Are you ready for this?
Hello people in the livejournal world! I feel that it’s time I regretfully announce what you’ve stumbled upon. This is not a simple angsty teenage journal compilation. You’re reading the biography of the mind of Arlie Marie, and that’s one of the most complex of all minds you can ever enter. This will probably bore you for the most part, because I’ll spend a lot of my time talking about a boy no one every wants to hear about. I’ll post sections of conversations we have and bitch about things he says and things I say and things I wish I would have said and things I wish I wouldn’t have said.. I’ll post images of stupid things you’d rather not see and laugh at stupid things that people don’t laugh about and it’ll just be a grand time for me. This is just a taste of what you’re up for. In honor of this uncalled for explanation, I’m going to do my first entry as a biography of the mind of Arlie. It’ll be extremely fun, trust me! And you’ll hope for a daily entry and probably get nothing. But actually you won’t hope for anything of the sort, because after this the directions for going on with your life are simple. Step one- step into a time machine. Step two- go back 30 minutes. Step three A- Don’t get on livejournal. Step 3 B- Don’t come to my livejournal ever again.
And now for the introduction.
I’m Arlie. I’m a pretty complex person. I spend the majority of every day thinking about things that make me cry. I’m an empath. Yeah, that’s the world empathy without the y. Look it up and you’ll know partially how my mind works. Speaking of how the mind works, did you know everyone is extremely demented? Yeah, we laugh at things that aren’t funny at all or find ourselves fascinated with things no one should find fascinating. I believe that everyone thinks the same. Some of us think about things and worry that we should be put into a mental institution. Some people embrace it. Some of us ignore that and act as if nothing ever goes on in their mind. Some people try to ignore it and drive themselves mad because they aren’t able to do it. Some people refuse to believe they’re like everyone else. They either lie about these thoughts or block them out so well that they can literally appear to be different.. but when they dream at night, those thoughts come. Those thoughts won’t let you hide. Where do you stand? What kind of person are you? Oh, that’s another thing. I get off track very often. I’m extremely ADD, so reading these entries will be equally a chore as it may be entertaining and/or something you likewise will wish you never read. I will complain when you write fragments. I’ll write a lot of fragments. I hate people who use bad grammar. I have horrible grammar. I look at my fingers when I type and have more typos than anyone should ever have. I hate the phrase “pet peeve.” I’m very much a hypocrite. I spent the majority of my childhood being picked on by my brother. Manipulation was an everyday experience. In fact, I wouldn’t doubt that I have been victim to this nearly my entire life starting with my brother and then myself and moving into friendships that have lasted and ended and restarted. It’s most definitely a factor in my present time. My first boyfriend broke up with me and dated all of my friends. This probably traumatized me. He and I are good friends now, but I suck at relationships. In fact, I chase away anyone who’s willing to be with me and chase after people who don’t deserve an ounce of my time. I’m one of the most loving people you’ll ever meet. I trust anyone and everyone, no questions asked. I give. I smile. I laugh. I breathe. I get angry. I blow up at people. I make fun of people. I’m hateful- I can say extremely horrible things. I sometimes wish I couldn’t speak at all. I would also love to go back to a time when I knew nothing and believed everything. Everything was much simpler then. Most days I don’t like who I am. I wish I could fall out of love.. but everyone I’ve ever loved is still with me and still eats away at my heart. Even seeing him with his baby hurts. Even seeing him at his new job hurts. When his mother talks to me and tells me how he’s doing so well, I wish she’d choke. I wish he was doing horrible. I happy that he’s happy. I’m angry that he’s happy. I have a love hate relationship with myself. I love my body. I hate my body. I love my personality. I hate my traits. I love my eloquence. I hate my passion. I hate it when I lie. I hate it when I’m too brutally honest. I’d really like to know how I became this fucked up. That would be an amusing story.
This should have prepared you for whatever you’re going to read after this. If you aren’t prepared by now nothing will prepare you. Ask to be friends and see what happens.
This is Arlie, signing out.
And now for the introduction.
I’m Arlie. I’m a pretty complex person. I spend the majority of every day thinking about things that make me cry. I’m an empath. Yeah, that’s the world empathy without the y. Look it up and you’ll know partially how my mind works. Speaking of how the mind works, did you know everyone is extremely demented? Yeah, we laugh at things that aren’t funny at all or find ourselves fascinated with things no one should find fascinating. I believe that everyone thinks the same. Some of us think about things and worry that we should be put into a mental institution. Some people embrace it. Some of us ignore that and act as if nothing ever goes on in their mind. Some people try to ignore it and drive themselves mad because they aren’t able to do it. Some people refuse to believe they’re like everyone else. They either lie about these thoughts or block them out so well that they can literally appear to be different.. but when they dream at night, those thoughts come. Those thoughts won’t let you hide. Where do you stand? What kind of person are you? Oh, that’s another thing. I get off track very often. I’m extremely ADD, so reading these entries will be equally a chore as it may be entertaining and/or something you likewise will wish you never read. I will complain when you write fragments. I’ll write a lot of fragments. I hate people who use bad grammar. I have horrible grammar. I look at my fingers when I type and have more typos than anyone should ever have. I hate the phrase “pet peeve.” I’m very much a hypocrite. I spent the majority of my childhood being picked on by my brother. Manipulation was an everyday experience. In fact, I wouldn’t doubt that I have been victim to this nearly my entire life starting with my brother and then myself and moving into friendships that have lasted and ended and restarted. It’s most definitely a factor in my present time. My first boyfriend broke up with me and dated all of my friends. This probably traumatized me. He and I are good friends now, but I suck at relationships. In fact, I chase away anyone who’s willing to be with me and chase after people who don’t deserve an ounce of my time. I’m one of the most loving people you’ll ever meet. I trust anyone and everyone, no questions asked. I give. I smile. I laugh. I breathe. I get angry. I blow up at people. I make fun of people. I’m hateful- I can say extremely horrible things. I sometimes wish I couldn’t speak at all. I would also love to go back to a time when I knew nothing and believed everything. Everything was much simpler then. Most days I don’t like who I am. I wish I could fall out of love.. but everyone I’ve ever loved is still with me and still eats away at my heart. Even seeing him with his baby hurts. Even seeing him at his new job hurts. When his mother talks to me and tells me how he’s doing so well, I wish she’d choke. I wish he was doing horrible. I happy that he’s happy. I’m angry that he’s happy. I have a love hate relationship with myself. I love my body. I hate my body. I love my personality. I hate my traits. I love my eloquence. I hate my passion. I hate it when I lie. I hate it when I’m too brutally honest. I’d really like to know how I became this fucked up. That would be an amusing story.
This should have prepared you for whatever you’re going to read after this. If you aren’t prepared by now nothing will prepare you. Ask to be friends and see what happens.
This is Arlie, signing out.