Friday, 28 December 2012

Crappy News

My aunt has Cancer. For the third time, too. You'd think that after a certain point of pain and struggle that life would give you a little break, no? Well, not for my aunt.
I can't believe this is happening to her. I don't know how she can do it, survive this. They're not sure how bad it is, or even where it is, but they know she does have it. She also has this fluid build up in her stomach, and they might have to do surgery on it to drain it. For now, they're just trying to trace where the fluid build-up is happening in the body.
I just can't believe that this is happening to her. But she's strong. She's the strongest person I know. You know the second time she had Cancer, the doctor told her that if she didn't take the chemotherapy  she would die within the month. She didn't do it. That was seven years ago.
And the first time, over eight different doctors said that she had to buy a wig because with the chemotherapy she would definitely lose her hair.
She never lost one strand.
I love her so much, she's so strong, and she doesn't let anything get her down.
If I could, I would trade places with her, and take the cancer just so she could live, and I swear, whether you believe it or not I would. I love her to death. And it will break my heart to see her have to go through this again, not knowing if this will be the time that it finally claims her.
And the saddest part is, in her head, this is probably what she's thinking,
"Shit, okay. I have Cancer again. Fuck. Well, I'll just have to do the whole thing again. Okay, baby steps. Let's do this."
She's the bravest person I know too. She's a fighter that one, a soul stronger than most. I just hope that she makes it through. I'm so scared, and I don't even have Cancer. I just want her to be okay.

Tuesday, 25 December 2012


Christmas is here, bringing good cheer, to young and old, meek and the bold.
Carol of the Bells, best Christmas song ever.
Now, if you're not a Christmas person, then that's fine. I'm not really that Christmas-y either. But I do love the presents. For Christmas, I don't get anything big really, just a little present. But I still love it, opening it up with my cup of eggnog and my Christmas bread. I just love it.
The best thing about Christmas is lunch time.
We always go to my family, my loud, obnoxious family. My cousins are crackheads (not literally, but that's they're nicknames because they're absolutely mad), my aunts are talkative and my grandmother is very easy to annoy. The lunch always ends with a fight, a fight with the adults and people walking out, slamming the over-used door behind them.
It's crazy. It's hectic, but still, I love it. It proves to me that even though everyone ends up hating each other by the end of the day, they still come back each year, for another round of family fun.
So, this is just a really quick blog to say Merry Christmas to everyone! And if you don't celebrate Christmas, Happy Holidays!

Saturday, 22 December 2012


Yesterday, I just found out something that broke me. As it turns out, my boyfriend cheated on me the day before, with a girl I know relatively well.
I won't say her name, but I'll just call her Jane in here. And his name will be John.
So, Jane and John made out on Thursday. Apparently they were both drunk, but I wasn't there so I wouldn't know about it. Now, I know it might not be a big deal for some of you but we're teenagers, and right now kissing is all we do. Or, all that me and my friends do anyway.
This was a big deal to me. I actually really liked this guy, and I thought that he really liked me. When I was with him I felt happy, and when we kissed I felt special, like I was the only one.
Well, I guess I'm not anymore.
And I was the last to know. You see, Jane called me up, and told me the news. She apologized, and I said thanks for telling me, and it was okay. You know that moment when you say it's okay and you act normal but inside you feel like you're dying inside and you just feel this empty void where your heart just shattered into dust. Well that's what happened to me. I just hung up the phone, and broke down. I started crying, and I just wanted to throw something. So then I call my best friend, and he was with some friends. So I told him what happened, and he goes,
"Oh, so you know about the John thing huh?" And then I hear his friends in the background going, "Oh shit, she knows about the John thing," It was like I was some little child while they were all adults and they were talking about something that I 'wasn't aloud to know yet'. It sucked.
I was sort of with him since around April, but it wasn't official until September. But I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Am I supposed to break up with him? Am I supposed to just accept that it was a mistake and that it won't happen again?
What am I supposed to do?

Friday, 14 December 2012


 "Writing is the only thing that, when I do it, I don't feel I should be doing something else" ~Gloria Steinem
I absolutely and totally love to write. It is in the very essence of my being, it's as much a part of me as the fingers that type and the eyes that scan over the words. When I write, I get lost in the words, in the story that my mind is creating. I get consumed by the character, I become them, who they are, what they feel, what they've felt, and what they'll do next.

I want to become a writer when I'm older. Well, not that I don't feel like one now, what I mean by that is, a published author. Most girls dream of becoming famous, while I dream of walking into a bookstore and seeing my book on the bestseller shelf. I don't want to be famous, I want my writing to be famous. I want people to read my words, and just relax, get lost in the story, and finish with a resounding thought in their head; that it was a really good book.

I long for the day when the ideas in my head become published, and then I long for the day when I can watch a movie about the ideas that started in my head.

When I start writing something, I have no idea what I'm doing. It's just a little trigger in my head that says, "Chill, I've got this. Now just let me work your fingers." Most of the time I don't even really know what I'm writing, and then when it's done, I just suddenly, know.

I'm working on a novel right now; one in a series of seven. Or six. Not really sure, I might combine book six and seven into one book.

I love poetry too. Well, I'm picky. I like poems that rhyme, I like poems that talk about how I'm feeling inside, and I am a huge fan of slam poetry. I could listen to slam poetry all day long. I find it incredible. I also find the recitation of it good to. I wrote a slam poem once, and I got up in front of a crowd and said it. At first, I was a bit nervous, but I knew I had it. I had memorized it completely, hand gestures, words, when to shout and when to be quiet. And I stood in front of the crowd, and said it. When I was done, the crowd was silent, as if it waiting for me to go on, continue with the story that was captivating them so much. When they realized I was done, they just clapped. You know that slow clap that people do when they think what they just saw was really amazing? That's what some people were doing; and it felt absolutely amazing. I felt incredible inside.

It's a rush, that's all writing is really. It's a rush of excitement, of thrill, of getting a story worth telling out there. It's like taking your heart out of your chest, all those feelings that have welled up inside and have made you swollen with emotion; writing is a way to just let it out, and no one will even really know what you mean, that's the beauty of it.

Tuesday, 11 December 2012

Life of Pi

Oh, wow. Life of Pi.
That was an insanely good movie.
The way they made that movie, how they fit everything together, was just incredible. I've never seen filmography done that well before. Props.

I loved how they made the entire boat white, and the water so calm, it just created this image of unworldliness. (I know it's not a word but I'm using it).

And the tiger was beautiful. I know sometimes you could tell it was CGI BUT COME ON! Like they would use a real tiger to shoot the movie. We would end up with many dead actors for Piscine Molitor Patel (I have no idea if I spelt that right).

When the tiger jumped out from under the tarpaulin, I jumped out of my skin. And I was so sad when the orangutan died!! And the island....gave me chills.

But really, when you think about it, this story had a much more meaningful message than just how to survive when you've got a tiger on board. It spoke paragraphs about the human mind. About survival of the fittest. About how it feels when you've got nothing left but the courage to go on. Pi never once really thought of just letting the tiger kill him; the fact that the tiger could kill him was what made him go on. Imagine that? You're out in the middle of the pacific ocean with no one else but a tiger. The only reason you have to live is; what? Your family's dead, no one in, well, anywhere realizes you're alive, and still; you want to live. Why?
Because all humans have that in them. The thing that makes them want to live. That one little reason, living, that shows in every single thing on this planet, not just humans. Birds, snakes, fish, animals of all kind, and even plants. We all want to live.

Now the question is; which story do you believe? I myself prefer the tiger story, because I'd like to believe in magic islands, even ones that will eat you alive if you stay too long, but that's just me. Which one do you believe?

Friday, 7 December 2012


I love to cut. It's sort of like, my guilty pleasure. I love it. I love the feeling of a blade going over my skin, the adrenaline rush. But don't worry about me, I sanitize my blades, I don't cut long and I don't cut deep. I just cut.

I mostly cut on my stomach, 'cause I don't really want anyone to know that I do it. In my school, like many others, if you cut, you're a loser. You're taunted and bullied mercilessly. It sucks.

I don't know why I cut, I just do. Nearly all of the times, it's cause I'm upset. It just takes everything away, I guess. I mean, it comes back after of course, but then I can deal with it. After I've put a bandage on my cut of course.

I don't mind having to wear a full swimsuit to the beach, even though every other girl there is wearing a bikini. I have my guilty pleasure.

I've told one or two people about it. They just say stuff like "Oh that's terrible" or "That's really bad for you,"
But it's not. Like I said, I don't cut hard, and I don't cut deep. Just little scrapes, really. No scars. They do away in a little while.

I guess I shouldn't really count myself as a cutter. But I do. Whatever.

The only times I really cut is when everything has just piled up on each other. My feelings sort of spin out of control, and I don't know what to do. Cutting takes it all away, and files it away in a proper place where I understand them, and then can try to fix them.

Did you know that approximately three teens in England cut themselves every minute?
That's a hell of a lot.

And to all of those Internet freaks who say "Cutting is stupid" or "Only attention-seekers cut".

You are so wrong it's not even funny. How can you just blatantly say that?
Not everyone just cuts because they want their mommy or daddy to notice. Some people cut because they're in pain, and they don't know how to make it go away.
Cutting is not stupid. It's a coping method. And a really good one. And if you think that cutting is just for attention-whores, well then I'm happy that your life so amazing that you don't ever know what it's like to be hurt, and to feel like you just want to lie down and die.

I don't know if maybe some of you feel the same way? Feel free to discuss it with me.

Tuesday, 4 December 2012


I'm addicted to music. It is a serious addiction that I really think I need to cure. But it's sooo good. When I listen to music, I feel at home, I feel like every note the singer belts out is part of my own skin, and that every tone and every melody is part of my own mind. It calms me, it soothes me, and it creates me.

But then, when I don't listen to music at all during the day, I become restless, I don't even know why. Like, I have to move, and I become more irritable. It's weird. It's like, I need to have my daily dose of Les Miserable songs, or maybe even my Evanescence shot. Does anyone else have this?

I also have a strong addiction with writing. I have to write something everyday; it can be anything, as long as I'm writing. I could work on one of my two books in process, or I could write a poem, or a short story, anything! As long as I'm putting my thoughts down on paper, I'm cured. If I don't write, I feel like every thing's closing in on me, like I'm being trapped inside my everyday life. Writing is an outlet, so to say, where it doesn't matter that I over-think things too much, in fact in writing, it's good to over think things, since it can create a more intense plot.

I'm also addicted to movies. Not TV shows, movies. It's not so bad as the first two addictions I have, but I have to watch movies whenever I can! I have a whole huge list of movies I want to see, and I watch like, three or four every week. I absolutely love it. Getting lost in the intensity of the movie, feeling as if you're actually watching people converse. I absolutely love it.

Well, those are my addictions. If any of you agree, then leave a comment!

Saturday, 1 December 2012

Listen to Me

This is my first time blogging, and there's a simple reason why I wanted to start. It's 'cause I need someone to listen to me. Someone who understands what I feel and someone to relate to. Because I don't want to spread my feelings to anyone, not anyone I know at least, and not anyone who knows me. That is my dilemma. But today, I'm writing my first post, one of many more to come, and all I'm asking is; listen to me.

I'm a teenager like any other. I get called weird at school, freak, weak, the works. I get called nerd. But it doesn't bother me, that much, I guess. Sometimes it does, but I try my best to shrug it off. And when I can't seem to get that horrid feeling out of my throat, when I know I'm about to cry. That's when I write.

In this blog, I'll talk about anything! From world issues to my personal problems to whatever Sheldon said on the Big Bang Theory, or about when new pictures get released for the second hunger games movie. I could talk about how it feels to be lonely, how I feel anyway. How I lie awake at night and just feel useless. The good and the bad! yay.
And if you, dear reader, want me to talk about anything, then feel free to ask, I'm open for any sort of discussion.

Well, this is all I have to say in my first ever post, but I'll be seeing you again shortly. But please, just give me a try, give me a chance. Maybe you just might find what I have to say interesting after all.