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As much as I'd like to deny it, it was actually my first time doing things for myself by myself. Thing is, I'm nineteen. Anyway, today, I bought stuff, and ate at a fancy restaurant. Going shopping, buying the things without anyone's approval, calling for the waiter, ordering, asking for the bill, those were all new to me. I mean, don't get me wrong, I've tried eating out, but that was always with family or huge company, never by myself, so I didn't ever get the chance to try.
It was nice. It was really, really nice.
A day with mum.
Just me and mum. That hasn't happened in like thousands of years. Both my sisters were out, so it was just the two of us. We went out, too. We had late lunch, looked around for a bit, bought stuff, then went back home. It was really nice. I mean, it doesn't happen all the time, so yeah. I really liked today. I know we did nothing special, but today was special to me nevertheless. I guess it's true what they say that it's not about what you did, it's about who you did it with.
Sometimes, you just know when to keep talking and when to shut the fuck up.
You see it, you know, there are signs that you wouldn't be able to help but notice. Even when they're not saying anything at all (come to think of it, not saying anything at all is a good enough sign already that they're not interested), their eyes would reveal it for them. They would either project some reaction that you didn't exactly go for, or simply just look blank, expressionless, giving away their zero understanding due to non-listening due to utter lack of interest.
Once you start having sex, you don't stop.
It's true. I mean, I know I'm in no proper position to say that for I have never even tried doing the act myself, but I just know ok. It's just one of those things that you would find superbly hard to resist once initiated. It feels good, so why not just always go for it, do it all the time, right? But it doesn't only apply to sex either. It goes for other things, too, such as this a-little-too-personal-to-share sitch I'm currently struggling with right now.
One thing I constantly find myself wishing for: To lose weight.
I've been wanting that for as long as I can remember. I don't even know when and where it started. All I know is I want it, I want it, I want it. All these years I've been trying and trying, but I don't think just strongly willing it to happen is trying enough. Yes, though it pains me to admit, I never really tried. I don't get concrete results because I don't do anything concrete in the first place. I just love food too much. I'll die fat.
Last song syndrome.
And you call me up again just to break me like a promise
So casually cruel in the name of being honest
I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here,
'Cause I remember it all, all, all too well
"All Too Well"
You know when there's a certain part of a song that really gets to you? Perhaps it's because of the way the singer sang that part, so filled with emotion you could feel it to your bones, or perhaps it's because of the lyrics, words so perfectly put together you could cry.
Lately, I've been having these headache thingies. With the "thingies", because I don't even know if I could call them headaches. It's not your typical headache, you see. It doesn't do the throbbing pain normal headaches usually do, nor the stabbing kind. It doesn't hurt, my head is literally not aching. It's this different kind, one I've never encountered my entire life (which is the reason why I don't know what to call it in the first place). When it's triggered, my head, like, squeezes, and I then would find it really hard to breathe. Maybe I'm dying. How lovely.
I hate when people make promises they can't keep.
I know how common that is, hating when people can't keep promises, but just, like, what the fuck? I mean, why make the promise at all? Why bother spouting off words you don't even mean, you couldn't even mean? Things you have no real intention of doing at all? Do you know how it feels to trust someone, put your faith completely, because you have full confidence that they would actually stick to what they told you? Do you know how it feels to believe, expect, only to be let down?
What I'm feeling right now.
First off, I am sad. And disappointed. And hurt. Like I have some heavy brick of metal (brick? of metal? what?) object thingy in my chest. And I'm wearing this disgustingly ugly frown only I could pull off. And I think I'm about to cry. Oh shit, I'm really gonna cry. God, self. No, stop it. Do. Not. Cry. Ah, fuck. Tears, they're disobedient little shits. Fuck you, guys. Fine, go ahead, keep falling. Keep falling, you fucktards. Man, I feel like eating. Custard cake. Custard, because it rhymes with fucktard. I am awesome. No. :(
The world is so polluted.
The world is so polluted. You see trash on the streets, the sidewalks, the roads, every corner you look, everywhere. There's dust and dirt, grime and grit in every inch of its earthy soil. Dumps heavily swarmed with most unwelcome flies, gutters brimming with filthy rodents and unmentionable pests. There's ink in the waters when there isn't supposed to be any, there are clouds in the skies that aren't quite real clouds after all. Evidence of rottenness at any direction you look, left and right.
The world is so polluted; it is filled with people.
Oh how quickly money would cease to exist. Last time you checked, you still had it. All was well, your pot was filled with shining, shimmering gold coins, overflowing in its abundance. Then, all of a sudden, as if some god or deity had randomly just taken interest in making one human miserable, with just one simple deciding order, like some work of magic (which is sort of is in this given situation, since I mentioned gods), off your money goes to the Land of Disappearance, swallowed and never to return again.
And then there was none.
Let's just play pretend.
Let's just play pretend, because right now, in the aspect of concreteness and tangibility, we are basically as good as not happening at all.
Let's just play pretend, because reality's still unavailable at this point of our lives. Maybe someday in the future we'll finally get our time, finally have the chance to make it happen, but at this certain chapter, no.
Let's just play pretend, because, even when it's pathetic most times and even when it makes us look like stupid idiots, that's the only thing we have that's keeping us from being completely nonexistent.
When he looks at me.
If a person just keeps looking at me, staring so intently (be it out of adoration or spite, it doesn't matter), I get highly uncomfortable and intolerably uneasy. I hate feeling like that. But there's this special guy. His name's Tony. When he looks at me, part of me (out of habit or my own default nature, probably) still gets the expected uneasy feeling that normally comes with it, but another part of me actually doesn't mind. Why? God knows. I've been trying to think of an answer myself, but couldn't come up with any.
Everyone around me arguing and squabbling all about some highly insignificant, pathetically pointless issue I couldn't give a hair of a damn about. I'm just sitting here, completely content with all the fucks I couldn't give, but at the same time feeling quite uncomfortable with the presently unraveling fact that they're willing to waste their precious time on such stupid, little thing. I'm here typing this annoyance-tinged entry about how I could barely stand them, while also mentally praying they'll stop it with their crap-babbling and commanding them to shut their massive verbal orifices at the same time.
So our trainer since yesterday? Can you spell beautiful? I bet if you do that, you'll come up with her face. No, not just her face, really. Her entire freaking everything. Her eyes, her nose, eyebrows, hair, face, body, voice. Plus, she has this super nice, regal-ish air with her that exudes intellect. As in, the your highness sort. Can I cry? O Self-esteem, my self-esteem, wherefore art thou, my self-esteem? Where hath thy gone? In what corner hath thou cowered off to after being presented with such ethereal beauty, an epitome of the Earth's injustice?
It's another 16th. Ten months now. And counting.
But contrary to what you're most likely starting to think, today wasn't all celebration, either. It was even a no-day for me. You see, I stayed up all night. Up till morning when he got on. We were able to talk, but just for a little bit. When I finally went to bed, I slept the entire day off. I woke up at 10:30. He already went to bed. So yeah. But hey, at least we had earlier today. Ten months. And still so inlove. I hope this doesn't change.
I'm at Vanille. I'm eating Lemongrass crème brûlée, and drinking mango shake. Two lady college students from another school used to sit on my right, but they left. There's a group of grown ups (one female, two normal males and one Indian male) on my left. I have no idea what they're talking about, but it looks like it's something important. I'm thinking maybe a wedding? Meh. I don't know. And I don't care. Sigh. I wish they had carbonara. But this is pretty good, too. Sigh. I wish you were here, eating with me.
I have the best family and friends ever. My mum is amazing, she's very supportive and not controlling. My sisters are great (as usual), and we're super close (again, as usual). My dad is here and nowhere, which is how I prefer it to be. My friends around me, they're awesome people. My boyfriend, the best person to ever walk this planet. They love me, and I love them right back very much. So why do I still feel like this?
They say you have to surround yourself with good people, but what happens if the problem is within you?
On eating McDonald's.
With each piece of french fry that I push inside my big mouth, I can feel myself getting fatter and fatter. I can feel the scale getting more and more to the right, pounds getting higher and higher. I can feel the generation of very much unwanted fats inside me. I can feel everything, my stomach, my skin, everything stretching to accommodate the added mass. I can feel the gravity's pull getting stronger and stronger, I can feel myself sinking lower and lower in my bed due to my increasing weight.
But I keep eating anyway. Bullshit.
The weather today was crazy.
At first, the sun was shining bright. So bright it could blind everyone (even those rodents hiding in the deepest darkest corners of cold gutters). It was rainbows and butterflies. All was well. But, like a couple of nanoseconds later, dark clouds came and filled the skies. And then there was rain. The kind of rain that makes one think of the end of the world. Like it has the intention of drowning us all. Then the sun came back, erasing every single sign of the rain.
We're okay. We made it. We always do. :)
I hate you.
You are the most despicable person to ever walk this planet, I swear. You are the worst. I hate you. I can't believe I was actually considering to give you another chance, to actually really forgive you. What a big mistake could it have been! Just shows how stupid a person could get. I thought it was finally time, you know, despite all your little disagreeable traits. And as a proof that I wasn't just saying that, I even bought you a Christmas present. I really did. Well, supposed-to-be Christmas present now. I hate you.
Three things I would always remember for today:
Jeremiah Jensen from Los Angeles, California. He was the best. He didn't get irate. Not bad for my first live call.
My stupidity. During my call, everything went well, but by the end, stupid me was stupid. Stupid. I hated myself so much I cried. Worst feeling ever. Oh well, nothing we can do about it. Sigh.
Moving on, the last thing I'd always remember for today is my boyfriend. He turned my day around by singing
by Hannah Montana. Made me laugh like crazy. God, I love that guy.
Why the sixteenth, though?
I mean for the closing date here on 100words. I can't think of any special reason as to why it should be the sixteenth. Why not the fifteenth? Or the fourteenth? Seventeenth? I could go on and on for all the other dates of the month, so why the sixteenth? Oh, I know why! Goodness, I can't believe I didn't notice. That date is my boyfriend and I's monthsary, that's why! Oh wow, 100words I am so honored for this one. My boyfriend and I both. Thanks so much, guys. We appreciate it.
I've gone mad.
Dearest cha eyes shining bright
with beauty overwhelming
underneath this moon light
Everyday with you has been a dream come true
nothing could age our love
for nothing even compares to you
You are worth all the riches and gold
one man could ever claim
us together to grow old
Together we shall pass all life's hardships
with never ending patience
we shall keep our friendship
You will be mine always
holding my hand and my heart for all our days
My love as this poem comes to a end
You will always be my lover and my best friend
Something about leftovers boggles me. They taste a little better. They do, don't they? Maybe it's the fridge. Maybe it's the food. Maybe they really just naturally get better in time. Or maybe, maybe it's because of the fact that when you eat it, you know that's the last of it. Before, you had so much food that you weren't able to appreciate them at all. But eating now, when you know that you have nothing but those leftovers left, you'll learn to appreciate them and love them. Or maybe you're just hungry, everything just tastes better when you're hungry.
I don't know if you'd call it fainting, but I prefer to call it a momentary black out. One moment I was standing up, next thing I knew, I was already on the floor, both Peter and Miki coming towards me saying,
"Are you okay?"
, and I'm like,
"Was that real?"
. Seriously, I thought I was dreaming. Except when I fell down, I felt it. It didn't hurt, really, I just felt it. I cried out of shame. Shame not because I fell, but because I felt really weak then, a real failure. I was tired, so tired.
No more fainting today. It was failing this time. And I'm not sure I really like that.
Today I failed on mock certification for the first time. But the weird thing is, somehow, I knew it was going to happen. I'm not just saying that like some sort of defense mechanism or whatsoever. Really, I knew. When they called me and said it was my turn, I was so shocked I lost myself, my everything. From the moment I sat on my station, I knew. I even shooed Peter away to avoid humiliating myself infront of him. It was bad.
My dad ruins everything. He's the worst of the worst. Trust me when I say he sucks. He stinks (literally as well). He does things out of spite or jealousy, never (and by never I mean never) out of what's proper and righteous. He's arrogant, he's mean. He's horribly immature. He enjoys crushing hopes and dreams, killing joy and happiness in his past time (which, if I may say so, he has quite an abundance of). He can't be happy with his life so he makes other people's lives miserable instead. That's my dad. Ain't he just wonderful?
I've just had an epiphany.
Oh glorious heavens, why haven't I thought of this before? So I have troubles with coming up entries for my 100words, right? And at the same time I keep complaining about my life being such a bore, a routine so monotonous that could bring one to jump off a cliff? So here's the thing: Do something extraordinary everyday, on a daily basis. It doesn't have to be, like, super grand or something, just something you wouldn't normally do. Something out of your routine, say, getting arrested. Haha just kidding, but you know what I mean. ;)
The more you fail, the more you get used to it. The more you experience a certain thing, the higher your tolerance for that specific thing will be. It's true. I've been there. Before, a little imperfection would send me off to a corner, crying like a baby. But now, after being exposed to failing multiple times, I'm okay. The first time I failed, I cried. The second time, I was fine. I mean, what the hell, I used to be that person who doesn't give a fuck. What's happened to me that made me start caring so much lately?
You say I mean the most to you, but why this? You don't do this to the person who means the most to you. You say you really didn't have time, but no. You have to make time for them. No matter how difficult the situation is, you would always try to make time. You say you miss me, but do you really? I feel you're not even giving a single thread of effort to change that. You say you're sorry, but I don't need your apology. I don't need your words. I've had enough of your empty words.
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