Dear John

Now Playing: Somebody That I Used To Know by Gotye ft. Kimbra (now you're just somebody that I used to know) 

It is strange to think that we have spent all day, every day of the last few years in such close proximity, and yet I hardly think of you, hardly see you. I learned to pretend to forget long before I actually forgot; to say that I didn't care when you were all I cared about. But now...there's nothing, not even hollowness. For a long time now you have meant as little to me as I have always meant little to you.

The only times I've ever thought of you was whether or not I should talk to you - wave, say hi, smooth things over before I truly leave you and everything else behind me. There is so much bad blood between us, and it is sad to leave school with unfinished business. But I've thought it over, talked it over with a friend I love dearly, and there is no use - no use in trying to start a conversation, no use at all. We have nothing to say to each other.

You cared too much about what other people think. You never understood me, how easily touched I am by kindness, by generosity. And you took that away from me - for so long I thought it didn't exist, or that it existed for other people and I wasn't worthy. Sometimes people say that I let others get away with what I let you get away with, and perhaps I do. But at least I have something to thank them for - at least some people tried to fix me. You only ever tried to break me.

So many people ask how I let you get to me, get under my skin, completely destroy me. Nothing happened, after all. But they only know half the story, and I think you only know half the story. You convinced me I wasn't good enough, never good enough. I wasn't good enough to talk to, to look at, to touch - I wasn't good enough for a proper relationship, not even for a proper breakup. It doesn't take three days to imprint something as cruel as that into someone; it takes all of three minutes, three seconds. When you let someone get close, and that's what they say to you, it can completely destroy you. That's what I've been fighting with; looking at myself and knowing I wasn't good enough, never good enough. You put that in my head and its taken years and years to hold my head high and demand some respect. You put that in my head when you pointed at that boy and swore he would never look twice at me, and I believed you.

Do you know how defeating it is, to always have that in the back of your mind? It's like a disease. You don't care about yourself anymore, you stop caring. When people hurt you, you wonder whether you deserve it, if that's just part of life. The only thing worse than longing is longing for something you think you'll never have. I wanted so badly to replace you, to show you that I could do better. I wanted to tell myself that you were a liar, that I do deserve the world, that I haven't done anything to deserve a hurt. But nobody...nobody proved you wrong. Until now.

I haven't replaced you, I've gone above you. You wouldn't understand that, though. Part of me wishes I could let you in on my secret, to watch your face fall. Yes, I'm still that childish. It is indescribable, after so long of being the ugly duckling, to be irresistible, for someone to think of you as beautiful. All I ever wanted was someone to enjoy my company, and for me to enjoy theirs. I wish I could tell you that, that not everyone thinks of me as a gargoyle you used to condescend to talk to every now and again. But I won't. Because unlike you, I respect my friends, and you are not worth the betrayal. I remember you would barely look at me, barely touch me, lest someone see. Let them see! Fuck the general consensus - you were never brave enough for that, but instead of admitting that you blamed it all on me, told me I wasn't good enough. But I'm not thirteen and gullible anymore, I'm not thirteen with the self esteem of a shoelace, I'm not thirteen with no self-respect to speak of. I know things, and I've done things, that you cannot even dream of. I'm sixteen with so much to give, and I'm done with throwing pearls before swine. Everything is dangerous and reckless, but I'd go to hell and back to prove you wrong. It's you who's not good enough, never good enough. You were never good enough, and you will never be good enough for me.

Sometimes I like to think that you're still a friend, that you still silently cheer me on when you hear my name. But I've seen you too many times and there are no secret smiles, no words of apology, no chance to forgive and forget, no offers to bury the hatchet and make it a loving cup. It is as if we are perfect strangers, that you never smiled at me, never laughed with me. Maybe. Maybe I just dreamed it all.

I would have forgiven you. I would have said sorry, for everything I've done, for everything I've imposed on you. I would have been glad to have been friends again - I would never let you so close, ever again, but it would have been nice, to have a smile in the corridor. Would you forgive me now, if I said sorry like this? I hope you forgive me for ruining our friendship, I hope you forgive me for expecting too much of you, I hope you forgive me for letting you hurt me when I am sure, so sure, you did not mean it. If you had made any attempt, I would have accepted it. You never did. All that I know is I don't know how to be something you miss.

When I stop writing about you, people think I'm okay. I was over everything a long, long time ago - almost before it was over, I was over it, because I was so unsatisfied - I had seen you with other people, and I couldn't understand why that never happened to us. You were a friend that I lost, and that is that. You were never any more to me. We were both so young, and this has all been very silly. It's that feeling, that feeling of unworthiness, that hurt. I was never over that. Not a day went past when I didn't look at myself in the mirror and wonder what I did wrong. I buried myself in pushing my way to the top, because that was all I knew how to do - to crawl my way up, let the underdog win and make everyone happy at another battler story, even though these people had done nothing to help me and would cut me down, given half a chance, when the poppy grew too tall. I gave up on finding someone to prove you wrong; I started to think that you were right, that maybe I had overreached myself.

But then I did. I did find someone to prove you wrong. That boy...that boy you swore would never look twice at me...has done a lot more than that. Nothing will happen, he's a friend, but he is the friend that I never had, the friend you should have been. Sometimes he hurts me, sometimes he lets me down, sometimes he reminds me of you. But I hate comparing him to you, because you were never half the friend that he is.

And so, I have faith. I'll do everything you told me was impossible, I'll get everything you said I was unworthy of. All of us are beautiful in our own way, and you were cruel to tell me otherwise, and I was a fool to believe you. There is nothing I cannot do, once I put my mind to it.

You broke a little girl's heart, and thought nothing of it. Well, think again. Think again.

A Thousand Thousand Fearless Things #64

Now Playing: Long Live by Taylor Swift (all the years we stood there on the sidelines wishing for right now)

#568: iTunes just decided that it don't like Korean no more. Racist bitch.

#569: I'm short. Between the hem of my (admittedly significantly altered) school shorts and the top of my knee highs there's about three inches of bare thigh. Get over it. 

#570: Finally, I wake up early enough to not rush out the door entirely bare faced. I know I look kinda sick without makeup.

#571: I remember the days when I couldn't button up my school shorts. Now they just balance vaguely on my hips, with a big gap between the waistline and my back, just waiting to drop straight to my ankles. How times change. 

#572: Okay, comparing my friend's thumb to my iPod, I can kind of understand the complaints that the 5th gen nano is too small. 

#573: Defected from Firefox to Google Chrome. Google Chrome has automatic spellcheck. Is slightly annoying. Especially as there is now a red squiggly line under the word 'spellcheck'. 

#574: Fights with a friend's new boyfriend on Facebook. We love you, Baby E. 

#575: Yes, Carly Rae Jepsen. Got a problem with it? :P

#576: Somebody used my mug. Without my permission. And didn't wash it. Now it's got fossilized coffee goop all over it. Not overly impressed.  

On Legs

Now Playing: Dressin' Up by Katy Perry (are you ready for your blood to rise?)

I am well aware of the scars on my legs.

Which may be an odd thing to say, seeing as they're my legs and I do see them on a pretty regular basis, but the way some people harp on about it...I think they forget that I do see myself in the shower, you know.

The scars have been there for a long time. I'm a pretty klutzy person; I was a very clumsy kid, and I got into a lot of scrapes. My knees were more or less permanently scabby from about four to about ten, and I've still got scars from that.

I first got chicken pox at the ripe old age of eleven, so that's what most of the older scars are - the ones that are mostly fading now. The rest are just mosquito bites, allergies...who knows?

Am I self conscious? A little. I don't like it when people ask, but it's worse when they don't say nothing and just stare. They used to be a lot worse - they used to bleed, and I used to have to carry bandaids with me everywhere. Now they're just smooth purple marks and I don't really notice them anymore.

So I don't have a contagious disease. I know about my scars, and telling me about them won't do anything about them. Scars...physical scars fade. It's the more metaphysical hurts that still sting.

Alone.

Now Playing: Decode by Paramore (Do you see what we've done? We've gone and made such fools of ourselves...)

They never told me you have to do so much growing up alone. In solitude. That people can do things to you, but the consequences...you're on your own for that.

I said before that more and more often words fail me, that I can't tell so many people so many things, and even when I trust them enough sometimes words utterly fail me. I cannot...I cannot describe how I feel, the exquisite rush of being young, being alive; the pain and pleasure almost in equal measure. I wish I could explain to one person, just one person...but I don't have that person. I don't know if I have someone who could understand me, perfectly.

I used to think that things didn't effect people, that other people weren't like me - that other people couldn't be reduced to tears or sent soaring in the clouds by a word, or a person, or a kiss. The feeling of being surrounded by people who wouldn't, or couldn't care...it killed me. Everything rushed through me, new and fresh and intense, an everyone else seemed to function with total apathy. But then I realized...people do feel this way, people do do things, just for the hell of it, just for the rush...but we just have to hide it, pretend otherwise. Why? Why?

This is just all so new. It's weird, after so long sitting on the sidelines, wishing for right now...and now right now's here and it's the strangest feeling, euphoria and dread all mixed up and confused. This is the year, the year that I brought upon myself a year too early, where everything happens, all at once - academic and personal, anything that can happen just happens, with no warning and no instructions and no turning back. It's the year of snap judgements and split-second decisions, a time when once you say 'yes' or 'no' the ram has touched the wall and there's no going back. It's exhilarating but it's also very...disorienting. 

The only way to live is to regret nothing. Growing up would be so much harder if I wasted any time feeling guilty, or dirty, or cheap, or kicking myself for things that cannot be undone. I live on impulse - I do things without thinking, I do things for the rush, for the feeling, for the experience, for the hell of it - I do things because I don't want to miss out, I want to have those kind of memories that make your fingertips tingle with me, always. It's dangerous and reckless and vulnerable, but I know exactly what it takes to feel alive. But nobody warned me...nobody warned me I'd be so alone for all of this, that I'd have no one to talk to, and the people I did talk to can't empathise the way they used to. Surely...surely other people have been in my situation. Surely somebody, in some time and place, must have turned sixteen and watched wide-eyed and excited as doors that were sealed shut suddenly thrust open, somebody must have suddenly been thrown head first into - well, into growing up, changing colour. So why do I feel so alone in this?

Lolita

You could not resist, could you
You said you would not, could not

I thought I had lured you out to play
But I scarcely know
Who's the hunter and
Who's the hunted.

There have been flickers
Just little moments
Times when you looked at me

As if the little death
Is something I should know

Do I wear Red Riding Hood's cloak
Or a matador's cape?

I sang nursery rhymes in my dreams
But I was alone in the woods
When you bared your teeth

The ram has touched the wall either way.

I just..
I just wanted to know what it was like.

Click here for a discussion of Lolita

A Thousand Thousand Fearless Things #63

Now Playing: Never Let Me Go (Unplugged) by Florence + The Machine (and it's peaceful in the deep, cathedral where you cannot breathe, no need to pray, no need to speak)

#561: Nothing cuter than a crazy vegan Texan in love. Love you, Baby E

#562: Nosebleed :(

#563: Aside from the fact it feels like my lungs are being hacked up by a chainsaw every time I have a coughing fit, I'm fine :P

#564:...I just realized the word 'odor' is in 'deodorant'. Well, in my defence, IT'S NOT SPELT CORRECTLY

#565: We're all growing up, everything they said would happen is happening, and even though we've all known, all wished, all prayed and fidgeted impatiently for all this stuff to come now it's coming and we're all scared.

#566: A Streetcar Named Impossible To Write An Essay About

#567: I pinky promise.  

A Thousand Thousand Fearless Things #62

Now Playing: Decode by Paramore (How can I decide what's right when you're clouding up my mind? I can't win, you're losing fight...) 

#554: It's so nice to know you care

#555: Well, I was hungry today, so I guess I'm getting better

#556: There's nothing on TV ever. I ate lunch in miserable silence.

#557: Argan oil on my lips. Because petroleum jelly is for suckers.

#558: I don't think I can accurately describe the weird sensation of rubbing solid clay on your face...

#559: Ah, sandalwood powder, where have you been my whole life?

#560: Really bizarre cravings. I thought I was sick, not pregnant.  

the complete bullshit of privilege passes.

Now Playing: Wide Awake by Katy Perry (I was in the dark, I was falling hard with an open heart, how did I read the stars so wrong?)

A couple of days ago I got a little stapled up piece of paper (it was all very secret agent) in form telling me that I'd become eligible for a privilege pass, which is basically just a little card that gives you a little freedom. In theory.

To be honest, I don't know how I got that. I think last semester I wasn't eligible because I had lots of absences, but maybe admin finally realized that illness and trips to the hospital doesn't exactly qualify as serial truancy. My school attendance is otherwise pretty good, mostly because I have Asian parents and I'm far too chicken to simply walk out of school grounds (which I probably should have yesterday before the psychotic PE department dragged me bowling). But I'm pretty sure that to get a privilege pass you need something along the lines of 'satisfactory academic achievement' - which is a debatable concept, granted, but I'm pretty sure getting a snarky little comment from the (never been a principal before in her life bureaucrat) principal about how shit my Politics exam was doesn't qualify as 'satisfactory academic achievement'. But hey, it's just one of the many absurd idiosyncracies and hypocrisies of the school, like how I was kicked out of Sphinx Society for the two terms (and hopefully three) I've been top in English but was invited in the one term another person beat me to it.

I didn't bother applying. Mostly because tomorrow is the deadline, and suprise suprise, I'm under house arrest. But also...what's the point?

With a privilege pass, you can skip free periods - but only if they're first or last. I don't have any free periods, because I'm a good little nerd who takes six subjects (oh, the irony that it's the nerds who miss out). You can also leave during lunch...to do what? What exactly can you do in half an hour? Stand just outside the school gates singing niner-niner?

Sigh.

I've become very cynical of late. Maybe it's to do with the fact that I've had a more or less permanent headache since Saturday, or because I've grown up enough to see the random crap behind the sunshines and rainbows of life. Or maybe I am too smart for my own good; I think we all are. My dog Bella is a wonderful dumb blonde, and has a wonderful life.

I wonder if she'll swap places with me?   

the meaning of meaning.

Now Playing: Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine (and yes this has been on repeat lately...it's like the musical ramen noodles)

Sorry there haven't been a lot of meaningful posts of late.

I've been sick.

And theres not much to talk about at home except for the fact that you can't eat bananas innocently.

I was up to my usual shenanigans (more or less) before the Perth Mod PE department decided to kill me.

Not actually.

You know what I mean.

Lots of love.

A Thousand Thousand Fearless Things #61

Now Playing: The Build Up by Kimbra (I want the jump but not the height, let me fall but catch me mid flight)

#543: 1000 posts! (well, technically, 1001 now...)

#544: I love you, miss, but 'seeked' is not a word...

#545:...we may have broken someone today...

#546: Laughing fit :)

#547: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!! (our psych teacher is EPIC)

#548: I don't know what purpose or pleasure is derived from dragging an invalid to a noisy, smelly, chaotic bowling alley...to do nothing...

#549: I can't trust anyone at school anymore

#550: Be better than the rumour mill

#551: 'I think it's on fire...'

#552: Gotta love the technology at school. 

#553: I'll let you in on a little secret: most girls use their bras as storage, but not many will admit it.