pick, pick .

i’m not a compassionate, loving person. i don’t pretend to be. i don’t like a lot of things. i don’t like a lot of people. i’ve never, throughout my life, seen the best in people. in fact, a lot of the time i sift out bad parts of people who are probably very good. it’s not that i’m a mean spirited person; i was just born to be a critic.

flaws. they’re everywhere. i just can’t ignore them. in myself they’re ever noticable and prevalent. i know they’re there, i try to fix them, if i can’t then too bad. but in other people, errors jump out at me and cannot be overlooked until redeemed. a language fault, a malapropism, a slip in grammar, an error in judgement or just something stupid overall. big red sign glaring overhead.

relinquished .

it is so very difficult to move when one has so many possessions. too many clothes, too many hair accessories, too much trash, not enough shoes. when they’re being packed into a box, piece by piece, awaiting the arrival into my next life, i must consider if i want to bring them at all.

consequently, i find myself leaving a lot behind, sometimes to others and sometimes to landfill. when i evacuated my parents’ residence, i gave up my collection of hats and a great number of soft toys. i also overlooked the importance of some of the items i gave up, such as my (very expensive) suitcase and my sleeping bag. but time, rather than need and want, i think, will heal these voids.

hole in the head .

these korean butter waffles are driving me insane. on impluse i bought a box on the way home, and i’ve been home for about 20 minutes devouring more than half the box.

the taste it leaves on my tongue just makes me want to keep eating it. it’s horrible.

i think arnotts or something should pay a couple of million dollars for the recepie and unleash it upon the western world, and then we’ll all be fatter than we were before.

i noticed recently that christmas, in fact, isn’t very far away. it is now the end of october. this year’s hsc will soon be done, uni exams will be finished and everybody’s life is just about to become one long holiday.

the cornerstone .

since i was young, i’ve always loved to write. there’s some inexplicable enjoyment in being able to express oneself with words, even if you’re the only one that reads it, over and over again.

i’ve always had so many ideas (mostly copied, i admit), and i wish that i could turn them into a story of my own.

so whenever i was sad, i’d write. whenever i was angry, annoyed, distraught. whenever i felt something. and i came to realise that writing with these emotions made a piece or a story worthwhile.

during my younger years i wrote short stories about little asian girls that hated their parents because they were controlling and never happy.

heroin .

something i’ve always known about myself is that i like sad things. not in the way that i’m sadistic and enjoy inflicting pain upon others. rather in the way that i have a strange attraction towards novels, sad films, sad poetry and other sad immaterial things.

at many times of my life i have found myself reading a sad novel, crying my eyes out and then hugging it to sleep. devastated by its completion, i will then turn around and read it again, a million times over.

and i fall in love with its pain all over again. i fall in love with the characters as i live vicariously through them and hurt as they do, enjoying every moment. that is the kind of crazy person i am.

weeds .

everybody is growing up.

i never thought i’d come to a point in my life where everyone was so free. it’s so weird. i forget what it was like to not be allowed to do something. to not be allowed to stay out. to not be given extra money for lunch. but i always had plenty of money for lunch.

i don’t remember the feeling of anger and frustration directed towards my parents when they said no.

i can’t seem to relive those feelings and the thoughts that crossed my mind. those issues all seem so trivial now. does that even happen anymore?

individual… really ?

if you put twenty people in the same room sat them in a circle, and then gave them all a pen, a piece of paper and an apple to describe, something miraculous will happen. these twenty people will all find their own separate ways, with completely different wording and phrases, to say things about the apple.

even if you gave them the same apple and rotated it so that they could see the dents on the other side, the sentences they construct would still be worded differently.

isn’t it amazing that every human brain is so unique? i mean, how many ways can you describe a fucking apple? if you asked me to re-word my answer twenty times i’d need to use the thesaurus.

look .

haven’t had anything impersonal enough to share lately, so i didn’t blog. still don’t have much, but i figured i should make an effort.

my newest obsession, something jess got me addicted to, is lookbook. it’s really just a collection of people that think they’re hot, posting photos of clothes that they think are hot. most of the time they actually are hot. sometimes not so much. i feel so privileged to be part of such a shallow society.

however, because there are really a whole lot of attractive people on this site, i have been staring at too many photos trying to figure out how it’s possible to make myself look as such.