It’s absolutely ridiculous, how I can go from zero to sixty with just the smallest amount of male attention.
I don’t even care anymore, I’ll take it from whoever gives it. I’m ruined, I’m done. It’s the only way I can stop thinking about V.
“I will blow your heart to pieces. And I’ll love you if you let me.”
I’ve started reading Twilight a second time. There is something about that book that just makes my heart so happy. If I sat and thought about it long enough, I’d probably figure out what it is that has me so engrossed in this story, but right now, all I can do is revel in the perfect sentences, the perfect characters and their perfect enchanting way of captivating me. Sigh.
My hip hop phase is slowly dying down. I think the upcoming Common concert will probably revive it again, but it might have the adverse effect of simply acting as closure. I’ve moved onto English boys and vampires for now. Oh, and my passion for rock music is resurfacing. It had never really left, but it was buried underneath my willingness to explore new territory. Well I’ve seen the new territory and needless to say, I’m unimpressed. Back to the darkness, where I feel warm, comfortable and numb. Maybe sadness and pain really is my happiness? Hm.
I’m such a freak, wow.
We choose to ignore the obvious.
I don’t feel very cool today. I feel kind of lame. I feel like there is a lot that I still don’t know, that I want to know though. I wish I could put myself in someone else’s skin for a day and see what it’s like to walk a mile in their shoes. I want to see what it’s like to live with someone else’s problems, joys, tears, treasures & troubles. I don’t think Design will push me far enough, I think I need to educate myself additionally, externally, more thoroughly.
I have a head disease. It’ll never go away. I’ll never be satisfied with how I look. I’ll never be thin enough, my skin will never be flawless to my taste, my hair will never be as thick or voluminous as I’d want it to be, and my face’s profile will never look delicate. I wish this disease would go away already. I hope I don’t transmit it to my daughter. I hope my daughter will love herself 20 times more than I’ve ever loved myself.
…except if you’re going to an outdoors shopping mall called Quartier Dix-30.
I have a weird obsession with culture. Ethnicity, music, fashion… there are cultures which revolve around those specific topics. I’m so fascinated by them. I want to be part of them all. I want to have a piece. The asians and the african americans are who interest me the most; the hip hop, the scene, the skating and the surfing are what I wish I could be part of; the glamour and the money of haute couture are what I wish I could own. This isn’t being explained well. I don’t know how to put it into words. I’m not searching for myself because I very well know who I am, but the person that I am is too vast to be described. I’m spread out all over the place, which is cool but confusing and a little bit demanding at times. I wouldn’t have it any other way. All I know is that every minute of every day, my heart expands and starts enjoying something new, every year I find myself being someone different than I was the previous. Some things are for sure, some things won’t change. Or I think they won’t change, at least. I don’t want them to change, I want them to happen. I want to bring into this world kids who are different, both physically and intellectually, emotionally. My kids will be cultured, they’ll be fun and funny and loving. Sure, they might have identity crises, I’ve had them, we’ve all had them. I want them to be able to look at mom and dad, and see two different people who are headstrong, intelligent, talented and all around smart. Two people who are from different backgrounds both ethnically and in life. I want my kids to have the examples of two different worlds uniting together, making new life and creating a hybrid world of their own. I like this. It may sound pushed or far-fetched, but it isn’t. People do it all the time. Interracial kids are so fascinating, you can’t deny that. It’s even more fascinating that most times, both parents got their own story to tell, they’ve each come their own way, and it’s refreshing, it’s different, it’s cool. I’m not idolizing anyone or looking up to anybody. I am different, my husband will be different, our kids will be different. That’s just how it goes for me. My blood has never and will never be a sheep’s blood; my blood runs from unique beings, two people who are unlike anyone else I know, and they’ve done magic by making my brother and I just as unique in our own way as they are in theirs. I wanna keep making that unique blood flow, I plan on it happening, I plan on it creating good little people who will grow into amazing human people, heartfelt people, people who care and persevere and love and laugh and cherish and give and strive for more all the time. Beautiful people. I know they’ll be beautiful, I can see it already.
I’m excited for this day to come. I’m excited every day that I wake up, because I don’t know if that will be the day that someone will revolutionize my life, make me think “Wow, this guy… wow.”
I know what I want. I’m just not entirely sure how I will get it, yet.
Last night was such a rollercoaster ride, emotionally. I so much want him to be the one… the one who will take all my pain away. I so much want him to be the one who will give me a better reason to want to wake up in the morning, the one that I can present to my family, the one I can do nice vacations with, the one, THE ONE… At my age, people shouldn’t play games anymore. I know what I want in my life, I wish it were the same for everybody else.
Loulou went on a date with a sweet Greek man and it went very well. I am genuinely happy for her. But… she has been single for two months, and I have been single for two years, and we have been through the same emotional turmoil, and I am sad that she already has someone new and I do not. This is not her fault, and I do not blame her for it obviously. I am mad at myself mostly. I think I am stopping it from happening. I always automatically blamed it on my weight, as most people do. Loulou never blamed her weight for anything, and she is a bit bigger than me. It was not an excuse for her; I will no longer make it an excuse for me.
“She will and she can find a man who knows her worth.”
I can’t concentrate on anything right now. I feel sick. J’ai mal au coeur. Pourquoi ils ne veulent pas de moi? They don’t want to hold me, hug me, kiss me, nothing… why do you play that game with me? It’s hard tonight.
“It can all fall down around me, just as long as I have you right here by me.”
J’ai hâte de pouvoir entendre ces mots.
I’m not really a huge country/pop music fan, but I saw the videoclip for this song while getting ready for school this morning, and it made me feel like “Oh my God, this girl wrote a song about my life!”, lol. Well, let’s just replace the name Drew by someone else’s name, and switch the guitar for my laptop. The song itself is not so bad, but the lyrics are what really made me realize that I could relate.
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I was reading old journal entries of mine, and when I mean old, I don’t mean extremely old, I mean last year (!!!!!!!) and it’s absolutely ridiculous how immature I was. Just one year, and I feel like I have changed entirely. Maybe I’ve learned to shut up, which is a little sad but it’s sparing me lots of embarassing moments. My heart still feels the same about those two guys though. But I’ve become more realistic about our relationship. And realistically, I think I can barely call them friends. They still manage to surprise me with sweet phone calls and cute words, but realistically, I have to think nothing of it, because it means just that: nothing.
[edit] I miss saying “my boyfriend”.
Shutting up now.
Why is there so much pressure in our society? Maybe it’s in MY society, I don’t know, man. I just feel like there’s this expectation from everyone around me, for me to be this great ideal of a girl. The worst part is that I want this ideal to become reality too! I’m not complaining that it’s unfair and that I should be different, I actually want to be as good as they expect me to be. It just bothers me that I am not.
I should be thinner, and more fit, and I should have a boyfriend, and I should know how to take care of everything. I should call my grandparents every week, and I should buy gifts to everyone on every single occasion. I should save my money instead of spending it on selfish purchases. I should be affirmative and confident. I should clean the house every Saturday morning and I should work out on a regular, timed basis.
I’m none of those things, and it bothers me! It bothers me so much, because I want to be them! I don’t know why I am stopping myself, or something. I’m just lazy. Laziness takes over. All I seem to concentrate on is having as much fun and joy in my life at that moment, I hardly ever plan ahead. I have this overwhelming fear that if I don’t take advantage of a situation in that moment, it will be lost and I will never have a chance at living it again later on. I’m so scared that I will die young. I don’t know why. Everything I do, I try to take as much advantage out of it as I possibly can. I don’t even know if what I’m writing right now makes any sense at all.
URGH.
