Damn it's been long
Wow it's been a while since I updated. I sound so depressed in the last entries from whenever. I guess I'm better now. I've never taken anti-depressiants or gone to counseling for my issues, and I only snapped out of my depression on my own, but I had a relapse when I started high school. I'll never know if I will have a relapse again, but there is the possibility of that occurring. I know I'm weird. Probably not normal. I'll most likely still searching for my "normal" ten years from now.
I did nothing today. School was so boring, but at least I could get out of it earlier because I don't have a class on the last band of the day. Tomorrow is the same, but Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday I have to stay up to 3:40 p.m. And the government is making my school extended by 10 minutes starting in February. They really have some nerve, but I guess I can live with it.
I don't know what's wrong with me lately, though. I feel really blah on things at school, and on my free bands I do homework when I sit by myself in the whichever resource center, but today I wrote like mad in the diary I brought to school. I started bring my diary to school starting in junior high school. I'd bring it to lunch and just write whatever I wanted in there -- anything to pass the unbearable time and to shut out everything around me. I never said I was trying to sound all deep and pitiful explaining stuff. It's just how I am. I do believe I am somewhat unstable when I have to deal with people. Believe me, it's not a good feeling to be bullied. Most people wouldn't give a damn and wouldn't want to put up with anyone's crap, but for me, I'm just too silent. When someone bullies me, I ignore them. But ... that is all I can do. And because I try to make myself believe every time that they would stop bothering me if I ignore them long enough, they are driven to prod at me even more. I guess I'm vulernable.
I really don't know why I am writing in this old livejournal. I have tons of diaries I have written in, and one I am currently writing in now. They are not online journals, but real life book journals I've kept. I don't have any way of knowing who would be reading this and thinking whatever, but I don't know anyone on this site. Even though I don't know who is reading this, I know the truth is definitely out there. And someone will come along to read this somewhere. After all, there are tons of people who have blogs or xangas or whatever they write in as a journalish type of thing online.
I haven't heard from Shachi in months. The last time she replied to an email of mine was in September of last year. I've written to her constantly, but the last letter I sent came back to me yesterday because of not enough postage. I'll be resending it tomorrow. I know I shouldn't be irrational about this because Shachi must be very bust. She has her own life to live, and though we are best friends, sometimes I feel like I hardly know her. Maybe it's my fault because I don't have the courage to dial her phone number or her cellphone number. I'm scared of speak on the phone because it's nervewrecking for me. It's like, What if she picks up the phone or if someone else answers the phone and then what am I supposed to say? I'd be half grateful if the answering message picked up so I could just leave a message. If I did, that message would probably me not even saying the things I want to say.
In the beginning, Shachi and I went under the circumstances that brought us together. We were both on fanfiction.net, and she reviewed one of my stories a number of times. I was still an aspiring fanfiction writer then, but I don't write anymore. I think my stuff sucks, so I deleted most of it off without any copies left behind. Some things are better left in your memories only. It's funny how that one sentence can make me remember so many things I went through thinking that line. Like that thing with Lydia. But I will most definitely not go into that subject again. Maybe I'll talk about it next time.
Happy New Year, I guess. It's a bit late to say that. My father says 2005 was the worst year ever. I agree with him because a lot of things happened. First of all, I got bullied pretty harshly at school in the middle of April-May. It was terrifying because I felt like I couldn't tell anyone, and if I did, I swear I would've cried because the whole dispute was so embarrassing for me. Since 2005 is over, I can rant now that the year is starting anew. I can honestly say that bitch who was harrassing me for money in that indication should go burn in hell. I am really understanding, more understanding than I have ever been in my entire life to see past people for the things they've done to me or the things they have done to others, but for that girl, I refuse to forgive. I just hate her with all my guts. I will never forget the look she gave me when she snatched away my money and smirked like she had proclaimed victory on me and said in the most sly, vicious tone, "Thank you" like I had given her that money. I wanted to slap her sideways until she bled. Instead I was left quivering like a small, frightened kitten. How it ended was more loathing, yet more relieving because somehow my brother found out about it. I will never dare to ask how he found out. I just don't want to remember the incident fully and just sit there to think about it anymore. I ended up being called to the Dean's office where my guidance counselor sat me down. At first I thought I was in trouble for the classes I had failed or the times in the past I skipped class (like an idiot I was then), but that wasn't it. The first words he said to me gave me a general hint of that it was something about school, but the second or third sentence he said left me in total shock. Never again do I want to relive such a moment.
I've always thought of myself as a failure. No matter what I do or no matter how hard I fall, I have to get back up. It hurts when I fall because there's a certain emotional pain I feel that affects me almost physically. And because I hurt, I feel as if it is the most terrible pain in the world so I don't want to get back up. It hurts, hurts, hurts and I'm crying and it feels as if the world is going to end, but it doesn't. I think I am really weak. That might not be the best word to describe myself, especially when I am using a negative word, but somehow it is the truth. I know there are people who are sick and tired of people whining all the time about how their life sucks and how people should just get some tough skin and bear it through like everyone else is, and sometimes that is true. Other times, it is not. If you tell someone that, think of how it will affect them. Lots of people have low self-esteem. People hurt. So even when you don't know you're hurting them or not, you should always choose your words carefully.
But there are some people who I believe will never understand they have to be gentle with certain people. Take a person who is depressed for example. You have to sound encouraging and kind to the person, not spitting out negative words and just saying whatever you want because you will impact that person negatively. I don't think my brother will never understand how much pain people have. He doesn't understand depression at all, and often has to laugh on subjects like racism or people who are overweight. He thinks people will self-mutilate themselves are hysterically funny. I frown upon him and I hate how he thinks. He has no consideration for peoples' feelings at all. Sometimes I think he is being so sincere, but then it's like, why does he have to be like that and be all prejudice about overweight people and what not? He acts like he knows what people are cutting themselves for, but he doesn't. He doesn't GET IT.
The last psychology class I took last cycle really helped me to learn a lot about what aspects affect a child's development and growth emotionally on the inside. Take Hitler for an example. He was a terrible man who slaughtered too many to count Jewish people, and not only that, he preyed on people he found unworthy of his "race". But I can look into his childhood and I know at the very beginning there was a child that was never good or evil, but because of the things he was exposed to as a child, they are what determined how he would grow up to be like. His father beat him constantly, and he flunked out of school. I know he wouldn't have turned out the way he had if he had been given love and affection. Just imagine how different things would be. There would've never been a dictator named Adolf Hitler. He would've never become so famous everyone knows who he is by the mention of his name. He would've probably lived and died without becoming what he had become if he hadn't lived the life he had. If only he lived a better life. I hear Hitler was a very good artist, but he was rejected by the art school he wanted to attend. If only he had been accepted, he would've never joined the army and later on turn to Nazism. It's just sad -- sad of what a perfectly normal child can grow up to become and what else he could have become. Perhaps if he didn't become that dictator, he would have been destined for other greatness. But it's not just Hitler. It's everyone. Think of all the possibilites a child's first years of life can impact how they grow up. Emotionally, physically ... I know what it's like. If I had grown up normally, that would've been okay. But I wasn't average. I was scared of school, and the people there frightened me so I couldn't talk to anyone except the best friend I had in kindergarten. I had trouble learning English in the beginning. I learned the basic alphabet, but then I couldn't spell. That got better, but I knew I was strange by my behavior. I was shy, and quiet too, but lively when I spoke to someone. I could describe myself as fragile too, because the first time my mother hit me I was stunned. I had never been exposed to such a thing; felt such a thing and it sent fear seeping into my blood. I had problems learning properly because when I didn't understand something, I didn't ever raise my hand to ask. And when I was bullied, I never said anything about it until the end.
I can think of everybody who has problems in this world. Everyone has problems; no matter how small they are, people are always facing hardships along the way. I wish I could learn to care about everyone though. I do care, but at times it feels like a burden to want to care so much. I have many obstacles after all because I can find a general dislike in someone who has bothered me. Sometimes I can forgive, other times I feel two sided on my decision. It's like I could probably look past their terrible deeds and think of the possibilites of how they became the way they have, but there's the other side of me that feels annoyed because that person did that to me. In other words, that person WANTED to me hurt me with real intentions. So it's like ... why should I care about someone if they are hurting me intentionally? That's why it hurts to care. And I don't mean just people who I know. I mean strangers too. Like I want to care about them all because everyone has a story to tell or something interesting about them or something in them that makes them not exactly bad as they can perceive themselves. Or how others perceive them. Right?
I did nothing today. School was so boring, but at least I could get out of it earlier because I don't have a class on the last band of the day. Tomorrow is the same, but Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday I have to stay up to 3:40 p.m. And the government is making my school extended by 10 minutes starting in February. They really have some nerve, but I guess I can live with it.
I don't know what's wrong with me lately, though. I feel really blah on things at school, and on my free bands I do homework when I sit by myself in the whichever resource center, but today I wrote like mad in the diary I brought to school. I started bring my diary to school starting in junior high school. I'd bring it to lunch and just write whatever I wanted in there -- anything to pass the unbearable time and to shut out everything around me. I never said I was trying to sound all deep and pitiful explaining stuff. It's just how I am. I do believe I am somewhat unstable when I have to deal with people. Believe me, it's not a good feeling to be bullied. Most people wouldn't give a damn and wouldn't want to put up with anyone's crap, but for me, I'm just too silent. When someone bullies me, I ignore them. But ... that is all I can do. And because I try to make myself believe every time that they would stop bothering me if I ignore them long enough, they are driven to prod at me even more. I guess I'm vulernable.
I really don't know why I am writing in this old livejournal. I have tons of diaries I have written in, and one I am currently writing in now. They are not online journals, but real life book journals I've kept. I don't have any way of knowing who would be reading this and thinking whatever, but I don't know anyone on this site. Even though I don't know who is reading this, I know the truth is definitely out there. And someone will come along to read this somewhere. After all, there are tons of people who have blogs or xangas or whatever they write in as a journalish type of thing online.
I haven't heard from Shachi in months. The last time she replied to an email of mine was in September of last year. I've written to her constantly, but the last letter I sent came back to me yesterday because of not enough postage. I'll be resending it tomorrow. I know I shouldn't be irrational about this because Shachi must be very bust. She has her own life to live, and though we are best friends, sometimes I feel like I hardly know her. Maybe it's my fault because I don't have the courage to dial her phone number or her cellphone number. I'm scared of speak on the phone because it's nervewrecking for me. It's like, What if she picks up the phone or if someone else answers the phone and then what am I supposed to say? I'd be half grateful if the answering message picked up so I could just leave a message. If I did, that message would probably me not even saying the things I want to say.
In the beginning, Shachi and I went under the circumstances that brought us together. We were both on fanfiction.net, and she reviewed one of my stories a number of times. I was still an aspiring fanfiction writer then, but I don't write anymore. I think my stuff sucks, so I deleted most of it off without any copies left behind. Some things are better left in your memories only. It's funny how that one sentence can make me remember so many things I went through thinking that line. Like that thing with Lydia. But I will most definitely not go into that subject again. Maybe I'll talk about it next time.
Happy New Year, I guess. It's a bit late to say that. My father says 2005 was the worst year ever. I agree with him because a lot of things happened. First of all, I got bullied pretty harshly at school in the middle of April-May. It was terrifying because I felt like I couldn't tell anyone, and if I did, I swear I would've cried because the whole dispute was so embarrassing for me. Since 2005 is over, I can rant now that the year is starting anew. I can honestly say that bitch who was harrassing me for money in that indication should go burn in hell. I am really understanding, more understanding than I have ever been in my entire life to see past people for the things they've done to me or the things they have done to others, but for that girl, I refuse to forgive. I just hate her with all my guts. I will never forget the look she gave me when she snatched away my money and smirked like she had proclaimed victory on me and said in the most sly, vicious tone, "Thank you" like I had given her that money. I wanted to slap her sideways until she bled. Instead I was left quivering like a small, frightened kitten. How it ended was more loathing, yet more relieving because somehow my brother found out about it. I will never dare to ask how he found out. I just don't want to remember the incident fully and just sit there to think about it anymore. I ended up being called to the Dean's office where my guidance counselor sat me down. At first I thought I was in trouble for the classes I had failed or the times in the past I skipped class (like an idiot I was then), but that wasn't it. The first words he said to me gave me a general hint of that it was something about school, but the second or third sentence he said left me in total shock. Never again do I want to relive such a moment.
I've always thought of myself as a failure. No matter what I do or no matter how hard I fall, I have to get back up. It hurts when I fall because there's a certain emotional pain I feel that affects me almost physically. And because I hurt, I feel as if it is the most terrible pain in the world so I don't want to get back up. It hurts, hurts, hurts and I'm crying and it feels as if the world is going to end, but it doesn't. I think I am really weak. That might not be the best word to describe myself, especially when I am using a negative word, but somehow it is the truth. I know there are people who are sick and tired of people whining all the time about how their life sucks and how people should just get some tough skin and bear it through like everyone else is, and sometimes that is true. Other times, it is not. If you tell someone that, think of how it will affect them. Lots of people have low self-esteem. People hurt. So even when you don't know you're hurting them or not, you should always choose your words carefully.
But there are some people who I believe will never understand they have to be gentle with certain people. Take a person who is depressed for example. You have to sound encouraging and kind to the person, not spitting out negative words and just saying whatever you want because you will impact that person negatively. I don't think my brother will never understand how much pain people have. He doesn't understand depression at all, and often has to laugh on subjects like racism or people who are overweight. He thinks people will self-mutilate themselves are hysterically funny. I frown upon him and I hate how he thinks. He has no consideration for peoples' feelings at all. Sometimes I think he is being so sincere, but then it's like, why does he have to be like that and be all prejudice about overweight people and what not? He acts like he knows what people are cutting themselves for, but he doesn't. He doesn't GET IT.
The last psychology class I took last cycle really helped me to learn a lot about what aspects affect a child's development and growth emotionally on the inside. Take Hitler for an example. He was a terrible man who slaughtered too many to count Jewish people, and not only that, he preyed on people he found unworthy of his "race". But I can look into his childhood and I know at the very beginning there was a child that was never good or evil, but because of the things he was exposed to as a child, they are what determined how he would grow up to be like. His father beat him constantly, and he flunked out of school. I know he wouldn't have turned out the way he had if he had been given love and affection. Just imagine how different things would be. There would've never been a dictator named Adolf Hitler. He would've never become so famous everyone knows who he is by the mention of his name. He would've probably lived and died without becoming what he had become if he hadn't lived the life he had. If only he lived a better life. I hear Hitler was a very good artist, but he was rejected by the art school he wanted to attend. If only he had been accepted, he would've never joined the army and later on turn to Nazism. It's just sad -- sad of what a perfectly normal child can grow up to become and what else he could have become. Perhaps if he didn't become that dictator, he would have been destined for other greatness. But it's not just Hitler. It's everyone. Think of all the possibilites a child's first years of life can impact how they grow up. Emotionally, physically ... I know what it's like. If I had grown up normally, that would've been okay. But I wasn't average. I was scared of school, and the people there frightened me so I couldn't talk to anyone except the best friend I had in kindergarten. I had trouble learning English in the beginning. I learned the basic alphabet, but then I couldn't spell. That got better, but I knew I was strange by my behavior. I was shy, and quiet too, but lively when I spoke to someone. I could describe myself as fragile too, because the first time my mother hit me I was stunned. I had never been exposed to such a thing; felt such a thing and it sent fear seeping into my blood. I had problems learning properly because when I didn't understand something, I didn't ever raise my hand to ask. And when I was bullied, I never said anything about it until the end.
I can think of everybody who has problems in this world. Everyone has problems; no matter how small they are, people are always facing hardships along the way. I wish I could learn to care about everyone though. I do care, but at times it feels like a burden to want to care so much. I have many obstacles after all because I can find a general dislike in someone who has bothered me. Sometimes I can forgive, other times I feel two sided on my decision. It's like I could probably look past their terrible deeds and think of the possibilites of how they became the way they have, but there's the other side of me that feels annoyed because that person did that to me. In other words, that person WANTED to me hurt me with real intentions. So it's like ... why should I care about someone if they are hurting me intentionally? That's why it hurts to care. And I don't mean just people who I know. I mean strangers too. Like I want to care about them all because everyone has a story to tell or something interesting about them or something in them that makes them not exactly bad as they can perceive themselves. Or how others perceive them. Right?