the unbearable loneliness of being.

When you have Asperger's Syndrome, you become a bit of a sadist.

It is quite frightening to have such unconscious and uncontrollable desires to hurt people. I can control it, but only to a certain extent - which is why I am quite harsh at times; sardonic, sarcastic, indifferent. I cannot look some people in the eye without wishing them ill. For others, there are no words to say; I cannot relate to them, I have no empathy with the bold and the beautiful. It is easier amongst friends, because lack of empathy is not lack of affection, but now they are fewer and fewer and there are more and more people towards whom I can feel nothing but resentment. It is harder amongst people I love, hate, people who have cut deep and who I have pretended to forgive and forget. To forgive implies empathy, and to forget implies sympathy; sometimes I have neither. Empathy is not an instinct for me; it is something that I have learned, carefully forged to mimic others. I can turn it off at will; sometimes it just stays off for as long as I like, with frightening results.

Did you know that lack of empathy can cause you to overthink things?

Take a chocolate, for example. My English teacher gives out chocolates as 'brain food', and I happen to get quite a few. And the first thought in my head? Mine. That is mine, it is mine, give it to me. It's all me me me. It takes me a little while to stop, think, realize that I don't like chocolate, and to think of who to give it to, then I dwell endlessly on who to give it to. So many people ask me for it, and sometimes I flick it over casually - it's just a chocolate, after all. But sometimes, I say no no no. For the first few people, it's because it is mine. For the rest, it's because my mind works overtime to think of who to give it to, who best deserves it. But that calculation comes after my initial reaction of greed, of possession. For anyone else who is given a chocolate who doesn't like chocolate, choosing who should be given the chocolate is the instinctual thought. Not for me, though. I can only empathise with myself out of instinct. Empathy for others is...harder.

Sometimes my lack of empathy goes out of control. At the moment there is someone I just want to box around the ears for causing me so much humiliation. It is really only decorum that is stopping me, because I haven't a shred of sympathy left.

And then there is another...another person who has half of my heart. I have spent more than three years flirting, falling in love, being dumped, rejected, by other people. But that was only half...my thoughts have always come back to the same person, no matter how many people I love or hate. Anyone with half a brain can see traces of it here, snaking around the ups and downs of my life. It's not entirely rational or reasonable, more a coincidence than a compliment - I suppose that I must be thankful that you are who you are, and I haven't fallen in love with Jack the Ripper because, knowing me, that would be something I would do.

Love is a vulnerability I do not particularly like. It forces me to think for once in my selfish life, of other people, but it also exposes me to more deliberate selfishness. High school is simply a mass congregation of the most selfish people on earth, and our high school is a mass congregation of the smartest of the selfish. The kinds of love that I have had for people, the kind of relationships I have with some people...quite frankly, they're not healthy. They're possessive, aggressive, addictive and, when all things come to nothing, a waste of time and energy. But the best part of love, for me, for now, is that it lets me be empathatic in ways that I am otherwise incapable of. You call it kindness.

 Lack of empathy sometimes is truly horrible. For a long time - perhaps I just never thought about it properly - I thought that, if I loved someone and they didn't love me back, they were truly just trying to hurt me, and my anger would match my disappointment. It is why it was the hardest thing for me to get over K and all the other boys, because it was much more than loss or humiliation, it was a personal grudge. I could not help but feel that they had wronged me, because I was too selfish to understand that you cannot help who you do and do not love. 

I must admit I was angry when you dredged up what I had almost lost. I had become largely indifferent to you, honestly, but now I am glad that we are friends. I was much angrier with you before just recently, when something humbled me, made me realize that love is a curse but nobody is at fault. I will never again be ashamed or guilty for loving, you or anyone, I will never again think myself unworthy. But I have learned not to expect anything from love but disappointment.

Would you believe me if I said that, now, I am honestly content with being your friend, and that my grievances with you now are purely our failings as friends? Of course you would not, but it's true. If anybody in the world wanted me, at least for now, I would say no. This is the loneliest time of my life and I cannot share this unbearable loneliness with anyone, not you or Cristy or anyone else because I would not wish solitude on anyone, least of all the people I love. Which is why I do not mind that we are only friends in a strange, metaphysical sense of the word. I have reached the point when I can get on with my life, focus on more important things; I'm not fighting back tears anymore, but every day reminds me of what I used to have and what I have lost. I do not think for a second that your friends would be sympathetic to a more public friendship between you and I. I am always happy to be there for you, but I am happier still that you have what I do not, and that is a kind of love. I am glad that you will never be as unhappy as I am now, and it would break my heart if you were. Of course, this kind of empathy is borne out of something more than just friendship - especially for me -  but that's kind of gone now. A few months ago I had it all and I was prepared to stretch out and snatch something else, but not now. Not now. But, your friendship is a great comfort to me, and it is nice to know that despite the unbearable loneliness of being there are still a few people willing to check that I am okay. I love your jokes, your conversation, even your endless screwups and your endless apologies, and although I am cynical and sardonic and mocking to you in real life, you are helping me more than you know, and I will always help you despite everything.

Puppies and Nazis, Anyone?

Tied Together With a Smile, Jnr.

in parenthesis, this post is also called Anyway ;P

Urgh, I am *really* pissed off because I wrote this deep, meaningful (and let's face it, slightly kooky because I am who I am) blog post, and then just as I pressed "publish" Firefox went and crashed. And Blogger decided that it was nap-nap time for the autosave function.

FML.

Anyway.

I came across this song recently called Tied Together With a Smile, by Taylor Swift. And yes, I know, that was released AAAAAGES ago, but I'm a bit slow with these things. And I bought my Taylor Swift albums out of order: Speak Now first, because I was really excited when it was released, and then Fearless and Taylor Swift later because...they were on sale 'cause they were that old...

Anyway, Tied Together With a Smile goes like this:

I guess it's true that love was all you wanted,

'Cause you're giving it away like its extra change.

Hoping it will end up in his pocket,

But he left you out like a penny in the rain.

'Cause it's not his price to pay,

Not his price to pay...

Hold on, baby, you're losing it,

The water's high, you're jumping into it

And letting go...

And no one knows you cry,

But you don't tell anyone

That you might not be the golden one,

And you're tied together with a smile,

But you're coming undone...

When I first heard it, I thought of how I used to be.

But then, I realized...have I changed much from that?

Occasionally, people will accuse me of being a little pretentious because sometimes I run around like a madwoman, giggling like a flirt and laughing like a hyena. Or sometimes I just smile dreamily at the sunlight through the trees, or I sit and watch the ants go marching. It's hard to tell people that it's all the other times that I'm pretending; the cool detachment and the cold indifference. I used to be bubbly. Now it only shows in little glimmers, little sparkles. It only really happens when I'm really, really happy; when I'm high on love, or life, or both. Sometimes I don't need a reason to be happy. Children never need a reason to be happy, they're just so drunk on life. I used to be like that. I miss that.  

But sometimes...it happens just before I crack. The calm before the tempest, if you will. Sometimes I really am tied together with a smile.

sunlight through the trees

have you ever wondered
what has happened
in the history of the world

so that you can just lie on the grass
let the heat shimmer on your thighs
listen to the birds singing
and watch
the sunlight through the trees

?

would i be here
here and now
if anne boleyn had died
an old woman in her bed?

would i be here
here and now
if you hadn't said the things
that you have have said?

you have become

finally

the kind of person i can say this to.

i see now
you're much like me.

you have my anger.

and

oh god

how it scares me...

i used to amuse myself
with endless possibilities...
things that would never happen.

but now i can see the sinister glow
in the sunlight through the trees.

i am not
the little girl
i used to be.

the most frightening part is
it is desperately,
heartbreakingly,
so breathtakingly beautiful.

and i will never think otherwise.
of it,
of me,
and of you.

Fire to Ice

So what should I do with you now, Caesar?
I swore I would never speak to you again.

But it seems to me
You have kept me
Cryogenically

And you would set fire to ice.

Do you enjoy being irresistible?
I do not like being vulnerable.

But I do honestly enjoy your company.
Even if I wasn't insane enough to let my heart win. 

How did you put it?
"intense and abrupt"

I always knew you had it in you.

Have your cake and eat it, then.
I am not likely to say no.

Shit Single Girls Say

"Can I just platonically lean on you for a bit? My heels are killing me."

"Oh Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?"

"Joseph! Why have you come to the theatre dressed like Goebbels?"

"I am under no obligation to listen to you garble on about computer games, or hair gel, or kung fu, or Star Trek...did you want me to start talking about PMS?"

"No, you may not call Kim Jong Il and tell him his mistress is missing."

"Oy! Eyes up here, sweetie" 
"Can I take your digits?"
"No, not in a million years, you're nasty, please leave me alone" (With apologies to Lily Allen)

"Give me a SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGN, hit me baby one more TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIME!"

"Sorry, Cristy, but I am sincerely not sorry for perving on that random guy over there."

"Heart shaped lips. Yummy."

"I am a nun, I'm going to die a nun, I am a nun nun nun!"

"16 years NBK and counting..."

"Cheers, Cristy."
"What are we toasting to?"
"SINGLE LIFE SUCKS!"
"Agreed."

"I...totally have a boyfriend. He's Korean. He doesn't speak English. No, I don't have his number...they don't have phones in North Korea..."

"I genuinely, sincerely do not know my number" (that is true. Ask me for my number and  I won't have the foggiest idea what to say. I could give you my mother's, though...)

"I am an empowered, independent woman and I do not need a ma-....oooooh, he's cute...."

"Women's rights may change, but hormones never will."

"I'll be your Lizzy if you'll be my Darcy..." 

"Crampy and disgusting ladies, I am a beached whale and I'm going to die of blood loss."

"All the single ladies, all the single ladies, all the single ladies put your hands up!"

(I obviously don't talk like this all the time, and I don't talk about boys, the absence of boys or the annoyance that is boys all the time. The Shit People Say thing is just compiling funny things a group of people might say. I just wanted to illustrate the gender dynamics from the perspective of an eternally (and, at the present, very happily) single schoolgirl)

In Pursuit of Eternal Boredom

Normality is a mere 10%, or even less, of our personality, our character, our soul, that we have in common with the rest of the world. It is not something in itself, it is just an ever-changing collection of attributes that are common and therefore mediocre. In the pursuit of normality, you become that 10%. You lose the rest. Do you understand? 90% of who you are, who you were born to be, what you could become, just lost in some fruitless battle to be accepted. You lose yourself, what makes you lovable, detestable, admirable, memorable. You just become one of many. Your soul shrinks, and sometimes, it even dies.

There's less and less to write about now. D'you think Austen and Bronte and Shakespeare would have become so famous if they wrote about people like you? You inspire nothing but pity in me. Your fear and your contempt for the unknown - we are the species who discovered the universe, but let me tell you, it was not people like you who discovered and created what makes our civilization great. 2,000 years ago Caesar fell in love with Cleopatra, and it was not because she spent her whole life in pursuit of eternal boredom. The people who rattle the bars, the people who dare to be different, the people who make a stand...they are the people who are remembered. Love, hate, passion, lust...these are the things that write history. Conformity is admirable, but a forgotten quality.

I suppose this really hit home in the latest catfight at school. I might hate being lonely, but I cannot help but feel like I am losing a piece of me when I try and be like one of them. I told someone once that my greatest fear was living a life I didn't love, in a house that was not a home with a man who was not my love. I guess that was how I felt for those few months when I belonged, when somebody could slap a label on me. I wasn't living a life that I loved, that group was not for me and they could never love me and I could never love them. The alternative is not all that much better, and I'm still trying to cope with that.  But at least I have escaped the pursuit of eternal boredom.

Mixed Messages.

Love, for a boy, is straightforward. Boy meets girl. Boy asks girl out. Girl says yes or no. That's about it.

Boys love the chase. Girls are meant to be chased, not do the chasing. But how can you help it? Being in love pulls you in like a magnet, and it's hard to run away from that. Why are we accused of being suffocating, being desperate, when we're just doing what we want all the boys to do to us? I hate how we have to play games to get what we want.

When a boy says no, it means no. When a girl says no, it can mean anything. I hate how we don't have the same kind of finality that boy does. If girls are expected to play hard to get I wish boys were born with the ability to recognise when a girl is playing and when a girl really doesn't want anything to do with you. How many times have I said no no no and it gets interpreted in some deluded boy's mind as yes yes yes?There are only so many variations of 'just friends' that I know.


Why is it that when a girl likes a boy and he doesn't return the favour, nobody thinks he has anything to do with it? But when a boy likes a girl and she doesn't like him, the rumours tell of a more mutual story. Why are girls meant to fall over every boy who looks twice at her, but boys get to pick and choose?

that's what you get when you let your heart win.

I have never liked anyone that I have known to like me. Isn't that weird? There are so many guys that I have liked, yet it is the ones that I dislike/hate/am indifferent to/wasn't aware of their existance/thought they were gay/just friends with that choose to decide that I'm not a freak of nature.

I don't resent people for not liking me. Well, that's not entirely true. I think we all resent the disappointing result after that thrilling, surreal time of he loves me, he loves me not. But I have never blamed someone for it, never been really angry about it. When you love someone and they don't love you back, well, that's what you get when you let your heart win. For some unfathomable, unfair reason, they can wipe their hands clean and walk away. But to be angry is like being angry at God. Anger won't make them love you back. It's futile and a waste of energy.  

I have never felt guilty for not reciprocating those rare specimens of life who choose to enjoy my company. I cannot choose who I love - if I could, I wouldn't have fallen in love until, well, later...and I would have chosen a bit more wisely. But I never would have chosen any of the people who have liked me, and that's not an insult to them or me. It would be as pointless as trying to set fire to the ocean.

I resent what people I love do to me. Being in love is such a vulnerable position, and every single one of them have taken advantage of that. Could they not just take the compliment and walk away?

When you're as bitter as I am about the whole institution it is so tempting to stage some kind of revenge, to be cruel and unsympathetic. Sometimes you cannot help but feel a little disgusted, a little offended. It is so tempting to be angry about the awkwardness and embarassment they can cause. You forget that you could have been the cause of awkwardness and embarassment for so many other people. But I was eight when I first realized that love isn't always a two way street. Eight years later, nobody has proven me wrong, and if love is a gamble I would be so ridiculously in debt for the amount I have given to receive so little. I don't really have any sympathy for any boy my age who gets in that position. It's part of growing up, and quite frankly, it should have happened a long time ago. It happened to me a long time ago.

But then I remember. I remember what it's like to be rejected. I remember what it's like to be passed over for someone prettier, skinnier, smarter, blonder, better. I remember all those times that I gritted my teeth and accepted that the whole world cannot love me, but wishing, just wishing, that they could be a little nicer about it.

I don't make any rash promises like I used to. I can't promise to love everyone and anyone who comes to me. I won't say 'yes' when my heart says 'no'. But I promise I will be kinder than the boy who passed me over for my best friend. I promise I will be kinder than the boy who dumped me, online, three days after asking me out. I will be kinder than the boy who spent last summer flirting and then forgot all about it. I will be kinder than the countless boys who laughed at me, yelled at me, wanted nothing to do with me, just because I paid them the ultimate compliment.   

When I was little, I was taught to treat others how you would like to be treated. I have never been treated how I would like to be treated, how I deserve to be treated. But this is one thing where I can put aside my bitterness and my complete lack of sympathy, and be, for once, altruistic. When you want so badly for people just to be honest and kind, you can't be a hypocrite. 

I must say that I am impressed that you could be so selfish. I am impressed that you can have a person's unhappiness on your conscience.

I do not have the heart to be such a bitch.

I try not to think about it - but it's hard to do that, at school, when the march from locker to class to locker to home is one long lonely march. But when I think about it too much, I start to cry. I cry like I cried over K, over rochester. I did not think this would cut so deep.

I knew that I would never be able to fully crack into the group. I knew that after high school we would part ways and probably never see or speak to each other again. I knew I would never have what my sister has, even now after her friends have taken their own paths. I knew that you would organize party after party, event after event, and overlook my invitation. I knew all of that. But beggars can't be choosers - I thought I could endure that, in exchange for a little company, a little kindness, just until graduation. I never knew that you had it in you to be so heartless.

You got rid of me easily. I have no intention of crawling back, begging. But you know I'm the kind of person who has to talk to heal. So I'm going to keep talking.

there are so many things that could be said.

Specifically, there are so many things that have been said. There has been so much dialogue between us. I remember each word said about you, to you, with you, against you.There are things that you know, and I don't; things that I wish I could scream at you, instead of smiling blandly. There are so many things I can never say.

Maybe not for you. But for me.

I told you, words mean everything to me. It is so strange that they seem to mean nothing to no one. Without words, I am nothing. That is why I mean so little to my so-called friends, to you.  

It is so hard to pretend like we are perfect strangers. Is that all we are? It seems like such a waste. When what has been said has been said, how can we go back to something so banal?

I do not like being in love. It has never given me a moment of joy. I am the most useless at gambling, at playing. If I could I would turn it off, just for a little while, and let myself get on with my life. I know people think that I am aiming too high, but the truth is, I am not aiming. I know you are too high, and if this were a rational, reasoned decision none of this would ever happen. I never intend any of this bullshit to happen; it just does. I wish I could be indifferent to you. I am indifferent to so many others, so many others who have been much kinder to me than you have been.

In eight months you and I will go our separate ways. I have spent half my childhood in a university, and I know just how big it is. I'll lose myself in it, and I doubt I'll see you again. There is nothing to miss about you except the little patter of my heart and the wealth of foolish things I have said and done. It is hard seeing you everywhere. You seem to be absolutely everywhere I go. It will be easier when you and I are out of sight, out of mind. Because, knowing me, it doesn't matter what you do or what you become; I am just being silly and irrational.

I was almost indifferent to you. I was almost at the point where you were nothing more than a pleasant acquaintance. You ruined that, and no amount of deleting or forgetting or whinging is going to erase that completely, not yet.

I am sure you did not mean it. You're careless, but not cruel. But you got into my bubble, and now I am in a world of hurt.

spirallingwhitelily

i am the crowned queen
of no-man's land
princess of
nothing in particular.

can you see my coronet
sparkle in the candlelight?

i am laced
tight
in bright white light
and silver lace
curling
softly

down the arches of my back
and hips
and breasts...

a creamy waterfall of
white silk
and an obsidian tumble of
black curls

i am a porcelain doll
made of
caramelandhoney

of rouge
and roses
and champagne.

my darkhawkeyes
are hidden
behind
lace, sparkle and silk.

without my kohl
and black satin

i am not the lady of the night.

just for one day

i am just an innocent
spirallingwhitelily

dreaming of nothing

darker
or more sordid

than a knight in shining armour.

and, perhaps,
a kiss.

they all stop and stare

at me

and the boy who has me
on his arm.

they whisper to me
and amongst themselves
what they should have said
could have said

long, long ago...

i take his hand
and his, and his

as carefree
as a barefoot milkmaid.

come with me

come dance.

self portrait at the ball

The 2012 Perth Modern School Presidential Elections

First of all, this is not an attack on either of the candidates of this year's elections. I know them both reasonably well and they are the nicest, smartest, most capable young men. Both would make perfectly good presidents. This is not a critique on the outcome of the elections, but how the elections were run and how they will continue to be run if we don't stand up for our rights. This is not to say that one is better than the other, or that we want one more than the other. What we want is a fair election to prove that we get the properly-elected candidate as our school president.

Last year we held elections for the 2012 School President - the leader of the Student Council and the representative of the student body. The elections were run by one of the politics teachers, and the votes were counted and scrutinized by students. The results were public, and we had a president fair and square.

Then, this year, admin insisted on the year elevens voting for School President as well - this has not been done before for as long as anyone can remember, and is hardly fair seeing as both the candidates are year twelves and do not have much to do with the year elevens, who have their own student councillors.

The year eleven voting was supervised by admin. It was online, not compulsory or even properly advertised, there was no real, proper campaigning, and the results were not publicized. All we know is that suddenly a new president was announced, and he has not been allowed to step down or share responsibilities with the other candidate.

This has, obviously, caused some problems. We don't know how the year eleven vote has affected the result, but we're not worried about that; we're worried about whether the admin has had any influence on the result. For us, it is no great tragedy, because both candidates are amazing and either would do a great job in representing us. But this is a matter of integrity. The role of school president is one that is supposed to be democratically elected by the graduating class, not decided by bureaucracy. In our eyes, both candidates are equal and had an equal chance of winning; but there has to be a fair and square winner, and at the moment there is not. What are the consequences if we allow admin to continue to meddle in student affairs?

As a student body, we have the right to choose who we want to represent us. We have the right of majority rules, not admin rules. We have the right to transparent, fair, democratic elections. We want the year eleven vote to either be dismissed completely, or redone properly. We want the results to be public, fair, and transparent. Then, we will accept whoever has been properly elected.

I don't know how long it's going to take to feel okay.

I don't know how long it's going to take before I stop feeling like a short tubby eight year old with a snotty nose and scabby knees and nobody to talk to.

I have no qualms about guilt tripping you. I'm not going to fake a smile and let you walk away from me, guilt-free. I'm not going to pretend that I'm okay with all of this. I'm not. I put so much love and energy and time into this, and now I feel robbed. You have no idea what it's like to have an empty inbox; no invites to the millions of parties that were on this weekend. You have no idea what it's like to realize that out of the million ball pictures, not one of them has you in it. You have no idea how fucking humiliating it is to plan things, then realize you have nobody to invite.

Don't you dare tell me that it'll 'take a little while to get used to'. I had sixteen years to figure that out. Don't look so shocked when I tell you that I have no-one else. You know that I have no-one else. Some of the people in our grade have been friends for nearly a decade. It's year twelve. It's too late to gatecrash now. You never get used to being alone, being lonely, feeling little and lost.

You have never respected me as a friend. You have never respected me as a person with equal say, with feelings and opinions. You have never treated me like you treat the others.

But now, you barely respect me as a person. 

some people that i used to know.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Friends slip through my hands like a wet bar of soap. Sometimes it's my fault. Sometimes it's not. Either way, friends come and go like boats at a dock.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

I'm sixteen, and graduating. I wasn't supposed to be so alone. I wasn't supposed to be walking down the hall in my leavers jacket, saying hi to a bunch of faces who ignore me. I wasn't supposed to be fighting back tears and forcing myself to pluck up the courage to talk to people who have 'go away' written all over them.

Pour mon ami, mon rochester et ma mère:

I know and you know that you won't choose me over them. I'm not a fool. Society means more to anyone than I ever could. What do I have to offer? Obscurity. Loneliness. Ostracization. Nobody would want to be alone as I am. I don't want to be alone as I am. But here we are. You have a choice, and you're taking it. I don't.   

You said that you'd always be there for me. In my world, stuff like that means something. But you were the first person to run for the hills, and I was the one who had to cut the cord. I didn't believe you for a heartbeat, not really; but for a very, very brief moment I would have been content to lay aside what I wanted for so long for a humble friendship. For once I really need someone, anyone. I miss my Tom Riddle's diary, even all the empty promises and the meaningless flirting and insincere flattery. But you're here but not here.

I honestly don't know why you have stuck with me for these last sixteen years. I used to run out the front door and race to school to escape the house, but now I find myself wishing I was back at home, eating your food, forgetting who I am in your embrace. You're never there when I need you the most; you're never with me to fight in the battlefield that school has become. The other girls who call their mothers a bitch don't realize what it is to have no friend like your mother, no friend but your mother.

Why am I so out of place? Why do I constantly have to censor and edit myself? Why is it, despite these revisions, retakes, and an endless, endless forgiveness, am I still left in the dark? I cut off and hide away so much of myself, and yet still...still I cannot even pretend to be normal. But I'm tired of pretending to be someone to make friends, to find love. You do not see one tenth of the darkness, the passion, the hate that is locked away, for now. I don't have the courage to let that fly, not yet, anyway - not now that I have been crushed.

I was born who I am. I don't think I deserve this, for that.

pretension and mediocrity.

if you're goIng to do someThing, give it your all. be pasSionate about what you do; be pasSionate abOut living.

people are terrified what other people think about them, and it makes them pretentiouS. i hate people who go All alternative just for the hell of it, rather than actually believing in what they're doing. the kinD of people who boycotT the 40-Hour famine becAuse poverTy has become trendy or something, or labellIng themselves as anti-feminists just because it's suddenly become Hip to pick on feminists. being alternAtive for the sake of being alternatiVe is actually thE most ridiculous thing. i can be pretty weird sometimes. i don't use shampoo anYmore, becausE i've done my research and i've decided i don't wanT such a cocktail of chemicals so close To my brain. i listen tO alternative music because i like alternative music - that being said, i used to like justin bieber, and i have no problem with the fact that i have 50 taylor swiFt songs on my ipod. I am what i am, alternative or maiNstream or whatever. people are so quick to label, judge, conform. why? why why why?

meDiocrity. whoever thinks that pretending that you don't like thiS, don't knOw that, is cool, is an idiot. there is no shame in being aMazingly awesomE at something - it makes yOu an amaziNgly awesomE person. they don'T give out prizes to the most Reluctant person, or the most average person, or the person with the best i-don't-wanna-be-here-this-is-lame face. the world only remembers the best and the worst. the people in the middle are forgotten; they vanish, into a void.

everyone has become one and the same -  one-dimentional, conformist mediocre. it feels like a crime to be different, a crime to be genUine, real, passionate. i feeL like people look down on me, like i have no self control or something. but why should i trY and change who i am? how will i ever get self-satisFaction or pride or lovE or acceptAnce, if i pretend to be something i'm not? how will i be able to live as someone else how will i be able to live, being loved not foR me, but for a mask? how do people Live with that?

it takes couragE to be different. but it takeS even more courage to be yourSelf.