Just now, I have decided that I will forever keep a record of my thoughts/self. I’ll write whatever comes into mind down with as much honesty as I want and then re-read these posts and laugh at myself in the future.
I don’t know why, but lately I’ve been feeling really morose. It normally happens at around 1am. I have nothing to do, no one to talk to (as in social talk) and just no interest in anything at all. I’m even struggling to continue writing this post. Sure, I could practise guitar, housework, homework, read, brush my teeth, draw, but I just don’t want to do anything.
I feel like I’m wasting myself. I could be studying, working, helping, but I’m just sitting here procrastinating. I want to live so many live in many different countries with different people, different school, different jobs, different family, different appearance, different everything. I want to live my life, and I know I’m wasting it right now by procrastinating, but what can I do? I really can’t wait until I’m older.
Yes, I know. I am sounding really dramatic and making something out of nothing (making nothing out of nothing? There really is no outcome to my doing nothing), but I’m allowed to. I’m 14 and hormonal and want do to something fun. My idea of fun: night time, drinking too many cups of extra sweet Lipton Black tea, flipping the television channel from ABC to SBS, antique roadshow, watching documentaries, Triple J, cool movies, listening to classical/indie/alt/world music, eating fruit, fiction being alone.
“If you are lonely when you're alone, you are in bad company” -- Jean-Paul Sartre
I quite like being alone. When I’m alone I can do what I want and be completely selfish. That’s why I’m always cooped up in my room.
Recent happenings: Mother had minor surgery on her hand (I don’t even know why. Some daughter I am), bought a guitar and taking lessons, reading My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult and The Messenger by Markus Zuask
I have a blog, but I don’t post things there much. This thing I’m writing now could be posted there, but there’s just this thing that keeps me from writing blogs. Sure, blogs are like an internet diary, but ‘blogging’ sort of defies the whole reason for a diary. In a diary you write down anything you want and it is kept a secret forever (unless your bitch of a sibling finds it and invade your privacy) and you can be yourself. Your diary is something that listens to you without interruption or judgement. It is always there when you need something to bitch to. However when blogging, your writing is posted on the net and your friends, family, strangers, paedophiles, stalkers have access to your personal everything. And when/if they do read it of course they’re going to judge you. So there you go. Why I don’t write blogs.
I guess me writing things on my laptop is somewhat of a compromise.
Currently, I have to read the book Peeling the Onions by some God-awful author whose name is not worth remembering for english class. Fuck, it’s so boring. It’s barely 200 pages, but it takes me over an hour to read one 10 paged chapter! This stupid bitch of a protagonist just thinks! Nothing happens in the story, it’s just her lame, clichéd, girly, 17 year old thinking. And somehow, my english teacher somehow finds this book fascinating.
Added Aug, 31st: I deleted a paragraph of a rant about a certain topic that was quite offensive. The whole paragraph in a sentence: I am an atheist, but respect others and their opinions.
How do I end this thing? Goodbye.
