Rebelling + Versace

My mum bought me a Versace belt today. My first reaction was, "Why did you buy it? You know I'm not going to wear it!"

That's right. I said that, out loud.

Right after I said it, I froze, because I'd heard myself, and I hadn't liked what I'd heard. I sounded inconsiderate and immature, and I needed to grow up.

You see, I had made this pact with myself a few years ago: that I would live outside the consumerism that was eating at our society by not concerning myself with brands and labels and the like.

Wearing a belt with a 'Versace' buckle would be a glaring contradiction to said pact, and that was the reason for my initial reaction.

Wearing a Versace belt would be like... conforming. 

__________________________________________________

Let me tell you a little story. There was someone, up until a few months ago, that was very special to me.

Late at night, there was one thing that we would sometimes talk about.

I had, have, this burning desire to be different. To shine. To rise above the mediocre, the norm, and make a name for myself. To rebel. 

This is very important to me, and I would tell this someone all about that. All my fears and worries, my decisions and desires. I would outline all the ways I had decided would define my very being, and would aid me in my attempt at being different.

This person understood. One of the only ones who understood.

I changed, this year. I had an epiphany. One that made me realize that once I know that I am different from within, I do not need to keep proving it to everyone. I could be myself, a rebel by nature, without doing it for a reason... Because I'd done what I'd set out to be: I'd proven to myself that I was different - And your own opinion is the only one that matters.

So I settled into a comfortable state of not-giving-a-shit. I broke a few of the pacts I'd made, a few one my non-conformist ones, because I'd thought, hey, I already know that i am definitely not a conformist, so what harm would it be to ease some of the effort I put into not adhering to regular social requirements? This worked out well for me, because I could relax and, to put it bluntly, not give a shit.

This person I spoke about earlier, though? Not happy. My newfound laid-back attitude was misunderstood for conformism, and I was shunned faster than you could say kimhatesthis. Of course, I had far too much ego to go to this person and correct this misunderstanding, so I let nature take it's course. I let him believe I'd changed. I let him show his disappointment on his face, every time he looked at me. I let him tell me I was a disappointment, with cold, harsh words that cut through places in me I'd hoped were invincible. I didn't argue with him, because I was tired. I was tired of defending myself, and I was tired of feeling like a disappointment, so i gave up, and I let him go. (And go, he did.)

To know that he was disappointed in me, had lost respect for me? The worst pain imaginable. I'd stopped wanting anything from him but respect. Sometimes I think I didn't convey that to him effectively. He always thought I was looking for something else; I was too afraid to use the word 'respect', and so my intentions were never really conveyed.

In any case, i digress. It's too late now, for me to right the wrongs of the past. What's done is done, and my relationship with him can never be rekindled.

That respect I sought, and once used to have, however? That still haunts me at night.

I DON'T KNOW WHY IT MATTERS TO ME. I dont know how this respect I speak of would affect my life in any way. He's not even in my life. His opinion shouldn't be worth a penny. His respect shouldn't the driving force to self-satisfaction, but still....

It was the need for this very respect that caused me to blanch at the thought of wearing the Versace belt. The 'pact' of not wearing designer? It was my strongest one. Back when him and I were at our highest point, he would wonder why I did not wear designer and I would fight, yes, fight, for my 'cause'. It gave me some sort of joy to rebel, actually. I had no 'cause'. I was just being selfish. Everyone was wearing designer, so I wouldn't.

So you see: how could I wear it now? I know what he'd think. He'd take one look at the belt, and think "Oh yes, she'd conforming again." and then he'd, while genuinely not caring, walk away, and I'd lose a little more of his respect.

While I can spend the rest of my life without him and feel no misery at all, while I can watch him suffer and not blink an eye, (for I have grown so cold towards him) - I cannot shake the desire for him to understand that I am not conforming. Somehow, it's a way for me to reassure myself that I am not conforming. Besides, he was the first one in my life to understand my reasons behind it; how can he be the one who thinks I am?

__________________________________________________

I will wear the belt.

It may look like I am conforming. The world may think I am conforming, but I know that I will wear it because I love my mum, and because it is a beautiful belt, and because I know that no matter what, I will always be a rebel. 

The days I don't wear makeup to school (If I wake up late, etc.), people barrage me with "Are you okay? You look sick!"

It makes me burst into laughter.

I've really set the bar high for myself, haven't I?

I love it - Inspiration to get my lazy ass to put an effort into looking good each morning.

Tattoos.

I am addicted to tattoos.

I was warned this woud happen, and it has.

There is something strangely appealing about the adrenaline rush I get when I am seated in that chair, with the loud "bzzz" of the electronic needle pulsing in my ears, and the short sharp stings on my skin firing up every nerve in my body.

Some people look away, and I did as well at first. But then I began to watch, with a strange sense of awe and curiosity, as the sharp needle dipped into my skin, in and out, in and out, in and out, so fast it was near blurry.

And then when it was done, and my tattoo artist had wiped off all the oozing ink and blood, I saw that image that meant so much to me, permanently imprinted on my body - the pure joy that radiated through me then was unlike any other.

I want that feeling again. I crave it.

But, as usual, there is a problem. The next tattoo I planned out is huge. I am a major comic book fan, and as an ode to my fandom, I am going to get my three favorite comic book characters inked onto my calf, spanning entirely from my ankle to the back of my knees. It is going to have intense colour and detail.

(In case you're wondering, my three favorite characters are the Gotham City Sirens, on which I wrote a review you can view here.)

My father has, unhappily I presume, agreed to let me get this tattoo when I turn 21. The only condition is that until then, I get no more tattoos.

And so, considering my self-proclaimed addiction to ink, you can see why I am upset! ;)

xoxo children,

kim

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sniffles and love and happiness.

I'm quite excited. No, scratch that. I'm very excited. Actually, I'm more happy than excited. Wondering why? Well, everything in my life is good. No, everything is great. No, that's inadequate as well. Everything is ABSOLUTELY FANTASTICALLY UNICORNS-SHITTING-RAINBOWS AMAZING.

But what's NOT good is that I'm sick. Horribly sick. Sniffling-sobbing-coughing-and-dying kind of sick. I also skipped two days of school because of that. Which is the worst thing to do ever, because I really can't afford to miss school. Not in year 11, with hardly a month of school left before my igcse's. And especially not a Monday and a Tuesday! We have most of the horribly difficult classes on these two days. Missing them is like digging your own grave. So.. I'm not sure what I'm gonna do. I'm probably gonna get a whole lot of cover work to dramatically drown in.

To top it all off, I have a lot of assignments that are due in, and I haven't exactly.. finished.. them. I had a math project due in Monday, which I managed to finish at 2 am Sunday night despite being horribly sick (I was planning to send it in to school. Who knows? Maybe I'd need to submit it despite being sick.) but then after emailing my teacher Monday morning, he told me to bring it when I recovered and came to school. What a waste of a good night's sleep.

I also have this cartoon analysis due in for History. Truthfully, it was due in last Wednesday, but I had this breakdown in school (happens more often than not :/ ) and had to be sent home. (That's a story for another time, though.) So I never ended up handing that in. Not that I had anything to hand in, though. I hadn't exactly done it. I hate analysing cartoons. I mean.. they're not exactly super hard. But they just eat at my brain. I hate trying to stare at these cartoon characters on a page, drawn by some dude who is surreptitiously commenting on political situations through drawings. I know what you're thinking. Wow, how creative of him. But you know what I'm thinking? Stop drawing so I can analyse a WRITTEN source, please? But to no avail. No one listens to me, no. I still am being forced to analyse stupid cartoons. I know I should have finished this assignment and handed it in already. Tomorrow, my History teacher is going to murder me. She's real awesome, but when she gets mad, she'd frighten the pants off a professional wrestler. She makes you want to:
a) hide under a table,
b) burst into tears
c) run away, or
d) all of the above, simultaneously.

But I can't be blamed for not finishing it. I have so much on my mind lately. I can't focus on my studies. At all. I'm just.. thinking so much.

That's not my fault, either. I seem to have fallen in love. Again. I know what you're thinking. Really, Kim? You want to go through all the drama of falling in love again? But you know what? Shut up. Falling in love with someone new has caused me to finally, finally, finally get over my ex boyfriend. Finally. (That really needed to happen. It was way overdue. It should have happened last year. It should happened the second I started dating him. Hell, I never should have fallen for him. *sigh* ...But it did happen. But now? I can just forget about it and pretend it never happened so whatever.) I swear, I didn't think this could happen again. I had honestly thought he was it. But I'm very glad to know he isn't. And I really, really, really like, no, love this other person. God. Writing it down, it just sounds so... real.

I would love to talk about who I have these feelings for. But I'm going to wait a bit before I reveal any hints about 'em.

Anyway.. I hope you guys still follow me.
Hope you haven't given up on me because of my complete lack of posting.

If you have, have unfollowed me, you probably can't read this, but whatever. I'm ruining my own moment.)

If you haven't... I LOVE YOU. MARRY ME? <3

(Actually, no. There is already someone I want to marry. But whatever.)

(Good lord, I ruin a lot of moments.)

(Whatever.)

(Why do I say that word so much? I sound like a sad little tween who can't think of anything else to say.)

(....Eh. Who cares? Whatever.)

(I shall shut up, now.)

(Stop typing, Kim!)

(Bye.)

(<3)

(*drags herself away from her laptop*)

(*runs back and presses publish*)

(*drags herself away again.*)

xoxo children,
kim

Please comment, like/share and check out my youtube channel at: http://www.youtube.com/user/kimhatesthis

2012.

It's 2012.
Unlike most people, I did not spend new year's out partying.
Instead, I spent it curled up at home with a giant blanket.
I've been in a horrible, sad mood these past few days. My family and my friends assumed it was because of my news years plans. Or lack of them.
But that's the thing. I don't care about whether I stay at home or not, because I don't like partying. I wouldn't have minded staying home with a couple friends, but everyone wanted to go out and party. So i stayed home.
Either way. My sadness has nothing to do with new years.
I just feel so confused.
I don't know what I'm doing with my life. I wish I did. I wish I could just shut my eyes, open them after a few minutes and be hit with the answers to life's hardest questions.
But I can't do that.
I'm so sick of hiding. Pretending I'm someone I'm not. Caring about what people think. I'm so sick of feeling guilty because my life is perfect, and I'm still unsatisfied.
So it's currently 1 am. January 1st.
I'm not going to do this anymore.
I'm not gonna sit around wondering why I'm not satisfied. Wishing for things I've lost. Mooning over a lost love. Crying over betrayal.
I refuse to do that.
This year, a new Kim is going to be born. One that won't fall in love. One that won't get hurt. One that won't get kicked when she's down. One that won't trust as easily as she did.
The new Kim isn't gonna take shit from anyone.
Not like I do. Correction - did.
No, this year marks the start of something new. Something stronger.

Procrastinating my life away?

Failure of a day.
Today, I woke up at noon. Something I never do, because I think sleeping away at least four hours of your life in the morning, when you could be doing something productive, is a waste. When you could just do that sleeping at night instead of staring into space and letting thoughts eat at your brain. But I guess that's hypocritical of me to say, because that's exactly what I do. Oh well.
Instead of getting down to studying because I woke up so late, which would have been ideal for me to do considering the limited amount of hours I had left for this day to end, I procrastinated. I spent over an hour  eating breakfast, tearing away bits of bread and staring at them like bread was the most interesting thing on the planet.
After that, I attempted studying. Didn't concentrate much, though. Next thing I new, the whole day had passed by and I'd barely got anything done.
Waste of a day, I know.

heartbreak in a nutshell.

I hate love. I'm absolutely serious. That juxtaposition of words is completely true. Love has done nothing but turn my life upside down. Mess it up. Ruin it. Bowl me over.

 I remember what life was like before I fell in love. It was so simple and uncomplicated. I remember worrying about who my latest crush was texting, or what the most "in" hairstyle was, or something trivial and fun like that. But the second he walked into the room, all confidence and smirks, I knew I was done for. I knew he'd be bad news, but something inside me just refused to let him walk out of the room without knowing who I was.

It wasn't love at first sight, no. I don't believe in that. But it was love in first talk. I remember the first time he opened his beautiful lips (I'm not trying to be cheesy. They really were beautiful.) and said hello to me. It was like dying and being reborn - I'm not over-exaggerating, although it sure sounds like it, it sounds so silly when put down in words - and I'm quite sure I took over ten seconds to respond. I was nervous and fumbly. I most probably sounded like a total dork. But despite all that, he didn't run away screaming "OMG, she's weird!" so I guess I wasn't all that bad that night.

As we got closer over the months, my feelings kept building up until the point where it felt like my heart was about to burst into song. I remember someone telling me he was with someone else. I remember the shock I felt. I remember crying in a school bathroom stall, simply because he was with someone that was not me. I remember watching him from a distance for so long. Wishing he loved me. Not whatsherface.
I remember finding out it was a lie. He was never dating anyone! I remember the smile I had on my face that day. My love for him bloomed again.

Eventually I began dating him. but even then, I knew it was unrequited. He didn't love me like I loved him. Not even close. He cared for me, yes. But never loved me. Nevertheless, I appreciated his presence. Just having him around was enough for me.

He was amazing. I loved him so much, I was willing to do anything for him. If he'd called me up in the middle of night, I'd be willing to drop everything just to help him out. My friends used to shake their heads at me, tell me I was making a bad decision. They said I shouldn't be with him. They said I love him far too much, and that he didn't deserve it. "He's a player, Kim!" "He's going to rip your heart out."  "What is wrong with you? Don't fall in love with him!"
I didn't care. Not one bit. To me, he was... the ultimate. I didn't care what everyone said. He meant more to me than all my friends combined, and I care for my friends a lot.
So I didn't listen to them. No, instead. I defended him. I said he was capable of love. That they were judging him far too quickly. I lost a friend, too, along the way. I used to get angry when people said hurtful things to me about him, about how he didn't love me. I used to freak out, hit them too, sometimes. So I lost a friend. But I didn't care! He meant more to me than them. I was convinced that he wasn't the person that everyone said he was. I'd spent months getting to know him, and trying ti peel away his many layers. I'd been successful in peeling off many. And the more he let me in, the more I fell in love with him, because they were wrong. Everyone was wrong. He was beautiful. I loved him more than ever.

I remember how our relationship started it's downward spiral. I remember going days without meeting him and how that drove me crazy. I remember how he got distant, far to distant for me to handle. I remember our million fights and breakups, and how I just couldn't let go of him like I knew I should. I remember my depression, my sadness, my anger, my problems. I remember when we broke up for the final time, and how it crushed me when I realized that this was it. He was gone. I remember just how sad I was then. 'Sad' doesn't even come close to describing how I felt, then. Empty, broken, hollow, desperate. Yearning. Yearning for someone I lost - someone I never really had, no matter what I tell myself. He was never really mine.

Looking back now, I realize how I did not appreciate him as much as I should have. I wish I'd taken a snapshot of every moment we had together and locked it up in a special place in my head. I know that I will probably be in a serious relationship again in the future. I know I will find someone else, possibly someone better. But he will always be my first, and most importantly, my only love.

German

I'm starting to love studying the German language.
I wish I could continue next year.

Ich liebe Deutsch!

Busy doing nothing.

I'm sorry I haven't been posting much.
I'm starting to have a really tough time, lately. My mind is really busy, but I'm not doing anything productive. When I should be.
I used to be so confident about life and myself and what I was supposed to do, but now I just feel lost, distracted and unmotivated.
My brain seems to have switched off, as well. I should be using my time to study but instead I'm being consumed by thoughts that don't make sense half of the time.
Anyway, the point of this rant was just to apologize for being MIA most of the time. I hope I haven't lost any followers because of my lack of posting.
I really hope you will understand.
I promise I will try to get my life back on track soon, and you will get your posts again. Soon. Hopefully. :]

I hate baggy dresses.

Okay, I don't hate ALL baggy dresses. I mean, I'm sure there are people out there that really need them, like pregnant or obese women. In that case, ignore my pointless rant.
Anywho.
Baggy dresses. REALLY? I just don't see the appeal in them.

I was at Zara today, shopping with Amy, another diligent Zara worshipper. Zara was on a super sale right now, and of course, I can't resist a sale. I'm like a moth to a fire. Or a lamp. Or a bright object. Or whatever it is moths flock to and burn in. (In this case, it's burning a hole in my wallet.)
So I'm standing in line for the trial room, bored out of my senses and people-watching (as usual) when I see this woman with the figure of a bikini model pick out this hideously large, baggy dress that cut off right at mid-calf. That's another thing. I hate dresses that cut off at mid-calf. Even if you have fantastic killer legs, they still make them look stumpy. Why, why, why would people wear them?!
Anywho. This woman picks out the dress from the pile of smushed together discarded dresses. Totally expecting her to put it down with a look of disgust, I was about to turn away. But then she shocks me - She SMILES, and checks the price tag!
Oh, the HORROR!
And then, if my mind was not already reeling from the mind-numbing shock of someone SMILING at a baggy dress, she... She joins the line to the trial room! The dress in hand!
I must have stood there gaping with my mouth wide open for about ten minutes. (Or, okay, ten seconds. Whatever, tomato tomaato)
And then later - yes, I was watching her. No, I'm not a stalker - She BOUGHT IT!

I don't get it.
If you can fit into this -

Why would you wear this? -

...I honestly do not understand.

My Much-Awaited (I think?) Return.

I haven't been blogging for a while now. Truth is, I've been afraid of saying what I wanted to say, because I have so MUCH to say. Being opinionated has always brought me nothing but trouble. I figured I'd keep my mouth shut for once.
But why, and for what?
One thing I've learned in my fifteen years of life - Embrace yourself. I have a hell of a lot of flaws (They've been pointed out to me more than once) but so what? I can't honestly be expected to be perfect. No one should be.
Therefore, i am back. (Who cares if I run my moutha little too much? It's not like I have anything better to do, anyway)

There's something that's been nagging my mind for the past week. A lot of people (Well, okay, three people said that. But compared to the amount of people that I actually talk to, that is a lot) have said that I'm too "intense".
But last time I checked... Wasn't that a good thing?
I've always known myself to be emotional. I never thought it was a bad thing, until now.
I never thought something as simple as that could drastically change my life as much as it did.

I promised myself I would never change who I was. Not for a guy, not for my family, not for anyone. (I can be pretty stubborn when I want to be) Besides, everything was going perfectly for me. Why should I want to change myself?
That's when it all started to fall apart. Actually, fall apart aren't the appropriate words. That's when it all started to reveal itself. The silk ribbons that held my life in place turned out to be cheap cloth that simply tore away. Leaving nothing there, but a very confused me. What I thought was perfection was nothing but my imagination making things seem brighter than they were.

I stopped feeling alone a long time ago. Maybe it was because I finally opened myself up. Maybe it was because I finally felt accepted. Maybe it was just because I grew up.
Either way, I started to believe. Believe in happy endings. I finally opened up and trusted someone.

The thing with trust is that it can easily be broken.

I learned something from all of this, though. I learned that we shouldn't always believe that everyone can be trusted. They can't. You're always going to have those people, the ones that present you with fake smiles and empty promises. They're always going to feed you with words, words you think are filled with meaning, but in reality, are not.
In the end of the day, it's not the words that prove anything, it's the actions. It's the promises.
When someone breaks a promise, don't ever forgive them. Don't ever make the mistake of doling out second, third, fourth chances. Some people don't change, no matter how hard you push them towards it, no matter how hard you try.

As much as I hate to admit it, I agree with that old, cliche saying - "If you love something, let it go. If it doesn't return, then it was never yours." In a way, it makes perfect sense.

Some things are worth letting go.

Anger.

I have no emotions at this moment.
Well, one emotion.
I'm very, very angry. I'm so angry, I want to break things. I don't know why I'm angry. I just am.

I hate anger. It's horrible.
I especially hate my anger.
My anger is a unique kind of anger.
When I blow up, I....blow up. I scream at people, and I break things, and then I end up sobbing. The good thing? This only happens once in about three-four months.
The bad thing? This has happened thrice in the past week.

I don't know why I'm so angry, or what I'm angry at.
I just know that I'm so frustrated. I can feel the frustration in me and it's bubbling up to the point of insanity. I'm so frustrated with everything. And everyone.

And I have bloody friends that are telling me that I'm not the only one with problems. I KNOW that. I also know that I'm making a big deal out of nothing. i just can't help it.
How do you just...believe someone? When you have absolutely no reason to?

Oh, I hate....I don't know what I hate. I just hate something.

Why can't I, for ONCE, be HAPPY?
Why can't I just be bloody happy?

Kim, are you okay? Yes. Are you happy? Yes.

I'll tell you what I saw yesterday. I saw the sky. I saw the sky and I had these questions.

Everyone always asks questions. Why are we here? What are we here for? What is the purpose of this life?

My questions are much, much simpler than those.

Why do we want to know? 

Why do we want all these answers?

I thought about it last night, when I was crying because I was upset. I thought, why am I upset? What makes me upset? What makes me want to be upset?

Why do I react this way?

I wanted to know. I searched my mind, but I didn't have an answer.

But do you know what I thought? 

I'm starting to know the person I am. 

I'm starting to see differently. For a half a year, I was stuck in this silly little daze. I hated this. I hated everyone. I hated me.

Why do I hate me?

I shouldn't hate me.

That shouldn't be happening.

Life, to me, always seemed worthless. It never meant anything to me. A life is a life. One dies, a new one is born. It's a cycle. 

But I see differently now.

But life isn't worthless. Not mine, at least. If I wasn't alive, I wouldn't be having these thoughts. I wouldn't be smiling, or laughing, or crying, or weeping. I wouldn't exist.

I'm glad I exist.

I'm happy, lately. I'm happy because I'm overcoming the hard shell I had put myself in. I'm not nice to people. I'm not friendly. I'm not helpful.

Why not?

I'm going to get out of that.

You know what? I'm setting a goal for myself. I have to be happy. And if I become sad, I shall have to write it down. And every time I'm sad, I have to overcome it.

Because no matter how hard you try, you can't be happy unless you want to be happy.

Cold, heartless... and nice.

You know what's horrible? A lot of people are horrible.
Mostly the people that pretend to care but don't, not really. Those are horrible.
Because they want everyone to have this fantastic opinion of them. Because I don't know, it's so important to them. What everyone else thinks of them. Oh, yeah. They care. They care about their image.
I've been called selfish and a bitch and insensitive and egoistical so many times. Why? Just because I'm honest. because I'm plain, in-your-face honest. Because they can't handle that. They can't handle the blatant truth right there.
But I'm just doing everyone a favor.
Who are they helping?
If you're nice to someone and tell them you care about them just because you want them to be happy, technically it does make you selfish and heartless. So you are the selfish one. Not me. I'm not selfish because I tell you I hate you. You're selfish because you tell me you don't.
Do you want to know why? Because when someone tells you they love you, this part of you believes you. And that part of you relaxes and lets your guard down and open up to that particular person. But the thing is, it isn't true. They tell you they love you, but they don't. The word "love" is used to free and loosely. "I love you."
No, you don't. You don't even know me, but you're telling me you love me. You're telling me I'm your friend.
Am I? Am I, really?
Let me give you a situation.
Here I am. I'm vulnerable and I'm scared. I'm about to do something that will drastically alter my life. Would you drop everything, get up and come to me? Would you hold me while I cry? Would you cry with me?
No, you wouldn't.
See. You're lying. You don't love me. I shouldn't expect you to.
You're selfish. You say you love me because you want me to love you back. Because the more people that love you, the more people will talk about you, the more people will know about you, the more will love you. The more likable you will become. The more sought-after you will become.

See, that's selfish.

But me? I'm not selfish. I tell you. i tell you exactly how I feel. I don't care who you are. If you're someone I love to the point of bursting, I will tell you. If I hate you, hate you so much I can't even look at you without being filled with disgust, I wil tell you. And if I tell you I hate you, that actually saves you a lot of heartbreak. because If I hate you, and something happens to you, and you expect me to help and I don't, it doesn't matter. Because you shouldn't expect me to. Because, well, I never told you I'd be there for you. So you should be grateful I never promised. I spared you pain.

When I love someone. I really love them. People tell me that that's my problem. That I get too attached to someone. That I 'love' them too much.
Isn't that the damn point?
I love intensely. I love intensely and fully and completely.

If I tell you I love you, I really do love you. Inside me, there is something that remembers you.
I don't tell a lot of people I love them.

I love passionately, and with just enough hate to keep me going.

The next time you want to call me selfish, remember. I probably don't love you, or even care about you. So you won't affect me. Because you tell me you love me. But then you say, Kim, you're selfish. Kim, you're mean.
Kim, why are you like that? Kim, why can't you just like people? Kim, why can't you just be nice for once? God, Kim, you're such a bitch sometimes. But don't worry, I still love you. Don't worry, I'm here for you. Dont worry, I feel your pain! Don't worry. Don't worry.
Don't worry. I love you.

You're just like everyone else.

Cold, heartless... and nice.

Happy To The Point Of Bursting

Okay, I lied.
I am posting again today, but technically it was a half-truth. I just received some life-changing good news that jerked me out of hazy sleep-walk I'd been in the whole day.
Unfortunately, I cannot reveal the news yet. It's pretty awesome, though. It's been a hopeful dream for a long time now, and I just found out it IS going to be happening.
I'm so ecstatic, I can literally feel it flow through my veins and make my toes tingle.

Do you know what happens when you learn that something you've always secretly wished for, just appears suddenly out of blue? I'll tell you what happens.
You burst into these massive waves of happiness that makes you wonder why you were ever sad.
I honestly haven't been this happy in five months. It's shocking, really.
It's okay, though. It's okay, because for once I feel like everything is falling into place, and I can almost feel the broke pieces of me slowly melding into into each other to be whole again.

Don't worry; you shall know what it is. I won't keep you in suspense for long.
I mean this for everyone. No one shall know what it is now. No one.

The Awesomeness That Is RD - 1

Today is the laziest day I have ever experienced. I woke up at 10 - which is late for me; I usually wake up around 7 on weekends - and slept for three hours this afternoon. The air seems thick and everyone appears to be moving in slowww motiooonnn. 
But, today's post i going to be the opposite of boring. Because...today is going to be about the AWESOMENESS THAT IS RD.
You see, me, being extremely bored and very tired, logged into gtalk. While on gtalk, I was talking to my friend RD, while staring at the blank new-blog-post-page. He suggested I blog about either a)cricket or b) the awesomeness that is Ritish Desai.
Honestly? I do NOT want to blog about cricket. But the awesomeness that is Ritish Desai? Sure. That's something I want to blog about!


So. The Awesomeness That Is RD.
Let's see. RD. He's pretty awesome. He's kind of like a similar, toned-down version of Barney Stinson. If you don't know who Barney Stinson is, you don't deserve to be reading this blog.
This is what he just said a few minutes ago - "IVE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS SHIT

I SWEAR

ITS LIKE

WHOOOSH

INTO MY HEAD

AND IM LIKE

BANGGGG....POW....BOOOM

AND

BEFORE U KNOW IT

MY HEADS IN THOUSANDS OF PIECES"

That, is how awesome he is. 

He is currently planning to include me and Lea into a song. He's trying to get the band to play at school, and me and Lea are flute players, like him. (Although Lea and I are just beginners, me more so, because I keep missing music club. Which is not my fault. At all.) So he's trying to teach me these notes on IM, which isn't very easy. 

This is how he tried. -

"can u play e? 

top e

like

see

its just e

but 1 octave higher?

get it?"

And, when I did not get it -

"ok

see

u start with the a i told u

and keep going up

untill u reach e

so its

ure pinky

and ring finger

wil be up

all the other holes are covered

see

ill tell u why

cause

i found a part for ull in chasing cars

where ull can play the basic melody

like

the

ta na ta na

u get what im saying right?

(plz say yes or itll seem like im weird)"

Don't worry RD, weird is another word for awesome, remember? 

Anyway, I said yes. I did kind of get it. Slightly. Oh well. He said he would show me the notes on Monday, so that's good then. 

So, RD just asked me if I finished my bog post. I said I didn't, and he said "good, cause its not possible to write about my awesomeness in such a short period of time"

I have to agree with him! 

Unfortunately, because of how tired I am, I cannot think of anymore awesome things about RD. Which is shocking, because normal days, I would be furiously shouting, or in my case, typing, "RD IS SUCH A STUUUDDD." But this is all I have come up with today.

Don't worry, I am not done yet.

I am done for today, though.

I think I'm going to go sleep.