Loaded (Not Money)

This has been the most depressing week ever in my life. I cannot EVER remember having wished for a week to end as much as this.

I have a shitload of work to do, and I am seriously not kidding. It sucks. It sucks. It sucks a lot.

Because, I found out, that I don't actually need to make a conscious effort to learn. I just sit there and absorb everything. I also found out how I learn. I learn more effectively from interaction than from textbooks and stuff, though that works well too. Learning from interaction is easier because I can remember it better.

It works. Especially for things I hadn't given even a tiny bit of attention to before that very day. *Hint: like Malay. Geography. Or History. Or Maths or Science.*

SCREWED, PEOPLE. I AM SCREWED.

I TOTALLY FUCKED UP THIS LIFE.

Okay, now that's over. But I'm still not happy with my life right now. Be honest. Who would be?

I don't want to wake up in the morning. Waking up means facing another day. Facing another day means more meaningless homework, more useless, talkative teachers, more depressing shit, more horribly tactless people, and HER. God. Dammit, I just want a break from this kind of high-pressure life. Is it seriously that hard?

Yes. Apparently it is.

Apparently, there's no such thing. My March holidays were spent obsessing over the huge amount of homework left and the limited amount of time I had left to do them. My March holidays were also spent calculating approximately how much time I needed to do those damned homework, and whether or not I could copy them from some stupid dumbass in the morning before school started.

They were also spent ... sleeping. I know. No one sleeps as much as they should now. I apologize. It should be, 'no one sleeps much'. Except for old people with nothing better to do.

Do you want to ask someone? I bet they'd tell you 'six hours. If I'm extremely lucky'. Because. Been there, done that. I have asked most of my classmates, people from other classes, people from other levels, people from other schools. None of them sleep more than six hours a day.

If this is secondary life, then I am seriously dreading University life. University life - with a caps, because I am so much in fucking awe and fear of it - would definitely kill people. As it is, people are already jumping off buildings and axing off body parts, all in the name of 'HOLY SHIT - I can't face school anymore'. Really, people my age have done that.

You know what's depressing? What's really really depressing?

I empathize. I understand why they did a flying leap off the roof.

Just a side note here. You know it's currently March, don't you? But do you know that my June holidays were already packed by February, almost? Screw everything.

Anyways.

Maybe there's a god, maybe there isn't - and I still don't understand why everyone turns to gods when there's trouble. I mean, yes, I know the principle behind it, like, 'I can't do this. The powerful benign being floating in the clouds can do this - if I ask him nicely enough', but I don't feel it. Even if there's a god ... I'm just exhausted. What can he do, save giving me fifty IQ points so that I won't have to do anything, or change the system of the whole world?

Well, not much.

Now that brings me back to my absolute favourite subject. The female who gave me half of my genes. For your information, I now know that sarcasm tastes sour and poisonous, due to using it more than a few times to colour my words.

ON MONDAY, AFTER THE ALMIGHTY BITCH HAS PISSED ME OFF.
I'll show a blank face to everyone for a week. During that week I shall convey my feelings with little sidelong glances. Who'll notice? Anyway the greatest villains all have great poker faces. I should have one too. That alone tells you much about my intended choice of career.

ON WEDNESDAY, AFTER I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT IT.
Nevermind, I'll do this for just two days - Thursday and Friday, when my dad's in Malaysia. Because it's too hard. Lying isn't that effective without facial expressions. Because my lying mainly involves acting innocent of it all.

ON THURSDAY, AFTER THE ALMIGHTY BITCH PISSED ME OFF AGAIN.
I forgot about this for a bit, but anyway my mom pissed me off so much that I cried. This experiment is a failure, therefore I shall try it again. I need a poker face. The thought of giving myself away repulses me. Let's see what happens on Friday.

AND THEN ON FRIDAY ... I got caught cheating.


/EDIT/: Okay I honestly admit to not understanding anything in this post. Was I really this annoying back then? How did I even have friends?

Brain Hates Me

I really really fucking hate people touching my stuff.

It seems weird, I know, but it's mine, no? Why the hell are they touching it then? You might know that I am referring specifically to my dear darling parents. Right now it's eleven in the morning, Sunday, and I'm sneaking online following a particularly annoying incident involving my parents.

I don't like church. It involves me going there for no reason at all and pretending to love that almighty God whom I absolutely don't believe in. Anyway if I stayed at home I can sneak online, which is what I'm doing now.

So I kinda threw a tantrum - closing my eyes and ignoring them all. Until they began touching my stuff. I could HEAR them touching my things. Screw them. My stuff. MINE.

Parents don't like it when you ignore them.

Skip, skip, fast-forward. Because that part is for me to lock it in my memory and throw down a river when I have the chance.

Now's the time for interesting bits.

*Parents taps arm* Fuck you. Go away.
*Taps arm harder* Screw you.
*Taps arm even harder* Idiots.

We're wasting our time trying to get you up, why won't you just wake up?
Oh, duh. Because you ARE wasting your time. I'm not gonna get up. I have something to do when you FINALLY fuck off.

When we tried to get you to sleep last night you didn't want to. Now look.
Duh again. I had something I wanted to do last night - which I could only do if I stayed awake. Now I have something to do - which I could only do if you all fucked off and the easy way for you all to go off and leave me here is to do this. So, yeah.

My dad took my phone.

MY PHONE. MY PHONE, BASTARD.

That's my connection with my friends, since the internet requires a fucking password from you (which, by the by, you told me then forgot you told me. I am still gloating about that) so I have to resort to sms. Which you kindly gave me five hundred a month.

Still pissed.

Feels bad.

Screw parents.

FUCK YOU, GOD. SCREW YOU AND YOUR BLOODY STUPID HEAVEN.

This, I think, would make all my Christian followers run away as fast as possible. Or try and preach to me.

If I had any followers at this stage.

Do you know, I just found out that... *Slumps* I forgot. My brain and I don't have a stable relationship. It's quite fickle. And it doesn't understand the word 'faithful'. Lol.

In fact my brain annoys me to no end. If it can absorb Maths and Science and English and German (note that I didn't say Chinese, because I just fucking hate it) like a frickin sponge, then why won't it give me my plots for my stories???

Godammit, brain. I KNOW I have those plots inside somewhere. Give them back!!! My imagination belongs to me, and don't you argue that it's yours cuz it lives in you.

No, dammit. Imagination is MINE. And so are those plots. So give 'em.

By now you'd probably think I'm insane.

You'd be right too.

/EDIT/: 11 June 2012: Note the childish narration. I kind of hate my child!self

Imagine Shit

Have a damn good imagination.

This helps with escaping reality. You know. Use your imagination to find out why. The end.

I think I should be a psychologist when I grow up. Or philosopher. You do realise that I am thinking of all the easy jobs. They actually require very little effort (besides thinking) AFTER you complete whatever training they need.

/EDIT/: 11 June 2012: I have no job experience, also I was young and kind of stupid.

I'm at episode 60+ of Prince of Tennis after roughly a week. I had no idea I could be this obsessed.

Okay, fine! I do. When I was watching Code Geass I took a huge risk of waking up early in the morning (before my parents, even) and sneaking online (I'm not supposed to know the password for the computer, if my parents find out that I know, then they'll change it and I'll be left stranded without internet access).

And then for an entire month my thoughts consisted of only Code Geass.

/EDIT/: Lelouch, actually.

Less of Inspiration

Lately there's been no inspiration. And both my fourth and last finger (the injured one and the one after that) are stiff from not moving. It hurst, goddammit. Not the injury, but the not miving part. Man, it sucks.

No inspiration, that is, except for the rare short burst enabling me to write a few sentences. Huh. But those snetences are good.

Okaaay!
-Slack all you can.-
Hurhur.

Dunno why I'm so chipper. It's weird, huh?  My life still sucks right now.
 
But hey! I've got Twitter now!
 
Oh, last sentences. I did a few sentences while looking at a red-ish white-ish very chinese-ish painting. It's a bit depressing.
 
Blood-splattered leaves litter the forest floor. In the warm autumn air they lie forgotten.

/EDIT/: I'm planning to write some angsty fanfiction with this. Hence the tag.

Finger Problem

16/11/14 im sorry anyone had to read this shit

/EDIT/: 11 June 2012: What the fuck was I doing? What the fuck is this?

Remember my pwoor, pwoor, finger?

Let me describe it (the finger) for you. It's swollen. Half of the finger pad is red, the other an interesting array of colors (bruises). The nail... is dead. Not just 'dead skin cells' dead, it's gonna fall off when my new nail grows. The skin around the nail is also dark blue/purple, like the color from the nail (did I mention? the nail's blackish blue/purple too) bled into it.

I measured my finger. It has swelled 0.5cm. (I measured the same finger on my left hand and used it as a reference)

It throbs, god dammit, it throbs. Like an annoying background noise, maybe a persistent fly. And, hell, it aches too.

I keep forgetting it's there (even though it hurts) and banging it on something, which is, really, I think, the cause of the major swelling. Because, on the first day, it wasn't so bad.

Oh, and since my finger's so damn ... injured, I didn't drink much water (it's really inconvenient to hold cups) thus resulting in a nosebleed while I was changing clothes - halfway through. You can imagine. The exasperation and discomfort.

Yes, due to all those reason, and some other reasons (like school and teachers and homework and time and parents and schoolmates) I will not be updating this blog for a bit. I know I've just started this... but...

(here are some random thoughts)

-After writing a thousand words in two days for a fic-
Wow. My muse is back. Am very amazed.
/EDIT/: Last time I didn't use to write as much.

-Almost midnight, I'm rushing my homework-
What crap am I writing?! *Is sincerely flabbergasted by the mess I have produced... But decides to continue anyway*

-*Rolling eyes at parents*-
Such idiocy. "I've finished my homework." What completely unbelievable bullcrap. I haven't done it, I'm just waiting till I get to school so that I can copy it off someone. You... actually believe me.

Side Note: I have a sneaking suspicion that I am writing more here than I write for my homework assignments. Now that would be bad. *Thinks about complications and repercussion of this action* Ah, that's too deep. I know it's deep because I think too much about everything. Even this stray thought.

Tschüs! (It's german this time, the previous time it was Japanese)

STFU

16/11/14 im still annoying. why am i looking at my old posts? why am i not mass deleting them? all these questions that i have no answers to. i guess i wanted to preserve my sense of self when i was like thirteen. nostalgia i guess

11 June 2012: Why the fuck was I so annoying back then?

On Sunday I slammed the car door on my fourth finger of my right hand. OW.

I was going out to look for my missing earpiece, and I guess I was either pissed off or not thinking at all, cuz I just closed the car door on my finger. Then after I closed the door I was all like, OMFG SHIT and pulled open the door.

It was kinda numb, but I cried a little. The pain came later.

It was horrible. Later. I am feeling DAMNED sorry for myself.