remember me? i remember you.

You still exist on my wall.
Blu-tacked up there because I don't have the heart to take you down.
Silence is one of the most terrible reminders of solitude, and pictures let me remember that it felt like to feel like I could do anything, say anything, and open myself up completely, and not worry about getting hurt.
You were the only one that made me feel that.
Ever.
It's hard, finding people to help fill the gap you left in my days.
That's what happens when you are consumed by someone.
In my head I heard, 'Where is he? Is he here? Please let him be here, let him see me.'
Then you were there and I could calm down, focus on getting the ball off the other team.
You still exist in my mind.
And you shouldn't.
And you need to get out.
Because the memory of the warmth of your skin has become torture.
And torture me you do.

10 minutes

no title.

you know that feeling that nothing exists outside you and some other person?
where does that go when they do?





i hate being so shy. i guess last night isn't a good judge of it seeing as the majority of people were catching up with each other having not seen them since graduating last year. this is fair enough. and knowing most people by association, or knowing of them via the birthday girl certainly makes things easier.
is there an off switch for shyness? i mean, sure, alcohol certainly helps, but it still exists.
its my #1 worry for next year, meeting people. as i told sam earlier, its hard being told one thing by people outside of school, or everyday life, and then having a polar opposite response by people at school. shame shame shame. i guess it's easier if you know at least two people, that way theres always someone that you can talk to without looking like you're following them around like a lost puppy.

cest la vie.



i'm quickly working out that of work, school and socialising, i can only pick two of at the moment. work takes up the majority of my weekends, from 12 - 5 every day, which i don't mind, it just means i actually have to work hard during the week.
eep. haha say goodbye to procrastnating, i'm ogg to do some biology.


here goes nothing......


Peace out

(oh, n a shout out to Sam for just being a nice guy, and trying to make me smile whenever possible, even if you do enjoy poking fun at me)

the way you make me feel.

i'm jealous, i'm angry, and it doesnt even matter because he's done and will never read this unless by some miracle he has broken and given into curiosity and is reading on here again.

not that it matters anyhow. jsut feels like it does.
damn you for making me always feel like the worlds problems are all my fault!

in reality it probably won't even affect the rest of my life - different uni, different friends, different life. by some massive irony we'll end up taking the same course and be put into the same tute. argh and it will just go on and on.
no.
it won't. thats just me being dramatic.
he always did bring that out in me. probably cause it was the only guaranteed way to get attention.
jealousy is such a stupid emotion. he's not even mine. who cares if a week ago he was? this is now. and i'm just a tool for school work.

again.

You're My Addiction

It's not even been a day, not yet.
Feels like centuries.
My hands shake anyway.
Distracted.
Got to get that hit.
Just a little.
Not much, I promise.
Clouds my judgement:
Focussed on what it feels like to be satisfied.
Leave me intoxicated
From the last thing that was said.
Leave me devastated
Remembering
Coming back down
Back to reality.
But then there's that flicker of hope
For the next time.
When I can soar overhead again.
It doesn't take much,
Just the right combination of things.
But the main one....

....is you....

Because you're my addiction,
My own brand of heroin.
And I don't want to break free.

You know who you are, and you know that I mean it.

Birthdays

This thing i siged up for a few months ago form Plinky has finally pressured me into actually making use of it:
first off the block: "What would you like to do on your next birthday"
the answer:
many a thing. go clubbing - it'll be a sunday. have a decent sized birthday bash, if mama will ever let more than 15 people in the house at a time?!!!!!
possibly go away, take that holiday ive been wanting to go on... i might have enough money by then.
there'll be white balloons with stars on them. i don't know why, it just seems like a cool thing to have, specially if theres little lights in them. haha wow im tired. need to sleep.




zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

week 6

i'm not going to write for long, i just really wanted to get that post out of the top line of fire.
having said that, it did make me laugh. social dynamics are enough to base a honours thesis on. which may be taken as me being heartless and clinical. oh well.


i made a list for this week, of all the things that are going to happen, school-wise. i almost fainted when i finished, and not from holding my breath. they forgot to tell us that once this time of the year hits we're not allowed to sleep for fear of not completing everything.
in other words, its a bit yucky at the moment.

in other news, this whole job thing is working out great. although having said that it does mean i have no weekend afternoons anymore. i guess i can live without them......... though homework is gonna suffer..... oops.
im not stressing about it too much - its a steady job with decent pay so i'm loving it. not to mention the possibility of so much leftover food well all be fat if i take it to school, which i have every intention of doing, and possibly selling, and then giving money to the magdaline centre or oaktree or something - if theyre not gonna feed the needy with it, then the profits should go there, should they not?
and it might sound insincere (yeah im taking a devils advocate seat here because i dont doubt theres gonna be some unusual comments henceforth)

but week six is here and its snapping its evil jaws at me with unsettling pleasure. bring it on, and someone can sew back the shreads that may be left at the end.

goodbyes to Explanations

you know that feeling when adrenaline shoots through your veins, makes your fingers tingle?
combine it with fear and regret.
add in a mistake and you have created a situation i find myself in.
its the fear of confrontation.
and the angst of not trusting.
it's the hurt of no forgiveness.
and the anger of accusations.
is conscious ignorance the best form of dealing with something?
it certainly stops the chance of having my hands shake, and my blood race, and my whole body covered in shivers

telling me to run away

the knowledge that i cannot run away is ever-present and often leads to resorting to the measures that come naturally - the best defence is a good offence, right?
well, i was never a good apologiser, and this is usually because those that oppressed me made me feel like everything was my fault and i should be apologising for it. as a result, when it is not one of these situations it doesn't come naturally, especially if i feel i am not in the wrong with my reasoning - after all, its the clash of my reasoning with others ideas of how to treat others that gets us into this mess in the first place.

why?
because i go into everything feeling like i have my back against a wall and have no choice but to defend myself. thats what being ganged up on does to you after a while - you just go into things expecting the worst. and thats why it happens. put an animal in a cage against its will and it fights to get out. lashes out at anything that comes near for fear they are going to hurt them.

not to mention being tired of being a part of or victim of being treated badly by those that are meant to be ones friends.

not that anyone relevant is going to read this.
just putting it out there - why i am as stubborn and argumentative as i am = automatic self defence.

Dreams, Lies and The Food Pyramid

I'm currently sitting in front of the telly, listening to the Western Bulldogs and Geelong game. As I have little interest in watching sport on TV, I figured I'd take this lovely opportunity to catch up on some proper writing. Not the updates on personal feelings about the week etc, mind you. Things like.... what I end up contemplating on the bus etc.

Though, first, I wish to begin with the rather unusual realm of dreams. I've been having rather bizarre dreams recently. No, that's a lie - ever since James and I broke up. Not strange as in people/things out of place (ala Brian sitting in an oaktree full of fake cockatoos) but seriously weird shit - killing evil magical women by stabbing them with a pair of fabric scissors, hiding from a whale, then making friends with that same whale. Celebrating a birthday on a jelly bean-shaped tropical island while running from pirates and evil people. Kissing a stranger in a train station who then turns out to be a terrorist that takes you as a hostage on the top of a really tall, rickety house on stilts hundreds of metres high................
Some of them, are easily interpreted. But the others are like...... Wha...???
I find the notion of dream interpretation a valid form of psychological assessment, and am usually pretty good at connecting the theme to the reality. But lately..... I have noooooo idea.

Hannah's 18th in a week. I'm epically excited because 1. it's a party and 2. its a Peter Pan theme dress. To some this sounds lame but for those that know Han, this is perfect. Woooooo.
I reckon I'll go as an Indian (Han's Tigerlily). I really want to go as the cute little Lost Boy in the skunk getup with that huge fluffy tail (refer: Peter Pan cartoon movie XD ) but I think, frankly, I'd look rather contrary to the cute-and-lovable that those kiddies manage. Tinkerbell maybe?
No, Tinkerbell was a spiteful, jealous little fairy. Maybe not..... though she did learn her lesson and help save Pan and the others........
No, no I'm getting too detailed.

Hot weather is like happiness - warm and easygoing and makes everything better.

I think that those that fake assaults, rapes and other equally awful crimes should be jailed merely for making a mockery of a very serious thing. Dad worked a case in the 80's where a woman claimed to be raped in an alleyway behind Woolies one Friday night, relatively early in the partying world. there was public outrage and protests went ahead, called 'take back the night', I believe. He and his partner went there, took photos, and then discovered that the whole allegation was a lie - the woman made it up!
I think that's disgusting.
Kinda like I think that whole Kyle and Jackie O and the girl admitting to a sexual assault when she was 12 on national radio is disgusting.
There are three reasons, two hypotheticals as to why:
1. If this had occurred for real - her mother is a terrible person for putting her on there KNOWING that it had happened and forcing her to undergo national humiliation just for some concert tickets, which they got, by the way.
2. Apparently her relatives were paid by channel 9 to dish up the dirt on the girl, coming out that she is a diagnosed chronic liar or something along those lines, and that she made the whole thing up.
3. Assuming that this was all a hoax..... there is no WAY she would have done this if she knew what rape victims go through, mentally and physically, before, during and after the assualt.

I say bring back the 'take back the night' rallies and obliterate this horrific thing. I know that humanity has too many mental imbalances to actually make this occur, but we can cerainly try.

Apparently the food pyramid was originally made by a cereal company, which explains why it is at the bottom, with the mosst portions. i never understood why we were meant to eat so much, even though there are so many people, myself included, with gluten allergies - the key ingredient that makes it what it is. Then again, I also don't understand why our ancestors ate meat - did chimps cook their meat? how did it not kill them? what possessed them to attack something else and see what it tasted like?? Da says that the most awful, most primitive, human behaviour can be seen in chimps, and he's right - they're the only animal (as far as I am aware) that will gang up on another chimp and/or attack something for NO REASON WHATSOEVER. Sound familiar? No? Look at the allied occupation of Afghanistan, and Iraq.
Well wasn't that a wonderfully constructed tangent. Like a rubber band, I'll spring back briefly to the original point: I can see the reason behind being a vegetarian, and even a vegan. I like my bacon and eggs too much to be either of these. Though I could certainly try.....
Haha no.

Ok that's enough opinionated-ness and writing for tonight - it's 9.30 and I'm zonked - serves me right for testing out the Wii Active (which by the way is freaking awesome for those that actually want a work out - not even the WiiFit compares. which is saying something - I love the WiiFit).
So, for tonight, I bid you, dear reader, adieu.

50 mins

Success

Do you know what it's like to not make the grade?
To fail only at your personal standards, but theirs as well?
Do you know what it's like to feel like you're not good enough?

not worthy?
undeserving?
a failure?

Did you ever know what it was like to not be soaring ahead of everyone else?
To be only just making the grade?
What do you do when you think you fail?
Did you really?
Or is this just the crushing blow of not being perfect, or close to.
Is this just you, unused to being mediocre, being ordinary?
Throw a temper tantrum, perhaps? How about bug the teacher for every little mark possible?

I cannot remember a time when life was not about getting one-up on the other guy.
I suppose Aussie culture fosters this with our severe case of tall poppy syndrome.

Such a shame.
Such a shame indeed.

10 minutes

bring it on

today i snapped.
if im lucky the message will have got across to all.
though in the line of rumour i suspect it will be twisted.
i don't really care, to be honest. there's 9 weeks of school left.
9 weeks to get the best grades i can, and forget about people. not specific people, mind, just humanity in general. such a distraction!
oh well. that's life.
discovered the way i'm gonna work out uni preferences and such, which is exciting, purely because it means there's one less thing to stress about.
i admit, the whole notion of going into a place where youre unlikely to know anyone is, at best, daunting, particularly for a shy child like me.
but... it's like a rebirth, this whole not knowing anyone or anything, uh, thing- a chance at a new start. of course, it's impossible to change ones self totally - and it's just silly to try - but it's thrilling nonetheless.

bring on 2010.

university open days and accidental meetings

university open days today.
all three. at once.
i have a much better idea: have each uni day on a separate day of the weekend! would make life so much easier. as it is, i am more confused than ever. i had, at the beginning of this year, a goal based on what i knew then: i was going to go to adelaide uni and study a Bachelor of Psychology (honours) and then 2 years work experience and then get accredited.
now........ i don't know where i want to go.
all three are legit, andi had my heart set on unisa for a long while after finding out that, when you get down to the nitty gritty, their course is better than adelaides. and NOW i discovered Flinders. good ol flinders that i know nothing about because all the info-things weve had at school, their reps are rather stand-offish.
turns out that they've got the longest standing psych program and are internationally renowned for it. i dont know if the others are - its something i need to follow up on. unfortunatley that now puts me in a pickle - i have 2 places to choose from (adelaides ter is like 99 and lets face it, im not getting straight 19's this year).
though i blame the weather for this - crappy weather = olivia in a crappy mood. sunny/warm weather = livvy in a good mood = more open to everything. argh. i dont know.
can anyone help me work through what course is better at what? the people at the unis are all biased (obviously) and i am the first one in my family to go to uni (my extended family don't count because i never see them) so nobody has any idea about what on earth is going on and what theyre like. ive got my bio teacher recommending flinders, and i can see why now, and ive got everyone saying that adelaide is the best one (but i think thats just elitism - older doesn't = better in my eyes).

help?
any suggestions?



on a lighter note, by freak accident, i ran into my best friend from primary school in one of the lectures (not literally). she's changes a lot, the only reason i recognised her was cause her mum hasnt changed a bit haha. though, i guess i changed a lot since they last saw me too - i wasnt blonde and better proportioned (ie not chubby) seven years ago.
its ironic, cause ive been looking for her for the majority of this year. i guess when you stop looking, the thing you were seeking finds you.

20 mins

time and all its frustrations

I am angry. It’s not really at one person, but it diffuses into aspects where it shouldn’t.
And it’s all to do with time.
I’m running out of it, and the hours I have I need to spend doing something worthwhile. I don't have the free hours to spend waiting for people, or doing nothing.
when I’m made to do these things, without a clear reason, or go places without a purpose I get irritable and unpleasant to be around until someone tells me exactly why I’m wasting my time. Sadly, no one is game to explain this to me, so I just get pissier and pissier as I try finding something more useful to do.
I hate being stood up. It’s the biggest time waster of all.
But, despite this, anger is tiring, and when I get angry and there’s no constructive thing to put it into, like that relay run I had to do after one of the biggest wastes of a day in my entire life. That run sorted me out.
Well, it's 9.20 and I have nothing like this to do.
So I sit here, getting more and more upset - you see, when there is no outlet, it turns into tears of frustration. So not a good thing to go to bed on.
It’s getting to the point where I’ve managed to sever most ties with one group, or so it feels like - I’m certainly not welcome there during breaks by the vast majority of people sitting there- but I’m at a loss of living in limbo between groups. And there is still 10 weeks of school to deal with - that’s 100 breaks, and 600 lessons to feel unwelcome.
It’s enough to make a person wonder why they didn't move schools earlier, and why one even bothered suggesting a holiday in the first place.
In other words: I’m lonely.
And being lonely sucks. Because it’s totally non-constructive and just makes you feel like crap. The kids that get me are either unavailable or possibly already asleep.

Why do I even bother?
Its 10 weeks. I’ll live in the study room and not talk to anyone. Not like people want to talk to me anyway.

20 mins

Gone

Something i wrote over about four days. Note to remember: i myself am fine, i was listening to the new Fray cd on repeat (which is an instant downer) and though i'd write this.
Cheers.


It burns.
Like fire.
But there are no scars.
No flames.
But she screams.
She feels it in her blood
Her heart is pumping fire.
It reaches her brain
She cannot hold it in.
She shrieks.
They cannot make her stop
That harrowing noise
Reaching them
From the very depths
Of her torn soul.

Red.
Angry.
Broken.

The fire spills forth,
In an unexpected form:
Salt slides down her cheeks
Salt after salt after terrible salt.
Her legs are numb,
She’s fallen to the ground.
A hand grips her upper arm,
Another, her other forearm.
She hears noise
Rising and falling.
One deep, one less so.
Like water, they talk fast
Bubbling over each other.
She cannot understand.

Water.
Cold.
Silence.

Where the hands grip her feels like ice
And hot needles
All at once.
She cannot stay still.
She struggles against them.
She stops screaming,
Starts yelling.
She knows who they are,
Those that hold her still.
She yells at the deeper ripple
It stops. It freezes.
She yanks her arm free.
The softer ripple is weaker.
She springs up,
Unsteady on her feet
With numb limbs.
Still cold. Still on fire.
She turns and runs.
Stumbles.
Falls.
She doesn’t stop.
Bloody hands and knees,
Bruised face.
She runs. Picks herself up and runs.
Runs and runs and runs.
Away from the sight.
Away from the place
Where her world ended.

White.
Clean.
Safe.

She hears the bubble of water.
Not voices.
Cars on tarmac.
Lights reflect on the wet road
Blinding her.

Water.
Silence.
Safety.

It’s fast.
So, so fast.
Grey, steel grey.
And brown.
She doesn’t care:
Her world ended
At the place of the two voices.
The Sheet.

White.
Crisp.
Blood-stained.

Beneath which,
Her future.
Her soul.
Her everything.
Gone.

She slips down the bank,
Trips, tumbles.
Hits the trunk of a sapling.
Neck snaps back.
Hurts.
Doesn’t care.
She rises again,
Muddy, unable to see
In the dark, in the rain.

Black.
Blue.
Silent.
Sinister.
Unknown.

Banking on one thing
For everything,
Isn’t a wise idea
When that something
Goes and disappears.

Rushing.
It sounds fast, cold, dirty.
Floodwaters raised the surface to her toes.
Icy.
She takes a deep breath.
Cold air, inhale
Exhale.
Inhale,
Exhale.
Forget to inhale.
Gasp for air through sobs.

Three
…
Two
…
One
…




Jump.



Can’t see. Can’t breathe.
Submerged tree.
Battered against wood and current.
Exhale.
Bubbles fly overhead,
The last chance of getting out of this.
No.
She’s under too deep.
It burns.
Her chest.
She cannot stop the burn.
Her lungs, her body,
Is telling her to swim up,
To fight
To save herself.
Her mind gave up an hour ago,
When metal crunched against bone
When skin was ripped off the flesh beneath it.
When the pavement, the road
Was painted red.

Grey-Brown
Eternity
Lost

Walking across the road,
No, running.
To catch the last bus.
But there’s a semi coming up fast
Behind is the bus
Only way home.
They ran. Three made it.
She could make it.
He wasn’t so fast.
Final of four, always the favourite.
Her life.


LOOK OUT!
Crash.
Gone.

Sirens.
Red lights flash.
Blue lights flash.
White sheets.
“I’m sorry.”

She smiles,
One last act
Before the current
Takes her body
Away from the place
where her heart lies.

Gone.

Boobs

And now for an unexpected subject matter, as in the title: boobs.
Yes, i said it.
I will never understand men's fascination with them, or the reason behind the necessity to have 'perfect' ones. What IS perfect, anyway?
I only write this because on Nova919's website right now there's an article about Miranda Kerr (Victorias Secret Angel and deemed one of the hottest bods around... for those that don't know) and how she's been spotted on the beach topless. They've been kind enough to put little starries over her nipples but, lets face it, the damage is done. Now, without sounding like a total creep over this - I was, and still am, looking for a song idk the name of that was on one of their playlists- this came up, and I'm looking at the picture thinking:
1. Poor girl, I bet she's going red over these. It sucks how the media treat people like bits of meat.
...And...
2. ...Hang on..... What happened to the perfect chest that lives inside bras worth thousands of dollars?

I'm not criticising her, here, let me make that clear.
I just find it horribly ironic that, take a candid shot, and everyone looks basically the same, just as un-wowing.
Just like guys have that penis-size thing, I think girls have the boob-size thing, and after seeing these photos, I'm firmly of the belief that model's that we base having round, firm..... not going to follow that further..... is total bull. For the entirety of my adolescence I've felt physically inadequate, trying to compete with photos of beautiful women. Fact is, it's impossible to do so. I know models- and I see my sister getting into that industry very soon - and as beautiful as they are, I wouldn't want to be them: there's so much pressure to be what everyone wants, not what you are.
Nobody is perfect, and I like me the way I am, now. We can all turn heads if we play our cards right, perfect body or not. So who gives a flying fig? It's just the media making us feel bad about ourselves again.
To them, I say, 'stuff you!'

15 minutes

Recommendation...... again

seems to be that i'm full of little other than recommendations for other artistic creations at the moment. well, not to disappoint, here is another.
TimT, a fellow blogger, has a site that i read regularly, and was introduced to by another follower. for those that take entertainment from the more academic jokes of this world, love poetry, or an uniqe perspective of otherwise ordinary every-day events, then THIS is the blog for you:
i mean, come on, jsut look at these!
'Speaking of Collanders' - different kinds of poetry. my fave is the Dangling Modifier Poem
And this.... a Letter to the Universe

hope it makes you laught as much as it did i.

I've been watching this mini-series on ABC recently. And, so sound kinda like I sold out, I truly recommend any teenager, or any parent with teens, watch these. It's called Whatever! and is all about the way we work internally. There's been three of five so far, on Risk, Binge, Sex, and to go, is Mood and Sleep.
They actually helped me to work out why I feel like I do so much of the time, and these extreme mood changes, from euphoria to angst to depression, make sense. Sadly, it's all linked to love. Love. Love. Love.
Yucky.
Oh well, nothing I can do about the way I work. XD

~~~

Just finished watching Step Up.
Without a doubt my favourite movie of all time, it makes me want to dance again, and take proper lessons and everything. the way one can use their body to make such extraordinary things.... is just....... oh.

i'd love to be a dancer. i keep using 'im not buiilt for dancing' as an excuse, wen really i should just book myself into a class and start learning. rarely do i feel that exhilaration from any other activity.
well, ill get off my ass this summer and learn. who knows.... next famous dancer perhaps?

could it be?

am i good enough?
would he want me?
look at all those others,
older, prettier, sexier, smarter
than me.
why would he possibly choose me?
because, for at least the most part, i get him.
and he gets me.
because i'm there.
because i'm unconventional
and opinionated
and creative and slightly odd.
i havent had my spirit broken yet.
put a list up,
long as you like.
could be all the reasons why he likes me
or all the reasons why he shouldn't.
it doesn't matter.
because he does.
and by some unknown miracle
he chooses me. not anyone else.
just me.
and that makes all the difference.

I've had enough!!

On a lighter note than that last post, am feeling substantially better than before.
woo woo woo.
Brian's gone travelling for a little while, so my evenings are considerably quieter, which is a bitter-sweet thing: I should be getting a lot more work done, but at the same time I miss my buddy.
Oh well, will be back sometime soon I think, so can't complain about that which I cannot change.

Speaking of which, I need to have a gripe. Those that did this today got an earful, and I sincerely hope that it ceases - I don't like yelling unless its necessary, and I hope you all feel ashamed of yourselves.

Where shall I begin?

I guess, with a number: 164.
This is my height, in centimetres. For some obscene reason, this number is not big enough for those around me. Not big enough for me to be exempt from stupid jokes.
I sat on a chair today that was too small, clearly from Kurrajong, and left me sitting with my collarbone near the surface of the desk. Not comfortable to be typing from, I can tell you. It was a bit of a shock falling further into the chair than was intended, and a comment was made that it was just my height. I laughed, let it go, and turned back to my seat once replacing it. Then another followed, and another, and another. I freely admit that I make the jokes sometimes about myself if appropriate- if you can't laugh at yourself, you're too serious. But there is a line, and it seems to me that this is just another way to put Olivia down. Just another way to make 'me' (whoever 'me' is at the time) feel a little more superior. NOBODY making those jokes needs to feel more superior - it's irritating enough as it is. What am I to you? A threat? Phht pull the other one please, go on.

I felt like screaming at the six or so in the joke that they are free to pick on something I can change, but not things i cant, because there are PLEANTY of things I could make a joke at about their physical appearence, if I bothered to sit down and think about it, but I don't, because I know its not nice to make jokes about things that people cannot change about themselves (and plastic surgery is obscene and disgusting and doesn't count as a way to change).

I do NOT like being an arm rest.
I find it humiliating to be down-graded because I'm a few cm shorter than others. And I need to emphasise that for some, this gap is less than 2 cm. Their egos are just about 50 million times bigger than mine.

And, as people have learned about making jokes about where I live, (Tom), from now on, anyone that makes a joke about how short I am, which I am NOT, they're in serious trouble. I've dealt with it since I was 13 and I will cop it no longer. I would like to politely remind some of said people that I know read this, that I was TALLER than most of you at one point. So, if you know what is good for you... in two simple words:

Shut. Up.

30 minutes

Help Me, Someone? Anyone?

is there any point to that which we do?
its cold.
too cold.
but it's sunny outside.
my feet wont get warm,
and tears swim 5 centimetres below the surface.
i'm not sure what over.
disappointment? rage? loss?
i don't know.
i want to drive.
drive, and drive and drive.
but i cannot.
not because i don't know how,
but because i can't leave my desk, knowing that there is an Art essay, English poetry essay, biology notes and legal studies notes to write and re-read and write some more.
i'm disappointed, mostly, i think.
i'm tired, like i used to be when we were one not two.
too many late nights waiting for someone to reply.


now, it's a cry for help.
i don't know who i am anymore.
my heart's split between too many places.
my head is trying desperately to focus on the coming year and all the promise it holds.
but i'm setting myself up for disappointment.
more fucking disappointment.
i'm so sick of it.
that'll teach me to have high hopes and dreams.
only to have them thrown back at my face with a voice saying, 'oh, sorry, you're not good enough', or 'it's impossible. deal with that'.

i'm lost.
i'm lonely.
i'm olivia.
what is that anyways? WHO is that?

names, used over and over. no individuality. can't talk to people because that means being honest about everything.
everything.
everything in me that i dont want to face.
is there something wrong with me?
is there?

maybe.

jasmine was right. she was always going to win. now she did. the question is whether or not i can climb out of this hole on my own or not. and if i can't, then i'm gone. gone gone gone far from here.

maybe this is the true grieving for the loss of that which consumed me and my time and all my effort. i'm exhausted because it was all a waste, all the excitement, the happy, the 'i love you'.
gone.
wasted.
there are people, for sure.
but i feel like i can't talk.
someone's sewn my mouth shut.
and i'm trying to scream.
and no one can hear me.

but the one person i've reached out to, that could actually do something to save my sanity, shied away.
at least thats what it feels like.


as the fray said a moment ago:

don't let me go.



i let me go.
will you?

if you do, i don't think i can come back.



please don't let me go.

fears and plays and hugs and words

So over everything.
its the middle / 2/3 of the year, and I’ve been told that this is the time when post people fall off the rails, and it gets really hard to push through.
They are right. I am so, so, so tired. And possibly getting sick - nausea and headaches and an odd-feeling throat is not a good sign.
So, forgive me, but this post is just a whinge at woe is my life. But, even then, I cannot say what I want because people read this thing, whether it is from facebook or the site or followers or whatever.

Words. They can inspire, insult, decide, enlighten, create and even kill.
But they mean nothing when all you need is something physical.
No, I don't mean that in the dirty way that most people take that statement. I mean really, really simple things, like... a hug, a hand to hold, a kiss on the forehead.
Those things.
Apparently, hugs make one calm down because they constrict large surface areas of the body, which releases dopamine or something like that in the brain, which calms us down.
And, again, science gives me a reason for otherwise unexplained behaviour. Yet another reason why I follow science and not religion.
As a lady that lives off words, for the most part, this sounds like blasphemy. But it’s true, and I am getting tired of inequality.

Conflict. As a rule, I don't handle it well, though I try to make it look like I do. I don't run from it, but I shake and freak out and hyperventilate if it is a bad argument. It is not over inconsequential things, but things that could have large repercussions if I do not hold myself in the correct manner.
Because, it is all about weighing up pros and cons and at the moment I have more to lose by fighting than I have to gain. It’s not as if I am really losing 'friends', as such, but even so, it can get rather lonely sometimes.
It is all about the connection. For those that read this regularly you will already have realised that this is one of those things that haunts me. Kinda like one of my fears, I suppose. It is not so much rejection as just having nobody there whatsoever.

It is why I am clinging to the fact that I will make new friends at university.
But that is in the future. And this is the now.

Apparently, teenagers are built mentally to not think about consequences or the future and take risks because we are designed to. I like this reasoning as it gives an explanation as to why the end of the year seems so far away, even though, really, it's not, if it’s august already then February is virtually a blink.
And then there is like... 80 more years for me to live after (i have every intention of living to 100 and being an active, dotty old grandma).
That is incomprehensible!

on a lighter note, I got my major legal studies assignment draft back and its sounding like I’m somewhere near the top of the class, which is a beautiful change, though I’m not actually sure about the exact figures.

Also, the school production, while at times cringe-worthy and other times yawn-worthy, there were a few skits that were excellently done and were very, very funny. Jess did a good job at MC though she kept reminding me that it was not a good night for her. The back stage people were a little loud, though, sometimes louder than jess was talking, though I can understand the difficulty of moving many things at once in silence, especially chairs.
But I know how much efforts been going into this, and the laughs were consistent throughout the performance. There’s one night left and I recommend people that know people in it go and support them - it’s only like $6, and, who knows, you might actually find skits that have you in stitches. I know I did.

40 mins