Wednesday, 25 March 2009

James' Headstone

nothing special, other than that i had a good hard laugh over this little snippet of a conversation today....

Liv says:
so what you up to today?

James says:
still esl~~~if i keep doing esl....i could die~~~ lol

Liv says:
hehehe, I'm imagining the headstone...

James says:

Liv says:

"Here lies Lvcheng, a bright young man.
Died completing ESL homework"
lol lol lol

James says:
lol..... ha
i prefer
"Here lies Lvcheng, a bright young man
buried alive by Liv,
who thinks I died from completing esl homework"...

.....yes, the kid's got a sense of humour....
sad thing is, i'm pretty sure i can imagine that happening o

Tuesday, 24 March 2009

I Love Wednesdays

I love Wednesday week B's
Not only are they 6 study lessons in a row, it means I can sleep in til 9, and work in the warm silence of my own living room, wearing whatever I choose, rather than a school uniform in a strangely odorous classroom.
Wake up at 7 from noise in living area/siblings/psychotic dog. 8.45: roll out of bed (may or may not be 9.30 depending on tiredness). Cook brekkie <(^.^)>. Start homework. Thankfully, I'm not interrupted at 2.30 by mum telling me I have to go get dressed out of pjyamas for softball training this week. Much joy at this. So shall be going over legal studies notes etc and english for what I suspect may be 9 hours, if last WedB was any indication of the Hell I'm about to delve into once i finish this post. Ah good ol year 12 - so much noting, so little time.

Am looking foward to thursdays after-hours stuff though: netball trials (not to self: bring hairspray for grip on shoes) til 5 and then Art Workback and pizza til 7.30. Which means that I'm going to be buggered for revision of the legal studies test on the Friday. Joy of joys. Lets hope I don't fail this one. I'm praying 75% but that'll be a miracle. Honest to God it was a bad choice. But theres nothing I can do about it now, I have to stick it out, deal with it, try desperatley to do the best I can and maybe just maybe get a TER over 90.... though I doubt it. Knowing my past history, it'll be like... 89 or 88 or something.
What an epically stupid number.

Oh well.
Such is life.
15 minutes

Saturday, 21 March 2009

Chat, chat, chat, surprise!

No one reason for posting today.

after feeling supremely content at that outburst/previous post yesterday, then even more amazingly pleased from meeting His mum and sister, i feel somewhat like i should be singing from the rooftops, or something to that extent.

every day is filled with new experiences. some easy, simple, like trying new food, others, like trying to get your boyfriends sister to not be afraid of you, are a little more difficult. and
some are just downright new. nothing else to say about them.
but no matter what the experience, i try to take it in my stride, deal with whatever life throws at me. and if this is hardship, or joy, or something in-between, then so be it.

all i can say is this:

oh, so this is what it feels like to be treated right, to feel safe and comfortable with everything about someone. wow, i think i like this, can i stay a little while, soak it up? please?

so here i sit, after work, after the best 24 hours of a long time, totally content with where my life is.
just thought i should say that.

Friday, 20 March 2009

Go fuck yourself, anon bloggers

Just a fast note, an angry note, to tell you that I HATE it when people leave anonymous messages. 
Just like the first people that posted mean comments.

Two brothers, one that i have never met, that has never spoken to me in my life, just as bad as one another, taking a cheap hit at me on the only thing that I look after religiously, the only constant, sometimes the only thing keeping me sane.

To you I say this: grow, up, get a life, and truly if you have any intention of getting ANY friends once you leave school, then please think long, long and hard about the way you treat people, because mean, vindictive cowards are not going to get far in the world and I hope you end up miserable if you don't change your ways. 

I thought we were okay, nothing wrong at that stage of life, as far as I knew, yet you did this at a time of peace.

So, this is why I write this, angry and hurt that someone I though was on good terms with me, is not. 

Go Fuck Yourself.

Libraries, Books, and Literary Graffiti

Well, it seems that the school's computer faculty have finally managed
to block off the portal to, which saddens me deeply.
However, I'm being the sneaky bugger that I am, know a way around
this, and it is perfectly legit, no hacking required for once :) so, I
post from the row of computers in the library, with my iPod in my
ears, and my Legal book by my side, about to start the noting of the
first chapter in this book that I actually can understand totally, and
while it may be vaguely boring, it makes sense.
Much happiness.

This post, however, other than to celebrate this little victory
against the authorities, is to talk about my library. Strangely
enough, it smells like books. The smell is intoxicating for me – there
is nothing like that smell of old paper. It smells like knowledge.
It's distracting enough to make me want to leave my work and spend
hours in the aisles, looking at all the different books, from the
Guinness World Records volumes, to the books on Shakespeare and Fidel
Castro. There's got to be over half a million dollars worth of
literature in this library, I swear. But either way, it's a good
place, even if the floor space has shrunk to half the original size in
the past year of so (all thanks to the 2 new computer labs).

So yes, just this brief post to outline my supreme appreciation for
books and while they may never be read, they are a portal into
someone's mind, a way of life, an event, the past, the future.
It hurts me personally when a book is plastered with graffiti; I try
not to draw in my textbooks, knowing there are two siblings left who
potentially will use them. Granted, by year 12, they could choose
totally different subjects than I have, but hey, it's still a chance.
Plus, just to tack on here, these textbooks are worth up to $70. The
PE book is $90. It's insane. So I like to keep that which is valuable,

It's such a shame to see perfectly good pages ripped, torn, bent and
covered in obscenities from my friends being careless with their
things. People learned early on not to touch my books with their pens,
and now that I have new friends that seem to be less inclined to care
of property, they're getting a firm talking to every time they put
their pen on my page and look at me as if to say 'ooh, look what I'm
about to do'.
Intensely frustrating.

Tuesday, 17 March 2009

“I, sir, am not a lesbian”

Upon finally telling the appropriate person about who I wanted to take as my “partner” to school, he informed me that the principal would be required to sign off on the arrangement. This is not normal procedure and it did not happen last year. On the question of why: in 2009, my year 12 formal ‘date’ is a girl. My best friend, to be exact. This exact same thing has happened with two of my friends, both taking female friends that are no longer at school, or never went to ours in the first place. However, it seems that they did not have a problem with the sex of their partner. Apparently, this influx of same-sex partners has never happened before. I call foul on this.
I have heard that those at all-girl schools must sign a ‘lesbian form’ as they are so-called, stating that they are not ‘together’, or are both straight. There’s another hearsay that students at such schools must have it on a record at school of their sexual orientation is anything other than straight up and down. I do not know if this is true, having never attended a single-sex school (the notion of education without guys was too mortifying to possible be an option when I moved schools for the last time.) though I think the notion is obscene. I can understand the reasons behind it, slightly, with sexual harassment etc, but the fact is that that happens regardless of gender anyway... whoopee doo.

I write this to express my intense irritation over the idea that I have to have my partner approved by the top dog at school, all because she is a girl.

Is anyone else seeing a slight flaw in the ‘anti-discrimination’ policy here?

Sunday, 15 March 2009

no title tonight.

there are several things swirling around in my mind at the moment. just from listening to my parents talking whilst putting away the dishes.
it's hard to go through it all.
my primary concern is work. my work. i work at a cafe which i love doing for the most part. although, since Chantelle left for Mildura, it's not going to be the same. the last time at work involved the most nightmarish customers i've ever had to deal with. i'm almost afraid to go back, just in case i have to deal with the customers.
but that's life in the hospitality industry.
but the Clipsal500 is coming up, which means i'm going to be working non-stop from just past sunrise, no sport, no friends, no homework, no nothing. eep.
Leah and Ann have tried to impress onto me just how hectic this week will be for them - they were on the track the other year. 5 people in the kitchen, 4 out the front..... far out brussel sprout!
anyway, this is partly a gripe session, because, like the typical child-sponge, have seen some concerns that my mother has also noticed....
one would think that payment would be every week, or on a specific date, at least, and that would be the regular pay-day. i've been skipped out on a couple of times, i think - my payday keeps changing from tuesday to wednesday a week to fortnightly. its so confusing!
anyways, thats my whinge for tonight....

have you ever noticed what a difference one letter can make?
add an 'e' to heroin and you have a saviour, a leader. without it its a destructive drug that destroys people.

thought that was rather interesting, cause when those two words are said, they sound the same, almost. ironic much?

oh, hello, are you me? welcome back.

it isn't the monumental shift in time that some other things have done, and they're only small things, some of them painfully shallow, but its getting better.

the most trivial, and yet, by association, the most important thing here at the moment... the clothes i chose to wear when i got up today.

it isn't a blindingly obvious thing to most people, and it is totally hidden to those that don't know me... but, it seems that there have been two occasions in my life that i've specifically chosen to chop off my tresses: once 4 years ago, and once this time last year. both times it was to begin anew, as though my hair represented the parts of my life i had to change.

so i did.

and now, as it grows back, longer and longer (its past my collarbone now as opposed to being 7mm long at the nape of my neck 12 months ago) i begin to look in the mirror and smile. once, a while ago i'm sure i mentioned that i'd look in a mirror and not recognise me in the image i saw. well, now, i do.

and as... strange... as it is to say it, i missed me. because now i feel like the girl who can wear green cargo pants and a tank top and not feel like i should be trying harder to look good. stuff the sophisticated look i was dreaming about. yay for comfortable things that still show off an ass. haha i joke. i'm not that desperate for attention.

speaking of which...

self esteem... well, it still sucks for the most part, but i'm finally beginning to see the actual result of this horrible thing that is adolescence. it would be a whole lot better if we spent a week in the growing pains of 10 years... and then just woke up as an adult body.

yeah, that'd work -.-

oh well, its done with. mostly.

now for the rest of my life to begin haha.

choice. decision. dating..... what?

so here i am, bored out of my brains, desperately not wanting to do homework.
the fact is that i have to, but me wanting to or not is something totally different.
so, i flitted my way through the Internet, flicking over sites, then i found a dating website, did a double take, and began to read. it was the typical dating rules.
as i read them, i became more and more irritated.
there was a particular emphasis on tardiness. late replies to things, late arrivals (which, for the record, i have perfectly down-pat anyway), late everything. letting him pay for everything.

maybe I've grown up in a more even world than this, but that strikes me as wrong. if dating is a game, then isn't someone the loser, and someone else the winner?
maybe its because i am still in awe of just how well yesterday went, and that, as i have previously mentioned to mum, i think i have found a keeper in this one. *beams*
but i don't know.... for all i know this could fail dismally, leaving me in pieces on the floor..... yet again.....
but lets face it, its too hard to be persistently depressed. being happy is much more fun :)

which is why i say this:
for the past, for hurting people, i am sorry. but i would not change it if i was given a second chance. i love where i am right now. i love that i am back in reality, flying over the tough spots with Him holding my hand, making the stress bearable.

green. emerald green. like glass.
curved, unusual, beautiful.
sure, bold, unafraid.

slash of bright yellow, then darkness.

at first, black. nothing else.

and then, it lightens as my eyes focus on them.

chestnut brown, encompassing the one orb of black in the very centre.

the same as every other of its kind in the world

but these chestnut brown eyes hold something more.

once flat and unreadable, now full of meaning that i can read.

and i know I'm in there somewhere,

behind those eyes, in the complex state that is thought,

with his fixed on my own blue irises, looking down at me.

knowing that among the green and brown,
is where i belong.

Saturday, 14 March 2009


just a super duper fast post to tell you all that i've just had the greatest day in history.
softball (2 games, each with its own frustrations)
formal shopping - to which i reply I BOUGHT A DRESS. no description though, want people to get the full effect in photos and in person (i promise i'll post a photo on here at some point in time when i'm all glammed up and sexiful .... which is a bit hard in such an elegant dress, but hey, who cares?!)
He met my parents today. everyone cept my siblings really like him (cause my siblings are just too stuck up to occasionally realise i REALLY like this one). even the dogs, which is weird. Rani, the guard dog, didnt even bark at him. not one woof. which is epically WOW - shes never done that to anyone before. am euphoric at today because of him and because of the dress, and the only reaction he could give was 'liv wow' when i twirled around (carefully) to show him and my dear dad, who approved. :)
*sighs contentedly* well, this is the best day of the school year by far. may there be many more to come.

Wednesday, 11 March 2009


You Are Upbeat

You are dreamy, peaceful, and young at heart.

Optimistic and caring, you tend to see the best in people.

You tend to be always smiling - and making others smile.

You are shy and intelligent... and a very hard worker.

You're also funny, but many people don't see your funny side.

Your subtle dry humor leaves your close friends in stitches.

a brief list of unexpected outspokeness

As the title suggests....
I am not in the mood for literary brilliance at the moment. I need a clear head and patience for that. Reading about some things does NOT instil that mood.

so, with this in mind, knowing I am in a clinical form of mind, and will be until a certain boy comes online and talks to me and I melt just a little more than before....... this is what I want to say....

I don't hate.
I think I'm incapable of it. or I would be, if I hadn't woken from two separate dreams feeling rage (I’ve never felt rage in reality before, so it sticks out like a spot of yellow on a purple painting - not quite right)

but there are things that disgust me, repel me, or I think are infinitely pointless and stupid. When I am calm, I enjoy debating these things, to understand the underlying things behind them, but after it all, I have my opinions. These are them......

self-induced vomiting is disgusting, even the reasons behind doing it are disgusting.

Cutting ones own flesh makes my own crawl - the sensation of cutting my toe on iron once by accident was enough to make me think that is yuck. Furthermore, I think (forgive me for not having the right words to demonstrate the sheer repulsion these things have on me) it's a losers way out of things. Running away. Giving up.

Depressed people have such beautiful, sad words. I know from experience that writing these little poetic instalments can seem amazing, but, truthfully, talking like that actually makes the feeling deepen and more intense, when it's written in a calm, smooth manner rather than one saying ‘no, get it away from me' plus, it comes off as 'get a grip of yourself and stop seeking attention.

I think religion is dangerous, which is why I’ve never followed one, though I’ve gotten close, almost swayed by 7 years of Anglican schooling.

I think global warming exists but isn’t as scary as they seem and that there should be more put into making ourselves more efficient than freaking out about if it’s happening or not and whose fault it is and why the hell the worlds going to end. Ugh.

I’m so sick of the negative things in this life; it makes me want to scream at everyone to grow up and act like the adults that they’re meant to be. To act in rational mind.

I hate racist jokes. People are still surprised by the flash of anger they cause in me sometimes. Especially when it means I have to defend someone I care about.
I’ve never experienced things like this before, and it shocks me that people actually act like that. Can actually think things like that. I was brought up to believe that it doesn’t matter what you see with your eyes, but what you hear in the music of their heartbeat, and in the scriptures of their mind.

In the most heartless sense of this, the heartbroken lament of 'you broke my heart and it will never be the same' is getting old. Move on.
The fact is: I do not understand how people can fall in love over the internet.
I am a total hypocrite for this because the fact is I may have almost done just that. Though, being so separate from him in everything but an internet connection and the occasional phone call, made it impossible for me to feel the way I do when His arms are wrapped around me, sheltering me from the outside world, from the jeers of those around us. It is not a strong feeling yet, but I know it will grow, more and more, and maybe, just maybe, it will shift into that four-lettered word that people kill for, and die to protect: love.

But yes, this was all I had to say, I can't yell on the internet, but the ones about vomiting and cutting are extreme emotions that I feel about them. They’re disgusting: in thought, and in action.

Tuesday, 10 March 2009

i am meant to be noting 35 pages of my text book, so i'll keep this brief for now.....

first off, i will say that stereotyping really shits me off. i know it is all in jest, but the fact is that i grew up totally oblivious to the -isms: racism, sexism, and phobias of those different (ir homophobia). i was never pressured to believe certain things, and due to this, i soaked up my parents like a sponge. its why i am who i am today.
stereotypes, like i said, irritate me.
i have a feeling that i am going to get many more comments such as thus: "do your parents know you're going out with a chinese boy?" and "so you like asians do you?

i have only one thing to say on the matter:

to me, those things don't matter. yes, i admit it, there are some of the asian decent that i find very very appealing. there are others that arent 'white' that i think are gods gift to women. whats the point of this shock that im dating someone? there is none. only of his nationality. ugh.

Monday, 9 March 2009

sunday's with strangers

the sensation of security amongst strangers doesn't come easily to me. indeed, it is almost nonexistent. yet, with a hand on me somewhere at almost all times, it's hard to feel unsafe.
(NB: at no time was it somewhere inappropriate for a social gathering)

so, as it has been put to me: why is meeting these people such a big whoop? well, the simple answer is that it means I'm wanted to stick around for a while. no point introducing me if I'm not going to be a part of that scene for much longer.
made some friends :) yay.
and though i am shy, especially when the majority of people are not going to speak English around me, it was a comfortable silence once i was no longer the strange freak show to be stared at when they thought i couldn't see, and for people like Single, when i was looking. (note: Single's awesome, no doubt about that, so it's all good ^^)
i will never forget the outright shock when they saw his fingers laced with mine, and he explained who i was, and the quick question from Single: 'does she have any friends she can introduce me to?' *chortle chortle* (my reply: come to our school one afternoon and I'll introduce you, but i don't know .....)
i don't want to relay the whole day, because as good as it was, its more or less boring for everyone else, or painful.
*feels bad*
mmmm but yes, wanted to express my supreme contentment and impatience for tomorrow to come -- with Tuesday comes school, and in turn, giggles from myself and his school friends over the interrogation he's had over how the hell he kept it from them. so it's all going to be a lot of fun. one thing's for sure: things are going to be different from now on.
*grins happily and melts into a happy puddle*

Wednesday, 4 March 2009

Written All Over Her Face

And I'm walkin' 'round bumpin' into things you said.....

I kid you not, everywhere I look, is a memory of you. Your Kanji on my wall, screaming 'love' amongst the inspirational quotes and referencing guide and timetable.
The little boy under my eyelids is crying for dad, his eyes filling with fat tears, but dad can't be found. And mum stands here, hugging herself, lost.
That little boy died as one potential reality did also.
I am a firm believer of 'if its meant to happen, it does' and I'm putting all my faith on that for this time. If we are meant to revive this little boy, turn him into something real, then it will happen.
I need to write. This is what I see in my mind, when I think of an anger like I've never experienced. That scares me away....

She cries out, in pain and loss, as his hand strikes her across the face. She falls to the ground, hitting the timber floor hard, scrambling away towards the bassinet, cowering before him. Tears stream down her face, begging him, 'no, no, no'. He stands over her, clenching and unclenching his strong fists, inhaling deeply, fury in his eyes, as he tenses for another blow. She cries and tries to fight back, knowing he is too strong for her. She rolls sideways and ducks out of the way as his fist flies towards her torso, clipping her stomach.
She grabs their now screaming child and rushes out the door as fast as she can manage with her injuries. Her keys are inside. She swears, and begins to run through the trees surrounding her home, her baby whimpering now, soothed by the rocking motion of her gait. She meets the road suddenly and takes a right turn, never slowing.
She's running for town. For safety.
She hears the crunch of tires on gravel behind her. She whimpers in fear: he's coming after them. He overtakes them, then swerves, cutting her off. He gets out the car as she stops dead, panicking.
Here is the man she loves, consumed by fury. So much so that he doesn't see what he's done to the love of his life, how he's scared her so that she doesn't recognise him any longer. He moves to her immobile body, gripping her arms tightly. So tight it hurts. There will be little finger-shaped bruises there in the morning, to complement the welt on her stomach and face.
She looks up into his eyes, and he down on her face, the 15cm of height he has on her is intimidating now. Her eyes swim with tears as she calls his name several times, praying that he will calm down enough for her to be partially safe again. His eyes appear to focus on her pupils, recognising her, then move to the welt on her cheek and the coresponding bruise on her temple from where she hit the ground. recognition flashes across his face. He blinks, then his mouth opens, as if to say somehting, but nothing comes. He falls to his knees before her, whispering her name, asking himself what had he done? His flash of anger has dissapated in the cold night air and he kneels here now, a sorry husband, a sorry man, yet still dangerous merely by living in the same house as his wife. Life had become too much. Control had broken. She was closest. She was strongest, and weakest. Stronger than the baby, yet much weaker than him. He taught her well, how to fight, but this was no even battle. He wins. Every time. Not this time.
She falls to the floor with him, he wraps his arms around her and their child, kisses her face, apologising over and over again, tears flowing freely down his face as he sees the damage he caused. She weeps also, but when her blue eyes, shining with tears, look into his, there is hurt, determination and, strangely, love. But the love is tainted now, and will be forever more. She is hurt in more ways than one, but this time it is for the decision she must now make.
She stands up, holding her child in one arm and pulling gently on his arm with her free hand. He rises, wiping the tears from his eyes. she walks to the truck, gets in the passenger seat. He drives them home, their final car trip together.
She gets out as soon as the engine is cut, not saying a word, heads past the overturned chairs (his) and broken wine glass (hers). Up the stairs, to the bedroom. She picks up the baby bag and puts some of her own things in with the nappies and wet-ones and bottles. He stands in the doorway hesitantly, watching her with sadness all over his face. He calls her name gently. She doesn't look back at him, doesn't acknowledge his presence until she zips the bag closed and scoops up the now sleeping child into her careful arms, patting his back gently to soothe him away from waking. It is now that she looks at her husband. She tells him she has to go. She cannot stay with him, here, now. He let's her pass, follows her down the staircase slowly, not wanting to startle her or their precious baby, his chubby face relaxed on his mother's shoulder, dreaming.
She walks out the flyscreen door, to the truck, places him carefully in his travel bassinet in the back seat, then goes to the driver's seat. Half in, half out of the car, she says to him, standing on the porch in resignation, that she will call tomorrow. He can do nothing but agree. He knows what he has done. He loved her more than life itself, and he lost her. A bad day with work, perhaps? A string of stressful situations? A rumour she'd been unfaithful? Only he knows the lead up to his outburst.
He watches as she pulls reverses and turns, driving down the lane, away from the place she called home for ten years. She's not coming back. He knows this. He knows he will never be able to take back that first contact, the memory of the blind rage in his mind, blocking out all reason. He knows he lost his life the moment she fell to the floor.
She hurts inside as she drives away, trying to block out all feelings she has for him, just for now. If she succumbs, she will turn around and go back to him. She cannot. She calls her parents, telling them she's coming home. She doesn't say why.
They will see the reason soon enough. Everyone will. It's written all over her face.


Missing you

I found a couple of sound clips on my iPod just now, from long ago.
I had saved them all to a file because most are songs Tony wrote, one of which was mine, once... I doubt he calls it that any more, or ever will again.......
These weren't songs.
Amidst the Cinematic Orchestra and Boys Like Girls, were two voices I know so well I could recognise them after years apart....

'i love you, Livvy'
'i love you, too'

That's it. Three seconds worth of talking of those that formerly were referred to as 'my boys'.
It made me cry. It leaves a hole in my heart, knowing that neither of them are there any more, that one wants nothing to do with me, and I suspect the other is the same.

Just thought I'd write that down....
Just in case one of my lost boys reads this.

Tuesday, 3 March 2009

Roses are red....

the only reason im writing right at this moment is because of the music im listening to - cinematic orchestra's 'to build a home'. its so beautiful..... it makes me calm and able to think with clarity.
for this reason, i post.

i feel empty at the moment.
not because of any real reason, other than exhaustion and possibly pms. crap. where's my vitB? i'll solve this...
haha no. really.
i floated though today with my eyes only half open, taking in the world around me in bits and pieces, focussing when it was crucially important (ala advising some of my friends on how to deal with a guy who apparently has some major perosnal space issues with them... poor girls. i never notice it - i have a diff bubble size than them).
i spent most of lunchtime alone. i can't shake the feeling that something's wrong.
thought about pete first when i realised this. hope he's ok.
as a general rule it takes me a while for things to really sink in., the larger the thing, the longer it takes. it took three years for one particular thing (see prev. posts)
i think maybe the enormity of what ive done is beginning to settle.ibut as it is written with black ink along the inside of my wrist, a stark contrast to the one remaining area pf pale skin on my arms, hiding partially under my blue waterproof watch:
Don't stop,
Keep moving,
Don't look back,
Life moves foward.
This in itself has been all thats keeping me going since maths in second lesson. Well, that and recalling James' words of a gift for me.
This said gift brightened my day an amazing amount, the simplicity, complexity and emotion held in it at once awes me. and leaves me genuinley speechless, and grinning tiredly but happily to myself even now as i hold it gently in one hand. if it was crushed now, i'm sure i'd cry.

my rose
i can't be bothered with correcting my capitalisation right now - too tired to care......
though i will say this... art is, without a doubt, one of the best subjects i do. its so relaxed, even though its one of the toughest subs to do at a year 12 level.

thats all for now. maybe ill post later.
much love,

Monday, 2 March 2009

projections of inner decisions

I'm not sure really what to write here....

Other than I had a good dose of reality today, and as I told Nick (or possibly Dan/Tony - no idea why they call him Tony....), all is right with the world. Now, this statement I know is wrong for the most part, just flip on the news and you'll see what I'm talking about. But in my heart I have a strange feeling of contentment which, given the most recent events, I cannot believe I feel. yet i do. And I soar so high as two fingers secretively stretch out for my own hand behind our crossed arms, a barrier of flesh from the world's eyes to see.
I am here, and while it may break hearts to read this, I need to say it: i am here, not there. in the present, not the past nor the future. though it is easier to say this on here, since this is a place for my thoughts, i am not taking back what i said. there is a face that haunts my dreams, telling me i have done wrong, but truthfully, i believe it is for the best. i can only think selfishly with that statement, i know, but that's what i think.
sometimes i hits me that i lost, and pushed away two of my closest pals within the same week... it's enough to cause a mental breakdown sometimes... but my life is here, with my friends and family, and everything in between. with uni and parties and rites of passage still to come; with legal age barriers to be reached and overcome, with year 12 to conquer and most importantly, keeping my mind on track: no more impossible dreams, no more messing around with peoples minds. straight and narrow path for me please. let me have the courage to defy my emotions and listen to my (perfectly reasonable) logic every now and again, to not jeopardise the relationships i have formed over these years with rash words. as of now, this is me - what i want to be, not an attention-commanding, irresponsible, immature teenager. (in the bad sense of this, not the normal sense)

now that I've got that out of my system..... i can write about other things.... but that shall wait for another time seeing as this has been sitting, unfinished on my screen for about a grand total of.... 3 hours and 5 minutes. :) see, i can concentrate good :)

later. xx