idiotic me

Is it just me? Why is it that to me, words and pictures make more sense than random Mathematics equations that teachers just tell me are laws and rules? Though, to tell the truth really, English is struggling too. I really shouldn't have picked English Language. But all these subjects are interesting to me. Not the calculations but rather, the applications. I wish I could find something- anything really that I was good at. Really good at. When I was young I wished to excel at one thing and not really any others. But yet, with the onset of having to choose a life career when one has no personality, it really seems impossible. I'm not the only one that feels that way it seems. Nevertheless, a possibility could be that I am simply lazy, a possibility in which I can fully understand. But can you tell me how you can stand putting your head down and writing line after line of numerical squiggles which worm themselves away from you till you're left wondering 'What is it that I am doing?' How does one do that? How does one discipline themselves into- that. How can you stand it when you see the sun blooming behind the slats of your window? Or when you imagine a million, literally a million, not figuratively, things that you'd rather be doing? Wouldn't you rather taste the colours of the rainbow? And here I'm not speaking about eating skittles, but instead drawing endlessly playing with the texture, the shape and form of these objects that gently appear on the page that I'm only just starting to get a glimpse of. But no. My thoughts have to be strung, cohesive and orderly. There is method in my madness.- Or at least- I tend to try imagine so. Or hope so. Or pray so because I wouldn't be able to stand it if there wasn't.

Or think so because parallel syntactical structures are cool like that.

Sitting on the stairs of the locker bays, I pan my view to the skies. They're bright and blue, an antilogy to the wind which beats into my blazer leaving me, as usual, shivering and dreaming of dark hot chocolate with marshmallows. When I say 'hot chocolate', I mean the denotative meaning of the lexeme, not the connotative one. I'm still dreaming of this when I hear a voice. A voice of a bird cawing. A damned raven is sitting on the branch with blue eyes, a shade lighter than the sky I see. We stare at each other. I know that I'm crazy because a part of me believes that it knows me. Encaptured by this bird, I can't take my eyes off it. It speaks to me. It speaks to me of dark and sad things and things I can't explain. It speaks to me of an empty place of a missing person. It speaks to me of reflection, regret and reason. And lastly it speaks of hope and hope being crushed. It cocks it's head to the side. Caws one last time. Then hops, off the branch, across the path and behind the bays where I hear the sound of it taking off, almost as if it didn't want me to watch it's magnificent flight. And leaves me to sit and stare where it once was. To reflect, regret and to reason.

and blah. exams blah. mum's coming back today blah. she's going to have a fit when she sees my room blah. I don't think i'll blog anymore blah. I don't know blah. blarghhhhhh.

chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem. chem.

yeah. procrastinating. fun.

Yes...

It's funny. How the smallest little comment can make you insecure. And that's all I'm saying.

Not to you.

What. is. wrong. with. you.? Not you. RAWR. rwag. ylitliug. Did I mention RAWR? and rage/

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I'm siiiick TT__TT I could breathe this morning. Not so much now. But I could... *sigh* it's getting worrrrrrrse. Then tomorrow it's braces time. *sigh*.

17

In one month, I will turn seventeen. In one month, I will feel no different because when I turned sixteen, nothing happened and life forged on. When you turn a year older, you expect things to be different. After all, it's a year, right? A whole three hundred and sixty five (or four) days which consist of twenty four hours each and 60 minutes within each our, you'd expect that after all that time something would happen. Or maybe it was so gradual that I didn't notice. Years are defined by human terms. As I type this, I am reminded of a book that Tamora Pierce wrote. The character Keladry was passing over the border of a country into another and was surprised that it looked exactly the same. Borders are defined by human terms, and years are defined by human terms.

But I guess change comes so gradually in life that we hardly notice. You don't see the grass growing, you just notice it's taller. You don't notice when the change is occurring, you just see the outcome. But is the change necessarily bad? Because something has changed, does that mean it's bad.? I guess I'm kinda wondering. Because I have changed, am I- bad? Of course, if I do ask people that, the obvious thing they would reply is a joke or saying 'Of course not.' But in all seriousness (am I too serious...), is me changing a bad thing? Because I honestly like who I am. Well, not all of me. I'm not perfect, but I don't want to change things about me o_o. But is that bad? Ugh. The circle and train of thoughts that loop around your mind.

The current world's view is that "It's okay to be yourself". That's what people are convincing each other, but we all know that that's just words. I have no clue why it's this way. Maybe we all try to convince ourselves that we're really good-hearted people when, really, we're not. Or maybe that's just me = P Oh well. Time to stop thinking again.

To you, for who else would read this >_>

*sigh*. For reasons unknown, it feels as though the days just fly by. And though I said I highly anticipated the future, I regret that there never seems enough time. In two days, I can only get 1 piece of homework done. I feel so stuck. But how to stop this listless feeling that freezes me in this block of time?

A quote from 'The Girl Who Leapt Through Time' summarises my current train of thought perfectly.

"Time waits for no one." Yes, I know, it's probably not the first time that that idiom has been mentioned, but it sounds way cooler when they say it because they have heavy Japanese accents. Which basically means that I have to get more active and somehow find a way to get more energy. Which would be hard to do as my parents regard anything to do with going outside as unsafe and doing anything extra-curricular would interfere with my studies. Perhaps it is the internet eating away my precious time, as although I come home and resolve to stay away, for some reason or another, I convince myself of the need to use my computer for one purpose or another and soon enough, my whole evening is gone. And all I know is that I see a bed and that it calls me.

So I bid you farewell, kind gentleman, for reading this. I suspect you have more time to waste than I if you actually want to read this stuff >_>. lol. cya.