Second wind

This is new to me again, blogging. I don’t remember the last time I blogged, but it was roughly around this time last year I think. What’s funny is that I went into it thinking it would help; it would be a release for my pain and depression. Of course, like most things that usually happen to me, it turned out completely differently.

It was supposed to make me feel better. My friends got tired of listening to the same stories about he did this to me and he said this to me and wah wah waaah and so on and so forth. No one wanted to listen anymore, and that’s what I thought I needed at the time. So, I turned to blogging and spewing my pain all over the internet as if THEY wanted to know all about my stupid life. Of course that was also incredibly wrong and I got quite a big wake up call.

There I was typing away thinking I was doing the right thing when I was doing the complete opposite – tearing myself apart, keeping the hurt fresh in my mind at all times as I hungered to write, making that poor sod of a stupid bastard man look even worse than he already is.... AND on top of all that, embarrassing myself for all who stumbles upon this blog to see! I suppose though at the time I was too selfishly caught up in myself that I didn’t even care what everyone else thought of me and the drivel I had to say.

Until one day I realised hey, this isn’t working out for me the way I thought it would, and I’ve taken this too far! Yes, it was hard, and it was painful, I made sacrifices for things that are not even in this blog. But there are worse things that could happen than a stupid little girl’s heart being broken by a stupid little boy who wanted to play around first – with her, and many other girls. This is it. THERE ARE WORSE THINGS THAT COULD HAPPEN.

And so I took some time out for myself. I made changes in my life like for one leaving this blog alone. I needed to heal completely or at least as much as I could before I started it up again. I quit varsity and got myself a job. And that’s what happened! And now I feel ok about writing my thoughts again because sure they might be boring to some, but it certainly doesn’t make people want to die in a do-it-yourself kind of way, and it doesn’t embarrass myself anymore either! It’s just normal day to day stuff about me and my life and the people around me and my colleagues and my friends and my twitter and my job and what not and so on and so forth.

AND YES! I said job! Like a real life job that big responsible ADULTS have so they can do cool things like Earn Money and Pay Rent and Have Clients and Make Lists. Excuse my excitement and pride but I am SO proud that not only I managed to get a job, but I’ve managed to keep it for almost 11 months. That’s a big deal to me ok.

You will find out more of that excitement in my life soon enough.

Yes. I am still single. If anything I have even less friends left and virtually no family to seriously count on.... But I feel more okay than I have by a long shot compared to how I felt last year. Which is awesome. Sure I have new stresses and worries that are different from last years’. But it’s okay. The number of years I have matured astounds me.

And yes I am proud. Of myself. For getting up when I was on my ass at rock bottom. I got up and I carried on and I stopped wasting time.... I got myself going again doing something constructive. Something that makes me feel a part of something that’s bigger than me. Like I’m doing something for me as well as someone else and I am doing it WELL.

Sure. I am still single, and sometimes that gets me down. Sometimes my Best Friend has to remind me exactly what I deserve, and that one day I will get it. But not right now. And that’s okay. Because for once my life does not revolve being good enough for someone else, but being good enough for me.

So is that not great for me, huh?? Look at me being all okay and grown up and happy and shit.

Fuck you pessimists who say I can’t do it. Just you watch me overcome. Because nothing is stopping me and Because. I. Fucking. Can.

The story of Rebound Boyfriend

In one of my very early posts, I promised I would tell the story about Rebound Boyfriend. I actually started this blog a week after it had all gone wrong, and up till now I hadn’t been bothered enough to write about it. But now I am. I wasn’t waiting. I wasn’t waiting for something to happen so that there would be a bigger story to tell, no. I just didn’t do it. Until now, I am doing it. Because now, as of a few days ago, it became a bigger story to tell.

And what’s ironic about this is that it just coincidentally happened. Or is everything coincidental? Why doesn’t the shit “coincidentally” hit someone else’s fan for ONCE and not mine? Do things actually “happen for a reason” like some say? Because then I sure as hell cannot see any fucking reason for this. He has a name... I’m torn between keeping to my oath of respect and keeping it a secret for his sake, and between exposing his disgusting self to the Internet so that if he’ll feel ashamed to be ALIVE. As you can probably tell, I am completely and absolutely ridden with fury. He does not deserve for his name to be a secret, but I’m totally a huge fucking pussy and I know it’s best to keep it a secret so fiiiine let’s carry on.

I’m not particularly sure how he came onto the scene, really. It was late July/early August. I was too absorbed in Heart Dragger to notice. It was during the time Heart Dragger was not being the friend he so gushed about wanting to be and I was hurting as usual, blah blah blah. Then suddenly there was Rebound Boyfriend trying to make it better. He actually said that he was going to fix me. He said those exact fucking words... See how gullible I am? I just believe everything everyone tells me and then as usual, lo and behold it goes to shit and I’m then like “WHYYYYYYYY???????” like a fucking idiot. God I’m an embarrassment.

So he was there, and he was making it better, and I was all flattered-like and feeling worth something again and I decided that Heart Dragger did not deserve me and besides, I had this seemingly really great guy who was so determined to get me. Side note: How do girls manage to avoid getting sucked into that? If there’s a guy who seems-to-be-worth-it and is so determined to have you as his, and he says all of these lovely wonderful things, how do you NOT fall for it? Because seriously I would love to know.

I know we started out as friends. I may be stupid, but I am not so stupid to start something as lethal and dangerous as a fucking relationship without starting a friendship of sorts. At least, I know that if something as lethal and dangerous as a fucking relationship somehow manages to happen without friendship from the beginning, I know not to go near it or get sucked into something that I know will fail. So we were friends from the beginning, but to be honest I don’t remember much about that part of it. I know that the first time we spoke I was rude to him; he’d annoyed me because he was trying to be something he isn’t. Another time, I remember I was feeling very sad one day and he’d seen it in my posts on twitter and he’d wanted to make it better. Then suddenly one day we were more than friends and I was already caught up in it... If I had seen it coming I would have tried my best to stop it. I didn’t want to be in any sort of relationship, nothing. I wanted to be with Heart Dragger. He was my everything and he was all I wanted. Even if it was just fixing us to a certain degree that we could be civil with no fighting and no crying. But I didn’t see this coming. It just happened. One day I was upset and I was hurting. Next day I was in this... Thing. I did realise it was going too fast, and I did realise that it wasn’t very smart for me to go into something like that when I still loved Heart Dragger at the same time. Maybe I just liked how he made me feel. He made me feel lovely and happy. For once I had a reason to smile. He was almost everything I wanted Heart Dragger to be. He just wasn’t Heart Dragger. I guess I settled for it. You can’t have everything.

Earlier in the year I read a line from a novel that explains it perfectly. It goes: “Down, away down in my chest, a trapdoor opened and a warm light flooded into this newfound chamber.” Grange House, written by Sarah Blake. That’s how it was. I’d missed the feeling of someone being glad that I was around. Rebound Boyfriend made me feel it again. That’s how he got me so easily, and so unprepared.

He was prepared though. Boy, was he prepared. He had everything planned out for me, he did.

We wanted to get to know each other. We knew we would be together eventually, but why rush into it, we said. Why not just take it slowly, get to know each other. There was no reason to rush. He also told me that he wanted to ask me to be his girlfriend in person; he even addressed me as “future-girlfriend”. So for a month or so I was conned and deceived and played with while I was just taken in by all of this bullshit...

End of September came and we had a picnic. He taught me how to shoot arrows and he asked me to be his girl. Of course I said yes. Of COURSE. I was so taken in by him. Everything he did and said was so amazing... He was the perfect kind of boyfriend any girl could ask for. He got angry when other guys wanted to shag me. He would say the sweetest things. He’s even that kind of broken guy who’s had a rough life and who needed to be fixed. Every girl wants a guy she can fucking fix. What the hell. I’m a cliché.

He was never one to be using social networks, but he had a Facebook account that he never used, and before he deactivated it he told me that he’d searched for me and saved a picture of me on his phone. He said it was so beautiful and when he was home alone he’d just sit there and look at it.* (*Read: When he was home alone he’d take it out and masturbate. Probably.)

He told me that he’d set the password to his laptop as my name (really primary school, I know. It’s a retarded thing to do. But whatever he planned for it to do to me, it worked.) A nickname everyone knows me by; “Raffattack”. The day we had our picnic he wanted to show me something. He gave me the pc and said “You do it. You know the password.” I’d momentarily forgotten. But I remembered, typed it in, and it worked. I half expected it not to. I half expected that he’d lied to me about it.

He even told me that when he went to bed at night he held two pillows to his body and imagined it was me. He said it made him sleep better. One in his arms, one between his legs. He probably lied about all of this. He was probably lying there talking to other girls and jerking off. He probably had loads of girls’ pictures on his phone and he probably changed the password to his pc as my name for that day specifically. Just to have that particular flourish to impress me. Just to make me believe him all the more. It worked. It worked because that day was perfect.

Well. Almost perfect. He used me that day, I think. I THINK. We shot some arrows, and then we went inside. As soon as the door was closed he was on me. Sure, it was slow. It was sweet, it was romantic, there was suspense. But we were hardly in the room with the door closed and he was kissing me. Of course, I was more than fine with it. I was afraid he would think I was ugly, but at the first opportunity he was kissing me like he’d been struggling NOT to, for so long...

I was fine with that. I thought we were going too fast but I just pushed that thought away. Until he made more a fuss about my body than about me. A reason why I think males are a disgusting and shameful species is because sex is the only thing that matters to them. Every single fucking day I have another one trying to get into my pants, or trying to convince me to “have some fun” with them. God they make me fucking sick.

A reason why I fell in love with Heart Dragger is because when we were intimate, we didn’t have to be kissing, or anything. We would just whisper and hold hands. He didn’t ever put my looks or my tits above the person I am. Yes, when necessary he would compliment me on my looks. Yes, when it was something he felt and couldn’t stop thinking of, he would sit back and watch me, and say something like “Your mouth is gorgeous.” A reason I fell in love with Heart Dragger is because when he kissed me he held my face. Not my tits.

Not like Rebound Boyfriend. God. It’s like his hands were a magnetic force to my tits. I mean SERIOUSLY?  Could he not have made it any less special? All he did was grope me. I remember something he said “I always knew you had great tits, but you didn’t tell me they were this nice.” Of course at the time I was flattered. But I was also embarrassed. Yes, sure, I am not the most innocent or prudish of girls. But I knew what a good pace and what a fast pace was. He then lifted my shirt up and took my bra off. It happened quickly. I didn’t like it, but I let it happen. I’m stupid.

Soon after, he had a boner. And I felt bad, because I was the reason. (Odd thought: WHY DID I FEEL BAD???) I felt bad and so I had this idea that I needed to “take care of it” because I had done it to him. I didn’t want to. He knew I didn’t want to. But he had no problem with not making moves to reassure me that it would be okay if I left it there. Oh no. And one other thing, he had no problem sitting back and watching me suck his cock.

This is where I think he used me. Maybe all he wanted was a bit of action. Maybe all he wanted was someone to say lovely things to him and to say “I love you too, babe.” when he said it to me. I have to explain this. The “love” word is not one to be thrown around and joked with. He told me that he’d been wanting to say he loved me because he wasn’t IN love with me; he just loved me as a person. He loved who I am, and who I was to him in his life. It’s the same as me saying I loved a close friend. That’s what he told me and I believed it.

A week after that day, however, is when it all went wrong. From a few weeks before, when we weren’t “an item” yet, he’d told me some news. He’s said he was going to America next year to work at a kid’s summer camp. He’d be teaching archery and other things. He’d be gone from May to August. This is what he told me. He was even upset because he’d be missing both our birthdays while he’d been gone. I was upset about it; four months is a long time. But it was alright. I accepted it and we would go along with it as it happened.

However a week after we’d seen each other, he told me that he would now be gone for 9 months. For some reason he would need to be there from February instead. He said he would then travel Europe for a month afterward, maybe Asia... Then maybe he’d go live with his dad in Holland for a while. He told me he wasn’t coming back.

It broke me. He wanted to start his life. Sure, I understood that and I would never have come in between that. It was just so out of the blue. It felt like he was punishing me for something I’d done. And I was hurt because for so long I had been broken and he’d just begun to fix me and then it was ripped away from me. It was like presenting a starving person with a delectable meal and then taken it away as soon as they’d just tasted it. It was like life had destroyed me, given me a glimpse of happiness and then grabbed it away saying “HAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAA JUST KIDDING!!” The next day he broke up with me in a text message.

He wanted to be friends after that. He knew it was hard for me but I tried anyway. For him. He didn’t so I left it. I contacted him possibly once every three weeks. I had learnt my lesson with Heart Dragger. Friendship works both ways, and Rebound Boyfriend didn’t give me the time of day. One day I decided to check in. They were moving to Cape Town at the end of the month, he said, and he was going to America in January instead.

This is where I went wrong. I had good intentions. I wanted to know how they were. They’d supposedly just moved to Cape Town a few days before and I knew if I asked him he wouldn’t have given two shits to humour me. So I spoke to a mutual friend. This is where I found out that everything was a lie.

There was no moving to Cape Town.

There was no “10 months in America”. There was only from May to August.

There would probably be no travelling around Europe and Asia and living in Holland with his dad.

There was none of that.

The only thing there was, was a new girlfriend.

I cried. I wept and sobbed for a good two hours before I fell asleep. He’d played with me and used me and then had gotten rid of me when he was done with me. And he’d lied. He made up so many bullshit stories to make it seem like he actually didn’t want to leave me, as such, but he couldn’t have everything. It was like it wasn’t his choice. He couldn’t help it from happening.

The only thing is that he did help it. He knew what I had been through with Heart Dragger. He knew, ok? HE KNEW. He knew and he did the same thing to me again. And he had no right. He had no fucking right! He was REBOUND Boyfriend! He was just there to fill the emptiness. He wasn’t supposed to hurt me and tear me apart again! HOW DARE HE PLAY ME!

The words of a song by Adele, called ‘Best for Last’ go: “You should know that you’re just a temporary fix. This is not rooted with you, it don’t mean that much to me. Just filler in the space that happened to be free... How dare you think you’d get away with trying to play me?”

That’s exactly what it was. He was a fucking rebound. At the time I didn’t realise, but I do now. He was a fucking rebound and yet he did this to me and I’m back at square one again. A week after I lose the person I will love forever, I find out someone else played me and used me for his own benefit. A whole fucking week.

I let him know I wasn’t a fool to his lies and his games anymore. He was angry. Apparently his friend didn’t even know the full story. Apparently he went to Cape Town. Apparently there was no space for him there so he came back so there would be no moving to Cape Town. That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. Why would they make these plans without checking how many fucking bedrooms there were? Liar. Just another fucking lie. Also, he hadn’t been accepted to work at the summer camp “so he was going to Holland” and “he doesn’t have a new girlfriend.” Liar. That fucking liar.

That’s fine by me. He can go “move to Holland” and have his non-existent new girlfriend for all I care. When he broke up with me he said he did it so soon because he didn’t want to do it later and then travel halfway around the world with regret. Well guess what fucker, regret follows you where ever you may go, even halfway around the world. And I hope he’s fucking miserable. I hope he starts his new life over where ever he lands up and he has everything he ever wanted and yet he is so fucking miserable because he wouldn’t have me. And you know what? I am fucking ecstatic that the summer camp didn’t accept him. Because now he knows that he left me for nothing. And that, my dear friends, makes me fucking giggle with glee.

So yes, I am hurting. And tomorrow when I see a friend of mine I will be weeping in her arms again, as usual. Because he kicked me when I was already so low down. And yes, I am angry. Ohhh I am so fucking angry. At everyone. And everything. I want to just ruin and destroy EVERYTHING that has any kind of positive connotation to it. Any person who is happy or in a good mood grates my tits severely and I feel the need to murder them. Murder each and every one of them in a slow and painful way so that everyone can feel a fraction of what I have been through simply because they cannot be happy when I am not. It’s not fucking fair that other people get to be happy when I don’t. IT’S NOT FAIR. And he especially, should be thanking his lucky stars that I am not there slitting his wrists for him and burning him alive. Yes, I said these words to him. My pain is forever.

My fury is absolute.

Pedo

(Before you read this I have to explain some things. I wrote this a couple weeks ago but didn't post it. I think I should because it's important for my friend. One other thing. I said I have code names for people; well, Pedo is a friend from varsity. All our friends call him that because he refuses to shave and it usually looks like he has pubes on his face and he ends up looking like our idea of a pedophile. It's a joke between us, please don't be offended. We know that pedophilia is not something to be joked about.)

I have so much going on in my head. Where do I put it all? All these thoughts and feelings, and all this pain I have inside that I don’t want anyone to know about because then they’ll be afraid.... What do I do with all of it?

In the car on the way to university this morning my mother told me how disgusted she is in me. I’m not so sure why... There is obviously some discontent there... I wonder what it is. A friend I follow on twitter always says this: “Work hard. Be nice to people.” Well I work hard. I work fucking hard. And you know what? It is reflected in my tests and exams and in my assignments. I do well. But I will do extremely well in all subjects but one, and I get hell for it. I can’t be perfect, and *sometimes (read *most times) I don’t always get things right, but I work hard. And I’m nice to people. Well I try. I used to be REALLY nice to people but I got walked all over so I stopped that. I can be a real nasty bitch sometimes. But only when I need to be. Otherwise yes, I’m nice to people.

And yet this morning I stood waiting for the university library to open, digging in my bag for an exam pad and sobbing like a silly little girl. And a friend walked up, saw me crying and he said “Hello Raff how are you?” He hugged me, saw I was crying and I said “I’m good thanks, how are you?” I lied. Obviously I lied. Why would I say the obvious anyways? "Oh I feel like shit because my mom is disappointed in me for what, I don't know, and I'm miserable and depressed and no one gets it because they're all fucking retards." Really? No. He pretended like he hadn’t seen me breaking down, and that’s what I needed.  He knows I like to pretend that I'm strong. He knows that I don’t show my pain easily because I hate being pitied. He knows. So he pretended like he hadn’t seen anything and spoke about silly things like how he tried once to gain access to the library with his bus card instead of his university access card and, lo and behold! It didn’t work. Thank you Pedo, I’ll always be grateful for that, and for those few minutes

Blame

We are now playing the blame game. Of course we would. It is typical of human nature to look for someone to blame when shit goes wrong.

And of course, now everything is my fault. He’s right though, actually. I’ll bet you were waiting for me to be proud and indignant, but I’m done with that. What difference will it make? I’ve already lost everything, I have nothing left, so what’s the point of defending myself and correcting opinions and assumptions when he won’t even listen?

After he read this stupid fucking blog that aided me in ruining everything, I didn’t hear from him for a week. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was too sickened by me to even think about it. So I haven’t heard from him in a week, and during that time I’ve begun undergoing a process of “conditioning”. According to Best Friend, people who suffer from aggression (and people with other issues I’m sure)  put an elastic band on their wrists and snap it and then count to ten when they get angry. Apparently it is to condition the brain to think “oh when I get angry my wrist is also in pain, therefore I should stop getting angry.” So Best Friend advised me to wear an elastic band and snap it whenever I thought about this boy, about this situation.

Within 30 minutes of wearing it I couldn’t move my wrist because the pain was so awful. I had welts all around my wrist and the elastic band was stretched tight against the skin because of the swelling. It was like this for a whole week. I also broke skin twice and started bleeding. I’m surprised the family haven’t noticed. Of course, they wouldn’t.

Mid-week came with some pretty incredible fucking news, news I needed so badly. Family friends of mine had an extra ticket to see the Kings of Leon live at the FNB stadium in Soweto on Saturday night so they asked me to go. I went with my “younger brother” and his mom found a lady in the Johannesburg area who had two tickets she was selling. One was going to Best Friend. We invited a friend of Best Friend’s to take the second, and that night was just so amazing. I pretty much fucking jizzed in my pants in the brilliant seats my brother and I were sitting in, and I got to see Best Friend two days in a row which is always a good thing. (You should know, I am no one without him. He knows this too, but I’ll say it again. He is the most important person I have. Ever.Without him I really am nothing.)

However, because life is a fucking dickbag that hates me, happiness ended quickly. There was no elastic band on Saturday. But it wasted no time in returning to my left wrist on Sunday night. Heart Dragger wants to understand why I did it. So I explained it to him. I just wanted him to understand what he’d done; I wanted him to understand it. I wanted him to SEE. Because he just moved on with his life, left me behind to deal with all of this on my own. He left me alone and carried on with his life like nothing had happened, and he forgot about me. And also, I did it because I wanted him to notice ME, because he had so quickly forgotten about me. Forgive my insecurities, but I’m riddled with them. They fill my mind all day and everyday, they’re in my face every minute after I was berated over and over again by someone I thought was a friend of mine. (Some friend right? Good riddance.)  

When he replies, however, he is blaming me for everything that has happened. According to him he stopped trying to fix our friendship because whenever we saw each other, friendship would disappear most probably because I would bring us up, then I would kiss him and then we’d be back where we started.

Of course, there is some part of me that pricks and starts arguing indignantly, but I’m stubborn. Anyone who knows anything about me would know that. But he is actually right. Of course, only I would do this, always over analysing things and going right to the fucking beginning, but oh well. Just bear with me.

In October/November 2010 I decided we didn’t speak often enough so I made moves to invite him on mxit (retro, right? Ha!) Then during that time and January we spoke every day, becoming closer friends. Then one night he came over for coffee and a chat. I invited him over. Even if it was 12pm and I was exhausted from a busy day. Even though I think he wanted to, and he said he was really glad it happened and it made him feel better or WHATEVER. *I* invited him over. In fact, every single time we saw each other, which was at least once a week, I asked him to. It was always me. Sure, he had the option to say no, to make up some excuse as to why he couldn’t, which he did start doing eventually.... It was always me. I can actually only think of two occasions when he asked me. It’s so stupid to remember all of this, to take it all into consideration. And typing this out makes me ashamed because I used to be fucking incredible okay? I used to laugh. A LOT. And I used to make people laugh and smile and I could make anyone feel better about anything...  I used to be so great... And now I’m some pathetic, sad, depressed and obsessed creature, all because of my own doing.

None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me... And he had no problem with pointing it out to me. Forgetting, of course, that he had no problem with kissing me back. But nevertheless, if I had not invited him to dinner with my family, if I had not tried to fix things, if I had not tried to “remind him what he was missing” by fucking throwing myself at him, none of this would have happened. The other day I was told by a friend in Cape Town that I boast about my heartbreak like it's some medal. I guess I do. I should, seeing as it's all my doing that this has happened. No one else contributed at all but me. And he's right. I do it because I want him to notice me, because I am obsessed and desperate. I mean are you fucking kidding me? I even went so far as to throw myself at him like the desperate and worthless slut that I am. Hungry for his attention and his approval. I’m disgusting. I’m so pathetic and desperate. This is my fault. This is all my fault and he’s better off without me.

Pretend maybe perhaps could-be diagnosis

Hey guess what blog readers! Something I already knew has now been confirmed. I am depressed. Durh. What else could I be?

I should explain. I have a family friend who is a doctor. He calls me his sister, I call him my brother. We are not related at all. If you want me to make it difficult for you, I can. Okay I will. His dad and my dad are best friends. His parents are my middle sister's godparents. There you have it. So he is my brother and I am his sister because we are very close and he also has a twin sister who is not my sister, even though her brother is my brother too but she's not my sister. Okay now I'm confused. And there, my friends, I have succeeded.

So he's a doctor. Like a real life doctor who is doing his internship in one of the poorest government hospitals in Johannesburg, the Chris Hani Baragwanath hospital to be exact. He got his medical degree in 2010 I think, at the University of the Witwatersrand (or also known as WITS. I'm also studying there remember?) Yes. So we are relatively very close when we talk. I say "when" because we used to chat A LOT but now I'm in varsity and now he's a real life doctor starting his internship so he can work for 7 years before going into neurosurgery or something. So we don't talk as much as we used to, but we did speak a couple days ago. It was so lovely, actually. God I've missed him.

But nevertheless, he started, as he does, listing things, in this case the certain factors that apply to people who are depressed and will determine if someone is depressed or not. And as he went along my fears were confirmed. I answered "yes" to every factor that he listed, except for two.

They were insomnia and lack of appetite. I sleep when I can. Sleep for me is an escape. I stopped dreaming for a very long time, so I was quite happy about that. Sleep wastes hours of the day away so that when you wake up, some of the day is gone and you weren't awake and living through your own personal hell during those hours. Now suddenly I am struggling to fall asleep. And if I do, I am also dreaming again, mostly of Heart Dragger (man who stole my heart and broke it). In these dreams we usually see each other by chance in different situations and he pretty much goes mad. Yelling, screaming at me.... His fury frightens me in my dreams.

And as for appetite... Well. From 27 December 2010, exactly two days after my dear friend Courtenay passed away, I have eaten myself into oblivion. When I am sad, anxious, stressed, whatever, I stuff my face. I STUFF my face. I shove food into my mouth. Whatever food I can find. And so of course, I have gained an astounding amount of weight and now I'm sad because I'm fat and gross and not sexy anymore. I sometimes eat like this at such a fast rate that just ten minutes after stopping, I throw it all up. Now suddenly for the past week or so I haven't done that, and I haven't even eaten what normal people eat. I eat because I have to and because I know it's smart and the right thing to do. I just have no appetite. Like this morning for example. I start writing end year university exams TODAY. I write a subject I hate and will probably fail, and here I am blogging about my pitiful life. This morning, I knew that I had to eat. I had to. I knew that if I didn't eat in the morning, then by 11am I would be famished and eating the food I had prepared for lunch. And then I knew that by 3pm while writing an exam I will be famished again having not eaten before my exam and that would just fuck up my concentration. So this morning I literally forced myself to eat jam on toast with lots of water and it sucked.

So who knows. Maybe I am depressed. I probably am. OH WELL we all knew that already. Yay is my life.

Worse things can happen

It's funny. You would think that things get better after a while. But sometimes they get worse. Now I have no idea what to do with myself. Depression is taking hold of me and I can't even hide it away anymore. I was getting particularly good at hiding everything away but now I seem to be slipping. Those who know my father or who at least know of him, will know he is not the most emotional man, nor does he really care if you experience a knock in your life, nor will he make any moves to make you feel better. Okay, granted my family knows nothing of what I've been through this year. I don't like to show it to them, they'll only worry. But this morning I slipped and now my dad is seeing it. He isn't one to go from being a grumpy asshole to being overly silly and funny for no reason.

I'm ashamed that he has to do this. This was all my fault, I brought this all upon myself, I've absolutely ruined everything and I can't fix it and I will never forgive myself for this.

The past few days have been absolutely torturous. And interesting, at the same time. People are petty, and I don't understand them. There is so much that I don't understand about life and about people. There is so much I wish for; that I had all the answers, and that I could read minds, be a fly on the wall of where I ever wanted to be, see into the future and change the past. There is so much.

Late night about two days ago I had possibly one of the most confusing arguments with a friend. I'm actually not sure if he was an actual "friend" or an acqaintance. I typed up a whole blog post about it the next morning, I didn't post it. When worse things happen after that you sort of realise what's more important: a silly argument where a so-called friend goes so far as to delete and block you off of a social networking site, lie about it and then call you insecure, or losing the most important person in your life because you are actually insecure and so incredibly fucking stupid.

And here I am blogging when I'm considering deleting it. The whole thing. If you've read everything in this pitiful blog you would guess that I love someone who hurt me repeatedly and now I my heart is sore and I'm on my own. So I blogged about it. Pretty much all over. And then he read it. All of it. Because I told him to. And now he hates me (I struggle to comprehend why) and will never forgive me. For so long all he was worried about was what would happen to our friendship if we got together. I know he was lying, but I chose to believe it. Now he doesn't want me in his life. At all. Getting him to reply to any of my text messages is hard enough let alone trying to convince him to see my view or let go of his pride, let alone drive down the road to watch me fall apart and plead a case he won't even listen to.

I don't know what to do. With myself. With my life. With my pain. I don't know what to do.

Remember what you told me

Remember what you told me? You told me so much. So many fake lines and well phrased lies. So many of them. Things like saying our friendship was most important to you (lie) and that you never just STOP liking someone (lie), even that I was one of your closest friends (another lie). I must say, you really did play your part very well. You’d always been so good at acting; it’s your first love, your passion. I sometimes wish that your parents had let you study drama and acting in Cape Town because then you wouldn’t have been here, just two minutes away from where I live. Then you wouldn’t have been here, so close to me. You wouldn’t have been in my house, in bed with me. You wouldn’t have been in my life, and you wouldn’t have been able to practise your talent for acting at my expense. I wouldn’t have just been a real life prop to use whenever you wanted. To practise your acting on. That’s all I was. Something for you to use and then throw away when you were done with it. Had you gone to cape town, you wouldn't have gotten into my mind, under my skin and into my heart.

If that’s the case, then I’m glad I was worth something in your life, even if I was something there for your convenience. Even if I was worth nothing at all, I had my place in your life. That’s all I want, and so I’m grateful.

Life is unfair to baby sea turtles

I don’t know where I’m going with this post. I didn’t have an idea when I started writing it, I just don’t know. I don’t understand. There is so much I don’t understand. I can’t say that line enough. I wish I could scream it out at the top of my lungs in a cemetery or a busy shopping centre, I wish I could sob it into someone’s chest.

Even the silly, tiny things I can’t change. Like why don’t sea turtles lay their eggs closer to the shore? Why do they go alllllll the way up the beach to lay their eggs so that when their tiny, beautiful babies hatch they have to risk their lives to go all the way down the beach to the ocean? And they usually do die. I’m too lazy to look up statistics, but most of the babies die before they even get to the shore because they’re eaten by birds, okay? Do you fucking get that? THEY ARE DEFENCELESS BABIES AND THEY ARE BRUTALLY MURDERED BY BITCH SEAGULLS. I hate seagulls. And then you know what? The rest that actually make it to the ocean are eaten by bigger fish, which is like, every fish. Cos they're so small. How is that fair? What did they do to deserve that? Why are they granted a meagre few hours to life and then get it ripped away in a cunt -seagull's beak? So all I want to know is, why don’t the fucking sea turtles lay their eggs closer to shore? This really upsets me. It’s not fair. I don’t understand why life isn’t fair. Especially to baby sea turtles :(

I mean look at them

Cunt seagulls.

That's all thanks.