hah, you are not worth the effort.' You know? Things like that. I've been battling my whole life alone. Now I have to try this alone. It's not that I want to be, but circumstances forces me to. I still want to die. I still need to weep for myself. I'm only one inch away from abusing myself. It's up to me to take that step. But how can I if I don't even believe it's possible?

Labels: depressing, dirt, fat

I wrote down a pretty random thing. I wrote a song. I don't write songs, but today I guess I did. It's just random words filling in. I love how I'm always selfish in my writing, and how stupid things can be. It's funny, I kind of like it.


'King of Thermodynamics'

I really like your height
Your stupid hands
I like your shirt
I hate your study plans

The rest of the 'song' lies here.

Labels: song, stupid obsessions

Enough. Enough now.

It's not worth it. Super LOVE CRUSH DROOL DEATH is fucking dead to me.


I reached home at nine-thirty last night, after the exhausting accounting class. I was so tired and my eyes were all droopy after talking a cold shower. I decided not to succumb to sleep. So instead I thought, why not watch 'Live at Abbey Road' ? Damn, the teevee listing. Damien Rice was playing! He played 9 crimes, Rootless Tree, and Volcano. Rice didn't talk a lot, and he said, "In my last conversation with Lisa she said 'People don't talk anymore. They're always talking about themselves.' So I'm not going to say anything." Rice writes the band's lyrics, so in his songs we get a touch of Damien. The dark, brooding music that is meant to be listened to alone, and how each song doesn't stray from the others, always bearing the similar tune, the similar mood. His words that carry a slight mock, and wittiness, and charm.

Just that it's sad that Lisa Hannigen has left the band this March. Her voice is so haunting and chilling, I'm going to miss listening to her. Well you know, if Rice ever wants a new vocalist, I would be willing to quit school and try out. I know most of the lyrics of every Rice's song. I just love his music, and I love his band. I love his beard and his nose, I love his shortness.

His music is depressing, but it lets me connect to the deeper part of my soul. It's like food for my soul. If I go on without it for too long, my eyes would be vacant. I wish there was something more. I can't get enough of Rice's music. I just wish there was more than just listening.

Watching Live at Abbey Road, I was so impressed by him. Mostly performers talk about themselves more than they sing. But Damien was different. He didn't speak much, saying about the whole 'people just talk about themselves.' It meant he was there just for the audience, and let his music define him. I wish they hadn't cut off part of Rootless Tree though. The thing about Rice that I love is his frankness. He just goes, 'Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!' They shouldn't have cut it out. By doing that, they've cut out the essence of the song.

Insane

Should I speak?
Should I bother shaking hands?
Am I weak If I leave it as it stands?
I've submerged
And I've surfaced with the blame
I guess I'm no good
I guess I'm insane

Should I go
If she calls out my name?
And if she bleeds
Should I wipe up the stain?
And if I'm low
Can I drown in this rain?
I guess I'm no good
I guess I'm insane

And I hate when you say
That I never fight for you
Sometimes you breathe
All over my skin
And you always end up
Closer than close
That's where I give in

Should I confess
The actions of a hand
In my mind
I'll betray you once again
Why should I climb?
What is there to gain?
This is no good
This is insane

And I hate when you say
That I never fight for you
Sometimes you breathe
All over my skin
And you always end up
Closer than close
That's where I give in

You're taking
You're taking
You're taking me down
You're taking
You're taking
You're taking me down
And you always end up
Closer than close
That's where I give in
That's where I give in
That's where I give in


- Damien Rice

Labels: damien rice, depressing

You know how girls want a knight in shining armour? I don't really fancy shining armours, except for Gondor's armours. Okay well, I'm dreaming of a rouge in a black cape, who has this really aggressive and cold persona. He probably is the leader of a mercenary and is wanted for the brutal killings. (Sounds very much like Bran in SOTS. Oh my darling Bran.) So he is this rouge who has never loved before, and is deprived of his manly needs. Deep inside he is this protective man, a dangerous lover, and he is so badly scarred emotionally, that his heart is inflamed with years and years of tears. And right now, I think I sound like I would like some kind of a Don Juan.

And then you know when you watch sad movies, you feel like you would like to reach out to that man and help him, care for him, and love him. (The way I feel about Phantom and Bran, Haha, okay whatever, shut up.) You feel like you can help and love this character unconditionally.

But then I know if this Phantom comes along, I will not be able to help him. I know I will not be able to reach out to this individual and show him a beautiful reflection and then just love him. It's like a father trying to give birth when he hasn't got a uterus. You can't love if you have never loved anyone. You can't heal someone when you have not yet cured. If I could ever say to Phantom that his imperfection doesn't mean he deserve a life of solitute, I wouldn't even believe it if I told myself that. I will break mirrors, I will love someone obsessively, and I will live alone if I felt like I deserved it.

The thing about Phantom of the Opera that I love was that I could connect to it. I felt it. It stabbed my heart right there. At first it was like, 'I wish I could hold him and love him.' Then it just dawned upon me that 'That is me.' You won't even believe it if I tell you. It's not really me, I don't have a deformity, I didn't have to live in the Opera House or was ostracized. But I know that feeling of having to hide your face because you feel that you're so ugly, or that you don't deserve friends or companionship because of a deformity you think you have, and people hurt you so much and the only way to get back is just to spit back at them. I know how you really like someone, and it becomes an obsession. I know the darkness, and how you think it's freedom to be able to run around alone, but all it is, is just loneliness. And I cried so much everytime I watch it. It's so close to home, and I wish I could save him from his solitute.

Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime ...
Lead me, save me from my solitude ...
Say you want me with you, here beside you ...
Anywhere you go let me go too -

Labels: dreams, phantom of the opera

I'm still so smitten. Tehehehe. It doesn't matter if people just screw around, treat me like dirt and use me as a fucking lifeline. Or if I get into cat fights with all the girls in the house. Or get barked by parents. I don't care, because I'm still a smitten kitten.

However, the picture is slowing fading from my mind. Still not believing and having to slap myself every hour and say ,'Fuck, I saw ______________!' Okay now, enough now.

Back to the dirt thing. Hey I know people just use me. Is it race, or whatever. Yeah I think it's just race and the fact that I know big words like 'intimidating' (lol) makes you not want to know me better. It's like a lifeline thing. Bang, bang, your friend is dead, so you will need an escort to a lab or something. So hey, here's a suggestion, why not call Rafhana? I mean, she's pathetic as she is, why not use her so you don't have to look like a fucktard walking to class alone?!

Fucking needy people. I hate fucking needy people. You can't get to class on your own, take the train all fucking alone, because you're so fucking needy. So hey, here's another scenario. You're with me, because you have no choice. Trying to make friends and everything, giving that wide fake fucking smile just to appear kind and nice. Then your dead friend wakes up and you run to her like she's fucking air, and talk and scream in your little language. The next thing you know, I'm not there. You don't care about me, you just want a fucking flagpole. I mean, how do you think it makes me feel? Talking in your language that I don't understand, your bimboitic ways, giggling rampage. God!

I'm so sick of being a lamp post. They treat me like dirt, and then use me as a last option because no one else is there. Like a last resort thing. Never a first choice.
'Hey, why don't you come along?'

Instead it's, 'Hey! I have no one left and they left me, and I hate you, but I feel sad for you, so there you go, would you like to go out?'

Hey, Fuck You.

You don't get to take my freedom away from me. Be fucking alone, because it's not such a hard thing to live with.

Labels: dirt, smitten

I think it's him. I can't swallow it. I seem to be questioning myself whether I was at home sleeping and dreaming instead of doing flag day.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. I think it was him. Rewind. Play. I think I am going to die. I will die happy now.

I AM A FUCKING SHINY HAPPY PERSON!

Oh, I'm so smitten.

Labels: smitten

Oh yeah. The more I see the pictures it's becoming quite clear. I was hoping it wasn't, maybe just infatuation getting ahead of me. Because if he was, then he would need to go back, and there would be zero possibility that I would bump into him again. I am keeping that mental image of his small frown and a half smile, trying to understand my stutter under a stressful and smitten situation. While searching for his wallet I gazed at his dreamy jaw, his little smile, his narrow eyes. I wished I could've said something, but I didn't. Because I hoped I was wrong. Maybe he was just a clone of an extraordinary man. But why did he bear the same moles on his face, so similar to _____? The same soothing voice, and the friendly personality people have described?

Oh, I am so smitten.

Labels: smitten

What the fuck are you complaining about?

Your mother gives a shit about you. You have friends who gives a fuck about you. You don't have to starve. You are not fat. You can go out at night. You're one of the shiny happy people.

So what the fuck are you complaining about?



Life has been... mellow. Fuck, I haven't complained. I've said nothing to you. Shiny happy people are too shiny and pretty to be serious about fucking life anyway.

An angel descended today. Even now it has been so surreal. I planned a suicide for future use. Then it was like a sign. I was happy because this stranger made me so happy. Hello stranger, do I think you are who you are? Hello stranger, are you really...? Hello stranger, I wish I could see you again. Hello stranger, you don't know how much you have done today. Hello stranger, I think I love you.

Oh, I am so smitten.

Labels: smitten

You know, I could cry when I watch sad movies, but the next time I watch them the sadness lingers there but I have become immune that tears do not run anymore. Well there is actually something that keeps my tears flowing, no matter how much I watch it. Many do not know this about me - but I love the great apes. I always have, and I always will. A documentary is worth watching, called ‘Chimps Unchained.’ So far, I have caught it a few times and will always end up in tears. It just opened up my eyes to the cruelty imposed by human beings, and I ask, ‘What right do we have?’

Just a summary of the documentary: It is about chimpanzees who have been either captured from the wild or been bred to do despicable tasks, just because us, humans, needed to find a solution to live longer, or laugh a bit louder. The documentary ended with those words, which were so fitting. Now that they are old, they have been sent to retirement homes for chimps, namely an island in Florida, another centre in New Mexico and another in Canada. Most of them, have never stepped on grass, or seen the world without bars covering their vision.

Video footage of a chimp forced and tied to a bed just so some scientists could meddle with some part of its body -like say, remove a healthy spine only to replace it with some robotic one, just frustrates me. I felt sad for the chimps, and angry with us. Another footage of black and white which tore me apart were two baby chimps with boxing gloves forced on them, and then sent to fight each other on the arena. Chimps who worked in the circus were removed of their teeth so they could perform a little longer and not bite.

The chimps are behind bars, even in retirement homes, because they do not have a place to be free and roll on the grass. The chimps are domesticated, most would not even survive in the wild, and they eat ice cream and put on socks. They are intelligent and remarkable animals. We have no right to inject them with fluids just so maybe you could have longer eyelashes. And did you know the United States is the only country that is still using chimpanzees for lab research? Yeah right, the lab rules are stricter now, but why have there already been deaths in three laboratories so far?

The chimp that sparked the most curiosity and sadness was a chimp named Tom, which was 40something years old, birth date unknown, origin unknown, past life unknown. He had these beautiful eyes, which were so warm and mysterious. Someone’s eyes tell us a story about their life. I could just cry seeing his eyes. He has been through enough, so they set him free into the reserve they built for them. The first thing he did was run to the grass, and he had not seen the sky or stepped on grass for 30 years. And then he climbed a tree for the first time in 30 years.

It just angers me that they are being pried open and stabbed with vaccines as if they had no value. How they lived in cages as if they deserved to live that life. And how kids see them perform in the circus not ever knowing the horrid conditions they have been in. I mean, is it right for us to remove them from their natural habitats just for our own benefit? What right do we have? There are hundreds of the retired chimps still living in cages because there is not enough space to build them an island or a playground, just because back then we did not know, or did not care to feel for this incredible animals, that we put them in so much misery. How would you feel if you were caged, and the only world you know is that concrete floor? Do you not care? Do you not see? These apes are just not ‘things’. If they were meant to do these things, why were they found in a jungle, and not your backyard? How could we live with ourselves, how could we live with the eyes that watch us behind the bars that demand freedom? What right do we have?

You know, eyes always tell us a story. If you saw the eyes of the retired inmates, it could break your heart. We have done terrible things to them, and we are not quite sure if they have forgiven us, but they received and loved their caretakers. The people I saw in that documentary were selfless, spending every penny just so that the chimps could have a better life. I think that is what I want to do. I have a strong passion for apes, I really do.

We say we are the smartest creatures. But are we? How can you know, because from what I saw from those eyes, especially from Tom’s, there is so much unspoken wisdom. How they lie on the grass, and on trees, gazing at the midnight sky. What are they thinking? Are they relived to have had the smell of grass for the first time? I do not think we will ever know.
It will only be another 50 years until they completely disappear from the wild.

Labels: animals

I have screwed up my life, and the life before me. I am going to have a job which I hate, people that I dislike, and I might lose one of my fingers. I never thought this would happen to me. I am studying a course which I dislike, which I have no faith in, I am in a class that is bland. I think it's safe to say that Poly life do suck. It sucks for me. I'm not happy, I'm not content, I've been fucked. That booklet fucked me up.

Bang, bang. I wish my gun was real. We have old Spanish rifles at home, but they disabled the shooting thing, plus, we've got no bullets.

It sucks to be me.

Labels: depressing, school