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.
Thursday, 27 October 2011
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, 23 October 2011
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
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.
Thursday, 13 October 2011
Tuesday, 11 October 2011
Forgive me, first love.
Who would have thought so much would have happened between us when we were fooling around and having shits and giggles in our primary school classrooms all those years ago. I remember sitting around with you, being mean and nasty to you while you were being mean and nasty to me... That’s what people say about kids very often, you know. If they hate each other, or in our case if they pretend to hate each other, then they actually like each other. Well obviously I liked you. That’s a given that I’m sure the whole world knows about by now. I was totally smitten for you, the shortest kid in the class who gave me so much shit as a child... The one who used to torture me by being so hurtful at times, like most 12 year old boys. The one who would say the most terrible things to me, tease me, make me die inside every time he chewed up a scrap of paper and spat in into my face. Yes, him. I am in love with that boy.
I miss those days. If I had known what would have happened to us six years later then I would have done things differently. You would too, I know. Regret is something that you will never be able to lose. You’re probably going overseas next year, to work, start your life over, whatever. You’ll still regret this. Regret follows you halfway around the world whether you like it or not. And this is something I know I will regret for a very, very long time.
We should maybe start from the beginning, as most things do. It would be so much easier to understand a story that is already so twisted and toxic that I still do not understand even if it is already over. We went to primary school together. We weren’t friends from the start; I only knew you existed when you started “dating” my friends when we were about 10 years old. (Side note: yes, when I was in primary school, we had crushes and we would tell each other that we liked each other and such, and we would be “girlfriend and boyfriend” and we would never spend any time together nor speak every day. It was just for the novelty of having someone who was glad that you were around.) So that’s how we sort of knew of each other. You went from girlfriend to girlfriend to girlfriend in primary school. Even then I thought you were a bit of a man-whore for always having a new girlfriend but you only told me yourself a few months ago that it was more than I could possibly have imagined.
We met properly in the last year of primary school. If we had been “together” if you could call it, then, we would have been pretty happy with how that year turned out. It was you and I, and your best friend, and my best friend. And together we made a naughty, giggling foursome of friends. When we left to go to high school, a friend ours (one you had actually “dated” on and off during school) hooked us up and there we have it, I had my first fake boyfriend ever. I was totally excited because you wanted to do it too. I ignored that you said to her “Okay fine, I’ll do it. But as long as she doesn’t treat me like she did during school, because if she does then it’s over.” (I mean, you basically set us up to fail). We were together for two whole months and we didn’t see each other once. Earlier this year you told me it was because you was too shit scared. You were the first boy to ever tell me that he loved me. I even remember the exact day, the reason why we were speaking at that time. I was going to a school dance and you were going on holiday so we couldn’t go together. You were concerned if I would take someone else in your place, and I had laughed out loud. I thought that was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard. Of course I wouldn’t have taken someone else.... I didn’t even end up going because you couldn’t come with me. And I remember what you said to me when we ended our conversation. You said “I just want to let you know that I love you.” That was really one of the best text messages I have ever received, TO THIS DAY. And I know, you didn’t mean it. I know now from speaking this year that you were hardly bothered at all at that time that you had a girlfriend and that it was me... I know all this. But at least, please, give me this exquisite pain.
I broke up with you a few days before your birthday. Possibly the most idiotic thing I could ever have done, I did it then. I honestly don’t remember the reasoning I had to explain away such a disgusting action on my part, but I do remember that I didn’t have any money on my phone and I was with a friend of ours on a Friday night and she did it. I am so ashamed... She sent you a text message telling you that we were breaking up, for whatever the reason was. I don’t remember if you were hurting. I do remember that I regretted it. We argued for a bit afterward, and you admitted that you still loved me but you didn’t want to try again with me. We’ve spoken about this a few times this year and I said repeatedly that I didn’t know who broke up with who or why. So did you. I lied. So did you.
Throughout high school we would speak every now and again via Facebook. We were about 16 years old then. You were still the one who always had the girlfriend and the other girls on the side who were better than the girlfriend but you wanted all of them anyways. And I was always the one who was lonely; the guys always looked right through me.
Until November 2010, I made possibly the best or worst decision I have ever made. I contacted you and we didn’t stop speaking until a couple months ago. You had a girlfriend at the time; I fancied your best friend and he didn’t want anything more than to shove his penis inside of me. I let him though, because silly little girls with silly little crushes would let their crushes have anything he wanted from them.
We became closer than I would ever have imagined. You would come to my house for some coffee on a Saturday night at 12pm just so we could have a chat. That’s one of the things I miss the most, just our spontaneous decisions to see each other at whatever time of the day it was. I remember that when you ever came into some free time and had nothing to do with yourself, the first thing you would do was send me a text message exclaiming how you had all this time and that you wouldn’t know what to do. You would never straight out ask me if I wanted to see you. You would drop a hint like that, and of course, obviously, I would ask if you wanted to see me. The second it was set in concrete I would race up and down the house, getting changed, doing my hair again, putting some make up on... And then I would sit in the lounge and wait for you to drive past my gate and park outside.
We could sit and talk for hours. And the way you made me laugh, and blush... You were so lovely. You would say all the right things; you gave the most incredible hugs. When you told me I was beautiful, I believed you over anyone else. You’d say all of the right things; you said what you knew I wanted to hear. You made me feel so special. But most of all, you made me feel like I was worth something, like I was worth the time for someone to come around and just waste time with.
And then in mid-march, I introduced you to a very special family. They are MY family. It was just us and the kids that night. We just made dinner and watched DVDs. I remember you were never one for public displays of affection, so you stroked my thigh with your hand under the blanket so that no one would see, and when they went off to another part of the house you whispered to me that the blanket, my top, and my peeking bra were all the same colour. You kissed me a few times, finally after so long that whole evening, you ate a miniature donut and fed me the rest, and then said “Let’s go to bed.”
That was one of the happiest nights of my life. I didn’t know it yet, but I loved you already then. I’m grateful for that night. During that night I ruined any chance of what we could have been, but I am grateful that we had that incredible night together, as a beautiful send off. A heart wrenching, joyous and sorrowful one last time. That was not the last time I saw you, nor was it the last time we did anything together, but it was the start of bad things to come.
Basically, that night in bed after we had sex/made love (our views differed) I made it obvious that I liked you. We were in the habit of asking “What are we?” to each other. We weren’t friends with benefits, nor fuck buddies, not in any sort of relationship.... So we always used to ask “What are we?” So that night, I asked you what we were. You answer hurt me. “We’re just friends who want to fuck each other.”
There. That’s where you broke me apart. It has taken me about two weeks to write this post. Two fucking weeks because it’s not normal to sit at a PC in university and sob hysterically while you type, right? That night, when you said that to me, you were holding me and kissing my neck. Talk about hard to understand? And then, of course, like usual, I was so stupid. In reply to that, I said “Oh.” pause. “Of course.”
I am so stupid. I am so so stupid. What the fuck is wrong with me? Is there something wrong with my brain? Did you break my heart and my brain too? Was breaking my heart not enough for you?
After that night, you dragged my heart around and played with it for probably more than six months. I have counted six months, and I do know that it is more than six months, but I’d rather not count again, because it feels like a lifetime. You tore my heart out with your fingernails and YOU DESTROYED ME.
Why were you so back and forth, so hot and cold? One day you were trying to convince me that you liked me but you didn’t want me. Then another day you were kissing me. Then another day you’d just decided out of the blue that you didn’t like me anymore. Then you were kissing me. Then you were trying (and failing) to look after me when I was sick. Then you weren’t giving a fucking shit about our six year friendship that you had wrecked... You didn’t even try to contact me, for months at a time... What was so difficult with sending a silly little text message?
Then suddenly one day, just about two weeks ago, you were telling me you miss me. Why do you miss me? Why did you do this to yourself? YOU brought this upon yourself! How many times did you fucking tell me that I was the woman you saw yourself marrying? Why did you do that to me? Didn’t you see what it would do?
About two days after you told me for the last time that you stopped liking me, you found someone else. A slut. I always call myself a whore because for some reason I have scores of disgusting men always trying to get into my pants. Always. Every single fucking day. I always tell them to fuck off because I hate how they make me feel. But this new girl you found and started screwing, was exactly like me. She had every second guy wanting to shag her. The only difference, was that she lets them. You became one of those, and suddenly you were fucking like rabbits and you’d forgotten all about me.
And now, the same thing, again. It’s incredibly easy to tell when you have someone new. I’m not fucking stupid you know. You have a new girl who you’re obviously fucking. You have a new girl who’s so pretty. She’s so pretty... Are you going to tell her everything that you told me? That she’s everything you wanted, ever? That she’s everything you ever wanted in a wife and that you see yourself marrying her and being happy?
Why did you feel you had to play such games with my heart? I realised that tonight I was just another one of those girls. I was just another girl you screwed and screwed over and used to spend your time and then you just threw me out when you were done with me, and found someone better. What kind of satisfaction do you get from this emotional abuse? You will never understand what you’ve done to me. You will never fucking understand the devastation you have caused in me. Why have you done this to me.
And you know what the fucking worst is? I love you. If you came up to me tonight and offered yourself and your life to me so that I could share myself and my life with you forever, I would grab that up in a shot. That’s how pathetic I am. I am so stupid for loving you. I am so so so fucking stupid. And I hate you for what you’ve done to me. I hate you but I love you.
So there you have it. I’ve stripped myself naked, to the core and my heart is lying in a trampled mess on the floor. I never knew being treated like dirt before you. You could probably do whatever you wanted with me right now. As you could, and did, all the time. You could destroy me further, or you’ll fix me. We both know what you will do. You’ll leave me to be how I am now, and you won’t try to fix me. Either way, that was a stupid thing to say. I can’t be fixed. And you’ll continue to break me up into tiny pieces, for god knows how long. How pathetic am I.
But one thing is for sure.
What I’ll miss most is how you held my hand.
Friday, 07 October 2011
Coincidences... Or no?
The way some things happen really baffle me sometimes... Like, is everything just a coincidence or do certain things happen for a reason?
Before I begin, I need to explain a few things. Firstly, I will speak in code. As most of my 7 (yay!) followers on this blog are male, I find that pretty fucking hilarious seeing as I apparently think like a male does but alas, will be blogging in code for certain things, like most women speak and live their whole lives in code. (I never understood that - why do you do that, chicks?) Anyways, male followers, you need not worry because I am always very honest and to the point. "Pussy footing" as we say in South Africa, or "beating around the bush" for the rest of the world, is not my thing. When I say I will be speaking in code, I mean that if I need to mention certain people they will have very distinctive code names so that my readers will be able to differentiate between who I am blogging about. I think that it's only fair to keep these people's names a secret, not because I'm a coward, but because it wouldn't be fair on them if I vomited their names all over the internet for strangers to read about. And if they happened to read this blog they would know I was talking about them because 1) they're not fucking retarded and 2) I have actually sometimes addressed them by their code names. And I really couldn't give two shits if they read these posts and are offended. These code names that I will be using were started from a very long time ago while skinnering and gossiping with Best Friend. See what I just did? ;)
Okay. Three men will feature in this post today. Heart Dragger, Rebound Boyfriend and Running Boy. A brief history to get you up to date on things. Heart Dragger and I have been *friends (read *Not anymore) for about 6-7 years now. And for 6 months this year he tore me apart and played with me as much as he wanted and dragged me along and hurt me, hence the name Heart Dragger. During the Heart Dragger episode, in about March of this year, Running Boy came into the picture and then left after a few months. I really can't figure out for myself if he played with me or not, maybe you can decide and let me know when you've read this. And then Rebound Boyfriend is exactly that. The boy I decided would be my rebound for when Heart Dragger and I FINALLY sort of ended.
Heart Dragger and I, from about December/January, were going well. We had rekindled our childhood friendship and become so incredibly close in a very short period of time. We used to speak everyday, and every week, be it once or 3 times, we would see each other. We'd sit outside and talk and laugh and drink coffee. Soon after we did that as well as kissing, holding hands.. You know, lover stuff. We were "together" until the 19th March (how pathetic am I for remembering the date?), lying in bed at three in the morning after just having sex/making love (our views differed), he broke my heart. That's where all the shit started. That fucking incredible and lovely and pitiful night of March the 19th. From there we were up and down. I was in love with him, one day he liked me then he didn't then he did then he didn't again...
And then Running Boy arrived. Never once was it ever said aloud that we were flirting with each other, or that we were considering each other as potential lovers, partners, a couple, whatever. Oh but I knew. The way he spoke to me, the way he so enjoyed talking to me all day every day.. He started making it better. He knew about Heart Dragger. He knew and he wanted to make it better. He wanted to be the better man, the man who deserved me. In April, when Heart Dragger was trying to decide what he wanted (he still can't to this day, by the way), there I was waiting for Running Boy to ask me out, sweep me off my feet... I was expecting that specific weekend because he had been busy and that was his first weekend he had free. To see me. That's what he had promised, or maybe that's what I assumed. Or expected.
As tradition, Heart Dragger and I took my dog for a walk. By the end of our walk, he broke the news to me. He wasn't ready to be in a relationship at present so that meant I would be alone and without him and I could either get over him (didn't happen. Still not happening) or I could wait for him (happened. Still happening). Of course, I already knew this. Note: If a boy is not sure if he wants you or not, HE DOESN'T WANT YOU. Whether that is a lie to you or themselves or whatever, they say that but they mean the truth that you dread. So I was sad. Again, as usual. The ever typical girl in love, supportive friend and martyr, I told him I understood and would still be his friend because that was more important to me than the person I want to spend the rest of my life with saying he didn't want me.
I went home. Sighed and cried and decided to lose myself in the lame and boring lives of my Facebook friends. Alas, what did I see there? "Running Boy is now in a relationship." Obviously someone's life had not been lame and boring. That was why he hadn't been replying to my messages for the past couple days before that. There was my back up, not being my back up anymore and it sucked old man balls. I liked him, he was very slowly stealing me away and making it better.. He used to get so angry about how stupid Heart Dragger was for not wanting me, for hurting me... I'm ashamed that I still remember it, but he sent me a text message once saying "So, gorgeous, how am I going to fix your heart?" He wanted to fix me. I thought he wanted to fix me... And then he went and found a gorgeous, sophisticated, sultry looking sex bomb blonde. Insult.
That wasn't nice, being rejected by two guys on the same day? Now, don't get me wrong, Heart Dragger never has known what he's wanted. I know I am coming across as a girl who would have settled for either one... I wouldn't. If I could choose, sadly, it would be Heart Dragger. As much as he has destroyed me and ruined everything, I would run right back to him if he would give me the chance. That's what silly little girls in love do. The only reason why I wanted Running Boy, was because I know that Heart Dragger is bad for me. I know that he doesn't deserve me, nor will he treat me half as properly as anyone would expect. I wanted Running Boy because he would have made it better. Because why wouldn't a broken hearted girl want to be with a guy who wanted her, even if he wasn't her perfect guy? Better Running Boy than nothing at all. He's a fucking great catch, and his girlfriend is beyond blessed and lucky to have him.
Until early August, I got tired of Heart Dragger's bullshit and ended everything, the friendship, everything. And out of nowhere, Rebound Boyfriend came along and also started to make it better. I was happy for two months until he broke up with me no more than a week ago. It couldn't be helped, but that's a story for another day.
That day I received a text message from Heart Dragger. He misses me. Is that weird? Or just a coincidence? Unfortunately for him my reply was pretty funny and scary... I think I scared him away with my demented thinking HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
And then, the other night happened. Running Boy is having girlfriend problems and he decides to vent at ME about it. Me. That's funny, seeing as I'm such a failure when it comes to dating.
But never the less, I find this ironic. Is it just coincidental that I will not hear from these people for weeks at a time but then they arrive at a time that I have been pathetically dumped by my rebound in a text message?
This shit is fucking weird to me okay.
Before I begin, I need to explain a few things. Firstly, I will speak in code. As most of my 7 (yay!) followers on this blog are male, I find that pretty fucking hilarious seeing as I apparently think like a male does but alas, will be blogging in code for certain things, like most women speak and live their whole lives in code. (I never understood that - why do you do that, chicks?) Anyways, male followers, you need not worry because I am always very honest and to the point. "Pussy footing" as we say in South Africa, or "beating around the bush" for the rest of the world, is not my thing. When I say I will be speaking in code, I mean that if I need to mention certain people they will have very distinctive code names so that my readers will be able to differentiate between who I am blogging about. I think that it's only fair to keep these people's names a secret, not because I'm a coward, but because it wouldn't be fair on them if I vomited their names all over the internet for strangers to read about. And if they happened to read this blog they would know I was talking about them because 1) they're not fucking retarded and 2) I have actually sometimes addressed them by their code names. And I really couldn't give two shits if they read these posts and are offended. These code names that I will be using were started from a very long time ago while skinnering and gossiping with Best Friend. See what I just did? ;)
Okay. Three men will feature in this post today. Heart Dragger, Rebound Boyfriend and Running Boy. A brief history to get you up to date on things. Heart Dragger and I have been *friends (read *Not anymore) for about 6-7 years now. And for 6 months this year he tore me apart and played with me as much as he wanted and dragged me along and hurt me, hence the name Heart Dragger. During the Heart Dragger episode, in about March of this year, Running Boy came into the picture and then left after a few months. I really can't figure out for myself if he played with me or not, maybe you can decide and let me know when you've read this. And then Rebound Boyfriend is exactly that. The boy I decided would be my rebound for when Heart Dragger and I FINALLY sort of ended.
Heart Dragger and I, from about December/January, were going well. We had rekindled our childhood friendship and become so incredibly close in a very short period of time. We used to speak everyday, and every week, be it once or 3 times, we would see each other. We'd sit outside and talk and laugh and drink coffee. Soon after we did that as well as kissing, holding hands.. You know, lover stuff. We were "together" until the 19th March (how pathetic am I for remembering the date?), lying in bed at three in the morning after just having sex/making love (our views differed), he broke my heart. That's where all the shit started. That fucking incredible and lovely and pitiful night of March the 19th. From there we were up and down. I was in love with him, one day he liked me then he didn't then he did then he didn't again...
And then Running Boy arrived. Never once was it ever said aloud that we were flirting with each other, or that we were considering each other as potential lovers, partners, a couple, whatever. Oh but I knew. The way he spoke to me, the way he so enjoyed talking to me all day every day.. He started making it better. He knew about Heart Dragger. He knew and he wanted to make it better. He wanted to be the better man, the man who deserved me. In April, when Heart Dragger was trying to decide what he wanted (he still can't to this day, by the way), there I was waiting for Running Boy to ask me out, sweep me off my feet... I was expecting that specific weekend because he had been busy and that was his first weekend he had free. To see me. That's what he had promised, or maybe that's what I assumed. Or expected.
As tradition, Heart Dragger and I took my dog for a walk. By the end of our walk, he broke the news to me. He wasn't ready to be in a relationship at present so that meant I would be alone and without him and I could either get over him (didn't happen. Still not happening) or I could wait for him (happened. Still happening). Of course, I already knew this. Note: If a boy is not sure if he wants you or not, HE DOESN'T WANT YOU. Whether that is a lie to you or themselves or whatever, they say that but they mean the truth that you dread. So I was sad. Again, as usual. The ever typical girl in love, supportive friend and martyr, I told him I understood and would still be his friend because that was more important to me than the person I want to spend the rest of my life with saying he didn't want me.
I went home. Sighed and cried and decided to lose myself in the lame and boring lives of my Facebook friends. Alas, what did I see there? "Running Boy is now in a relationship." Obviously someone's life had not been lame and boring. That was why he hadn't been replying to my messages for the past couple days before that. There was my back up, not being my back up anymore and it sucked old man balls. I liked him, he was very slowly stealing me away and making it better.. He used to get so angry about how stupid Heart Dragger was for not wanting me, for hurting me... I'm ashamed that I still remember it, but he sent me a text message once saying "So, gorgeous, how am I going to fix your heart?" He wanted to fix me. I thought he wanted to fix me... And then he went and found a gorgeous, sophisticated, sultry looking sex bomb blonde. Insult.
That wasn't nice, being rejected by two guys on the same day? Now, don't get me wrong, Heart Dragger never has known what he's wanted. I know I am coming across as a girl who would have settled for either one... I wouldn't. If I could choose, sadly, it would be Heart Dragger. As much as he has destroyed me and ruined everything, I would run right back to him if he would give me the chance. That's what silly little girls in love do. The only reason why I wanted Running Boy, was because I know that Heart Dragger is bad for me. I know that he doesn't deserve me, nor will he treat me half as properly as anyone would expect. I wanted Running Boy because he would have made it better. Because why wouldn't a broken hearted girl want to be with a guy who wanted her, even if he wasn't her perfect guy? Better Running Boy than nothing at all. He's a fucking great catch, and his girlfriend is beyond blessed and lucky to have him.
Until early August, I got tired of Heart Dragger's bullshit and ended everything, the friendship, everything. And out of nowhere, Rebound Boyfriend came along and also started to make it better. I was happy for two months until he broke up with me no more than a week ago. It couldn't be helped, but that's a story for another day.
That day I received a text message from Heart Dragger. He misses me. Is that weird? Or just a coincidence? Unfortunately for him my reply was pretty funny and scary... I think I scared him away with my demented thinking HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
And then, the other night happened. Running Boy is having girlfriend problems and he decides to vent at ME about it. Me. That's funny, seeing as I'm such a failure when it comes to dating.
But never the less, I find this ironic. Is it just coincidental that I will not hear from these people for weeks at a time but then they arrive at a time that I have been pathetically dumped by my rebound in a text message?
This shit is fucking weird to me okay.
Tuesday, 04 October 2011
What you did.
Today I'm hurting. Because I'm angry at people. Because I'm angry at life. Because friends who have everything going for them think they understand you when they don't actually have a clue.
So I'm hurting. And I'm fucking seething.
In later posts, you will understand what's happened this year to turn me into such a fire breathing angry bitch. It's quite clear that my heart has been broken (actually a totally ridiculous term seeing as it's all a brain process) and now I have been left to deal with it and pick myself up, again, on my own, again, while the disgusting men who've done this to me walk away without a care.
So this morning, thinking I could open up to my friends about anything I wished, particularly about things that are hurting me, myself and the two other girls from our group of friends had a lovely heartwarming discussion about torturing my most recent ex-boyfriend.
I was obviously wrong in thinking I could talk to my friends about my feelings, because the one decided to stand up for him and plead his case. Yes, sure. I do see sense in what she was saying. I do understand that what she says is right because I knew all of this sense before she even did. So YES, I know. YES, I understand. But either way, isn't she supposed to be on "my side" as such? It's very primary school, I know. But the fact that I'm in pain should cause any caring friend to be in my favour. Not in favour of the boy she has never met nor spoken to. Not the boy who ripped her friend's heart out by giving her false hope and then taking it away again...
I do think she meant well. When a person understands a situation properly, then they do tend to feel less hurt or betrayed than they did before. But that does not apply here. I am hurting. And I am angry. So do not fucking try to make me see sense because it will not make me hurt any less! This made me really angry with her today, because this is coming from a girl who has a wonderful to-die-for dream boyfriend who is just so lovely... He takes care of us.... If he doesn't see me smiling, he motions for me to turn the corners of my mouth up, and he says things like "We're going to get your swag back" to broken hearted little girls when they're falling apart. I wish she would stop trying to make like she understands and that she knows better when she doesn't.
Later that morning, we wasted time sitting around on the familiar leather blue chairs having our "basement time" (it's literally in the basement of a building where we have some classes) As far as I remember we were speaking about something to do with forgetting important dates. Now just a couple of weeks ago, there was a very special birthday. Courtenay "Stitch" Whitaker's 18th birthday. One of the most important people in my life and I forgot her birthday, her 18th birthday to make it even worse... Not only had I not been around the week before she died, but now I had forgotten that it was her birthday. It feels like I owe it to her to miss her all the time, and to remember her birthdays and other special things about her, yet this day specifically, I forgot.
I remember being so upset about it. After a long and busy week and especially that friday, I got home and could finally relax. I did my usual routine of getting food and something to drink and vegitating in front of the pc stalking social networks, and that was where I saw that it was her birthday, on that satan's spawn called Facebook. Needless to say, I felt so terrible, and I wept. Like a silly child I wept over something I couldn't change. I remember a couple minutes later my phone rang, it was my best friend with his usual greeting of "Hello hobo" and then proceeding to make plans to come over and giggle across a table over some coffee and my baking. He knew straight away that something was wrong when I couldn't speak, so he said, just straight out "Whatever I'm coming over anyway."
So obviously, as you can imagine, today during our "basement time", I mentioned that I had forgotten her birthday. And, the afore mentioned "friend" who had already upset me before, said to me "Well she won't realise now."
THAT. Like, really? What the fuck kind of a friend would say that to someone who is mourning the death of someone who was close to her and then died suddenly? With the ex-boyfriend thing, I can kind of understand. However, this, I cannot. I found what she said to be so heartless and insensitive, and hurtful.
To add to it, less than an hour later I had a panic attack and was throwing up in the bathroom after running out of a lecture theatre. I sound like a total pussy. But if you push buttons that will hurt me, I actually can't deal with it.
So I ask myself what friends these are that I have. I do understand, that maybe she was trying to help. That maybe she was trying to be realistic so that I would understand and so that I wouldn't hurt.
It didn't work. Sorry. Fuck you.
So I'm hurting. And I'm fucking seething.
In later posts, you will understand what's happened this year to turn me into such a fire breathing angry bitch. It's quite clear that my heart has been broken (actually a totally ridiculous term seeing as it's all a brain process) and now I have been left to deal with it and pick myself up, again, on my own, again, while the disgusting men who've done this to me walk away without a care.
So this morning, thinking I could open up to my friends about anything I wished, particularly about things that are hurting me, myself and the two other girls from our group of friends had a lovely heartwarming discussion about torturing my most recent ex-boyfriend.
I was obviously wrong in thinking I could talk to my friends about my feelings, because the one decided to stand up for him and plead his case. Yes, sure. I do see sense in what she was saying. I do understand that what she says is right because I knew all of this sense before she even did. So YES, I know. YES, I understand. But either way, isn't she supposed to be on "my side" as such? It's very primary school, I know. But the fact that I'm in pain should cause any caring friend to be in my favour. Not in favour of the boy she has never met nor spoken to. Not the boy who ripped her friend's heart out by giving her false hope and then taking it away again...
I do think she meant well. When a person understands a situation properly, then they do tend to feel less hurt or betrayed than they did before. But that does not apply here. I am hurting. And I am angry. So do not fucking try to make me see sense because it will not make me hurt any less! This made me really angry with her today, because this is coming from a girl who has a wonderful to-die-for dream boyfriend who is just so lovely... He takes care of us.... If he doesn't see me smiling, he motions for me to turn the corners of my mouth up, and he says things like "We're going to get your swag back" to broken hearted little girls when they're falling apart. I wish she would stop trying to make like she understands and that she knows better when she doesn't.
Later that morning, we wasted time sitting around on the familiar leather blue chairs having our "basement time" (it's literally in the basement of a building where we have some classes) As far as I remember we were speaking about something to do with forgetting important dates. Now just a couple of weeks ago, there was a very special birthday. Courtenay "Stitch" Whitaker's 18th birthday. One of the most important people in my life and I forgot her birthday, her 18th birthday to make it even worse... Not only had I not been around the week before she died, but now I had forgotten that it was her birthday. It feels like I owe it to her to miss her all the time, and to remember her birthdays and other special things about her, yet this day specifically, I forgot.
I remember being so upset about it. After a long and busy week and especially that friday, I got home and could finally relax. I did my usual routine of getting food and something to drink and vegitating in front of the pc stalking social networks, and that was where I saw that it was her birthday, on that satan's spawn called Facebook. Needless to say, I felt so terrible, and I wept. Like a silly child I wept over something I couldn't change. I remember a couple minutes later my phone rang, it was my best friend with his usual greeting of "Hello hobo" and then proceeding to make plans to come over and giggle across a table over some coffee and my baking. He knew straight away that something was wrong when I couldn't speak, so he said, just straight out "Whatever I'm coming over anyway."
So obviously, as you can imagine, today during our "basement time", I mentioned that I had forgotten her birthday. And, the afore mentioned "friend" who had already upset me before, said to me "Well she won't realise now."
THAT. Like, really? What the fuck kind of a friend would say that to someone who is mourning the death of someone who was close to her and then died suddenly? With the ex-boyfriend thing, I can kind of understand. However, this, I cannot. I found what she said to be so heartless and insensitive, and hurtful.
To add to it, less than an hour later I had a panic attack and was throwing up in the bathroom after running out of a lecture theatre. I sound like a total pussy. But if you push buttons that will hurt me, I actually can't deal with it.
So I ask myself what friends these are that I have. I do understand, that maybe she was trying to help. That maybe she was trying to be realistic so that I would understand and so that I wouldn't hurt.
It didn't work. Sorry. Fuck you.
Sunday, 02 October 2011
Introductions: Update
Want to know something fucking hilarious?
For one of my courses at varsity, linguistics, I've signed up for an interview to participate in a study being conducted by a linguistics professor from University of Cape Town. I just received an email with the list of students partaking and the times etc.
https://docs.google.com/viewer?attid=0.1&pid=gmail&thid=132c44edd18e4873&url=https%3A%2F%2Fmail.google.com%2Fmail%2F%3Fui%3D2%26ik%3Dac7be97bf1%26view%3Datt%26th%3D132c44edd18e4873%26attid%3D0.1%26disp%3Dsafe%26zw&docid=4005f2066519d88655634085274fd8de%7C08047224f58adc6208d1e9b705cfe34f&a=bi&pagenumber=1&w=780
Look for my name. Hint: I'm scheduled for tuesday, in case you can't find it. With such horrendous spelling in my name, you might actually miss it. I should actually arrive there on tuesday morning and make a big scene because I'm not on the list. BECAUSE THAT IS NOT MY NAME. For fuck's sake.
For one of my courses at varsity, linguistics, I've signed up for an interview to participate in a study being conducted by a linguistics professor from University of Cape Town. I just received an email with the list of students partaking and the times etc.
https://docs.google.com/viewer?attid=0.1&pid=gmail&thid=132c44edd18e4873&url=https%3A%2F%2Fmail.google.com%2Fmail%2F%3Fui%3D2%26ik%3Dac7be97bf1%26view%3Datt%26th%3D132c44edd18e4873%26attid%3D0.1%26disp%3Dsafe%26zw&docid=4005f2066519d88655634085274fd8de%7C08047224f58adc6208d1e9b705cfe34f&a=bi&pagenumber=1&w=780
Look for my name. Hint: I'm scheduled for tuesday, in case you can't find it. With such horrendous spelling in my name, you might actually miss it. I should actually arrive there on tuesday morning and make a big scene because I'm not on the list. BECAUSE THAT IS NOT MY NAME. For fuck's sake.
Introductions
Very late last night, it did occur to me that I should probably introduce myself to whoever reads this... I did consider being lazy and making it a super fun adventure for anyone bored enough to read all of these posts to try discover who I am and what makes me tick. But I realised if it was me reading someone elses blog who had the same idea as that, I would either get bored or annoyed. So here goes.
My name is Raffaella Arena. But don't ever call me that because unless you are Italian you WILL pronounce it wrong and throughout my whole school career, well, shoo wow did those people come up with exotic words that I was supposed to answer to... Maybe that's why I have so many nicknames...... I answer to Raff, and of course nicknames from friends that have been created via private jokes and experiences and stuff. I'm okay with that "Raff" name. Raffaella is a family name (Raffaello was my grandfather's name, it was my uncle's name and is my dad's second name) so I do respect my name. It is a beautiful name and for some reason it certainly gets the men interested.. But I hate how stupid english speaking people fuck it up. So Raff it is.
I'm from Johannesburg, South Africa. Possibly one of the most beautiful places on the planet. I'm 19 - young and naive and innocent (not). At the moment I'm studying my first year of English at the University of the Witwatersrand. I wanted to go into journalism but in this country you get fucked up when you write what you feel, what you want... Who started that "freedom-of-speech" thing? Yeah it's not working. So my new plan is to go into publishing. That way I can still read, and write, and mostly tell people what I think and possibly break them down because I'm sadistic and evil and because I can. :)
I'm the typical Italian. Dark, very thick, very curly hair. Very loud, very naughty, very flirty. Olive skin, brown eyes etc blah blah.. 1,55m short with big boobs - note, the name "Bodacious" Confessions? Yes.
So I should probably warn you. I'm the typical broken wing. Every clichéd phrase you could come up with to describe heartbreak and feelings being played with etc, you may use it to describe me. Because every single one of them would fit perfectly a thousand times over in the crooked, dark and angry puzzle that I am. So I warn you now. Many of my future posts will be morbid and sad and fuck-my-life-ish. You could probably equate it to Bella Swan's annoying woe is me ramblings in Stephenie Meyer's third book "Eclipse" in her Twilight Saga. Yes. And that thought makes me want to shoot myself because that book seriously grated my tits. Bella Swan was so fucking annoying. But just typing that out now, I realise I relate well to her situation in the novel, as of events from this past week. You will be reading about these events in later posts, I assure you. So really, believe me when I say that you will hate this blog. You will hate it and it'll annoy you. And you'll pity me. Which is something I always hated. Ironic, I know. Why create my own blog when I hate blogs and bloggers? And now, why moan to the internet about my sad life when I hate being pitied? Believe me, I'm asking myself the same questions.
So I have warned you. You will not like reading this blog. But don't worry, you will find this out soon enough.
My name is Raffaella Arena. But don't ever call me that because unless you are Italian you WILL pronounce it wrong and throughout my whole school career, well, shoo wow did those people come up with exotic words that I was supposed to answer to... Maybe that's why I have so many nicknames...... I answer to Raff, and of course nicknames from friends that have been created via private jokes and experiences and stuff. I'm okay with that "Raff" name. Raffaella is a family name (Raffaello was my grandfather's name, it was my uncle's name and is my dad's second name) so I do respect my name. It is a beautiful name and for some reason it certainly gets the men interested.. But I hate how stupid english speaking people fuck it up. So Raff it is.
I'm from Johannesburg, South Africa. Possibly one of the most beautiful places on the planet. I'm 19 - young and naive and innocent (not). At the moment I'm studying my first year of English at the University of the Witwatersrand. I wanted to go into journalism but in this country you get fucked up when you write what you feel, what you want... Who started that "freedom-of-speech" thing? Yeah it's not working. So my new plan is to go into publishing. That way I can still read, and write, and mostly tell people what I think and possibly break them down because I'm sadistic and evil and because I can. :)
I'm the typical Italian. Dark, very thick, very curly hair. Very loud, very naughty, very flirty. Olive skin, brown eyes etc blah blah.. 1,55m short with big boobs - note, the name "Bodacious" Confessions? Yes.
So I should probably warn you. I'm the typical broken wing. Every clichéd phrase you could come up with to describe heartbreak and feelings being played with etc, you may use it to describe me. Because every single one of them would fit perfectly a thousand times over in the crooked, dark and angry puzzle that I am. So I warn you now. Many of my future posts will be morbid and sad and fuck-my-life-ish. You could probably equate it to Bella Swan's annoying woe is me ramblings in Stephenie Meyer's third book "Eclipse" in her Twilight Saga. Yes. And that thought makes me want to shoot myself because that book seriously grated my tits. Bella Swan was so fucking annoying. But just typing that out now, I realise I relate well to her situation in the novel, as of events from this past week. You will be reading about these events in later posts, I assure you. So really, believe me when I say that you will hate this blog. You will hate it and it'll annoy you. And you'll pity me. Which is something I always hated. Ironic, I know. Why create my own blog when I hate blogs and bloggers? And now, why moan to the internet about my sad life when I hate being pitied? Believe me, I'm asking myself the same questions.
So I have warned you. You will not like reading this blog. But don't worry, you will find this out soon enough.
Saturday, 01 October 2011
First breath
Hello
So I started a blog. Like everyone else who has always thought highly of themselves, one of the most clichéd things that people do when they have too much time to waste, when there is too much time spent procrastinating, when they have unlimited access to the internet. Or of course, when they think that thousands of people will read whatever bunch of shit they have to say.
Don't ask me which I am because I don't know. It's a bit funny to me, because I almost always look down on bloggers because when people say they're bloggers they're thinking of themselves as brilliant writers. When usually they are thinking of themselves too highly and their writing sounds like death-warmed-up-drivel. But of course, I'm not saying that my writing is any better, nor will I have thousands reading these posts, probably no more than a handful. I'm okay with that.
I decided to start this blog because I had always wanted to become a writer of some kind, except at the tender age of perhaps 17 my writing went to shit and I couldn't do it anymore. It wasn't in me. Writer's block, they call it. I always used to say "I'll stop writing when my heart runs dry." Yet my heart hasn't run dry, not in the slightest.
Which brings me to my next point. The biggest reason why I decided to start blogging is because I basically feel too much. People always say "Start journaling!" I do that. It isnt enough. Because people don't see it, they don't understand. I feel like no one knows, no one hears me. I know that I am not the only person to go through whatever I go through, but I sure do feel alone sometimes, and I would be okay with writing a post in this blog and getting an email or a comment saying that perhaps someone understands. So view this as an experiment, for me to write my bleeding heart out and see if it helps me feel better about some things.
Yeah, I'm a total blogger who views herself too highly because I'm a blogger now.
So I started a blog. Like everyone else who has always thought highly of themselves, one of the most clichéd things that people do when they have too much time to waste, when there is too much time spent procrastinating, when they have unlimited access to the internet. Or of course, when they think that thousands of people will read whatever bunch of shit they have to say.
Don't ask me which I am because I don't know. It's a bit funny to me, because I almost always look down on bloggers because when people say they're bloggers they're thinking of themselves as brilliant writers. When usually they are thinking of themselves too highly and their writing sounds like death-warmed-up-drivel. But of course, I'm not saying that my writing is any better, nor will I have thousands reading these posts, probably no more than a handful. I'm okay with that.
I decided to start this blog because I had always wanted to become a writer of some kind, except at the tender age of perhaps 17 my writing went to shit and I couldn't do it anymore. It wasn't in me. Writer's block, they call it. I always used to say "I'll stop writing when my heart runs dry." Yet my heart hasn't run dry, not in the slightest.
Which brings me to my next point. The biggest reason why I decided to start blogging is because I basically feel too much. People always say "Start journaling!" I do that. It isnt enough. Because people don't see it, they don't understand. I feel like no one knows, no one hears me. I know that I am not the only person to go through whatever I go through, but I sure do feel alone sometimes, and I would be okay with writing a post in this blog and getting an email or a comment saying that perhaps someone understands. So view this as an experiment, for me to write my bleeding heart out and see if it helps me feel better about some things.
Yeah, I'm a total blogger who views herself too highly because I'm a blogger now.
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