the drugging of a life time
Something interesting part 1
Once upon a time there was a young man named Pierre. he lived in a shit hole of a town in Colorado, he didn't make friends very easily because he was very introverted. He lived with his mother, Deborah, and his step father Bill. They were pretty good parents, his mom was quite protective and would blame others for his mistakes. Bill was a quiet man who would help Pierre with his homework when it got to hard, and would buy him the things his mom said he couldn't have. He liked to read, but not books, oh no. He liked to read stories written by people like him, on the internet, he liked a certain story. It was written by a boy named Patrick, who Pierre started talking with. He ate alone at lunch, until 'emo' came into style. All the girls with too much eyeliner and MCR tee-shirts wanted to sit by him. He wasn't into that scene, just because he didn't cut his hair and didn't talk much didn't mean he was one of them. He put up with their blabber and their bull shit but he'd head home and get online to talk with Patrick who would make Pierre feel much better with his up beat attitude and witty remarks. Pierre got a blog where he met this amazing kid named Andi, he happened to be friends with Patrick as well! They became the best of friends, Andi really helped Pierre come out of his shell. But alas, Pierre was still stuck in shitty Colorado with the fat chicks who's only desires were for Pierre to kiss another boy and let them film it.One day, Pierre's mother came to him and asked if he'd be alright with moving to Poland, to stay with family. He was over joyed; getting away from Stacy, Candi, and Marie! It didn't cross his mind until after he moved that he was far far away from the two people he actually liked, Patrick & Andi.
See bitch, I can write 'interesting' things that aren't just rants about how much I hate you.
OH MY GOD!! AM I BUGGING YOU YET!?!?! LOL COMMENT BACK!
Mr. Mojo Risin', Hold Me In Heaven's Arms
i'm really feeling like i should be done trying to help other people.Panic tel Confessional says:
oh lord this is so awkward. it's like dad just hit mom at the dinner table.
Cannabetes 2.0 (now including HIV!) says:
no it's the otherway around.
Panic tel Confessional says:
weeeeeeeeeell still. i feel like i should be the peacemaker, but... idk.
Cannabetes 2.0 (now including HIV!) says:
No, don't.
I'm just done.
Cannabetes 2.0 (now including HIV!) says:
It's your thing now. Not mine. I'll still be like 'OMGFANGRILLZLOL' but I don't think I'll be talking with them anymore other than the 'brighton wantsyou online'
Panic tel Confessional says:
but that's not tight, cause... well. you had the connection, you know? you knew all of them by voice. i just knew pete's font.
Cannabetes 2.0 (now including HIV!) says:
thats because im their little sister, youhave to talk to your little sister. but little sisters hate their big brothers.
Cannabetes 2.0 (now including HIV!) says:
thus: im done.
Panic tel Confessional says:
i hate this. i hate you not being happy, i hate that i have to feel the same shit you're feeling even though we're miles away. this is not okay.
Panic tel Confessional says:
for either of you, but no, i shouldn't say anything, because i said i wouldn't.
Cannabetes 2.0 (now including HIV!) says:
No, this is all flipped. it's supposed to be you who is upset and me who feels your pain but can't do anything because you won't let me.
Panic tel Confessional says:
it's not okay that joe just pretended shit, but it's not okay that you're willing to give up friendship with another two people because of one stupid idiot's decision.
and i'm not saying that you aren't allowed to feel things. you have just as much right as i do to slit your wrists or to drink yourself to death. it just bugs the hell out of me that you're willing to let it all go.
Panic tel Confessional says:
don't tell me that you never had fun talking to patrick, or leaving awful messages to ashlee on pete's answering machine. and you want to stop that all together because of one asshole?
Cannabetes 2.0 (now including HIV!) says:
i never said i wasnt going to prank call them
Cannabetes 2.0 (now including HIV!) says:
and honestly all my patrick talks have been because 'joe was busy'
Panic tel Confessional says:
still, didn't you have fun?
Cannabetes 2.0 (now including HIV!) says:
joe's not an asshole.
Cannabetes 2.0 (now including HIV!) says:
he didn't do anything wrong.
Panic tel Confessional says:
god. i don't even know why i try, i'm never going to be good at this. fine. if you're set in your decisions, then be set in them, dammit. i don't give a fuck anymore. i'm sick of trying to be sympathetic and just ending up sick to my stomach, crying because someone else is upset and i couldn't do anything.
Panic tel Confessional says:
so fine. do what you want.
and god, do i wish i were dead.
please, jim morrison. hold me in your arms and take me away from these people i wanted to help, these people who need me. take it all away.
Automatic, Automaginably
[originally posted about a second ago on blogger]At some point, you'd think one with my build of endurance and "oh, it's fine"s would be well-experienced with the searing pain that is disappointment, the stabbing in your heart called Loneliness. But that's the thing about us. We never really get over it. And thus, we live forever lonely and forever disappointed, because we never learn the lesson. For now, I'm saying that I have learned a lesson. That I can't rely on my friends to understand how I'm feeling. That they will never know how they're the only thing I have, and when they leave, I'm completely and utterly alone. There's no place like it.
For three months now, I've been planning on wearing a saran wrap dress to this little thing called Gallery Stroll. It's a lovely romp, and I'd usually die before considering attending again, [read: Rhymes] but not this time. I would work those rooms like the late shift at Smith's, as long as I had my saran wrap dress. However. That was three months ago. Three months since the idea was hatched, and three subsequent Gallery Strolls missed because of what? Disappointment. There's no way I'm going to Gallery Stroll alone, no matter what I'm wearing, because I'm not a fun person alone. I'm like the sugar additive in any drink. Just caffeine? Nasty. And now I'm going to have to wait until this time in September until I can go to Gallery Stroll. If then.
I'm just sick of waiting. By September, who knows what the situations will be? What if I'm not even friends with Diantha? What if I've completely lost the fun around the idea? I'll tell you one thing, I'm just about this close to saying Fuck It, What's The Point. And I think in this context, this does not last until September.
I am not a machine. Please stop trying to buy another compliance reaction, this unit has reached its quota.
Because I'm Awesome
Um, hello. My name is Andi Palmer,and I am very uninteresting.
I'm probably the strawberry in the group of flavors. You could have a lot better things, like Butter Pecan or Moose Tracks, but I'm strawberry. I'm semi-sweet. I'm the one you turn to in times of need, but still kind of hate.
And please never attempt to look in on my daily life.
It's mostly a cycle of Scrubs, internet, Dooce.com, iTunes, bathtime, and feeding.
Desperation
I'm sunk into a pit of desperation, I want myself to die. Everyone I know feels so far away.
Human Emotion
It means so much to me that like, emotion can happen. That anybody can take a heart and break it. That anybody can spill over such a thing as empathy.Click your heels three times.
There's no feeling like alone.
and oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, i could live off this picture alone:
http://lizzysmith56.buzznet.com/user/photos/?id=14504451
Me and Food, A Three Year Struggle
There's a smell wafting through the vents of this house, a smell of delicious chicken wraps and ceasar salad dressing, a smell that is delicious enough to get my mouth physically watering. And this is why I currently have all the eating problems I do, because of the damn temptation all those fatty foods hit me with. In no way am I blaming the institutions. I'm not going to go blaming Wendy's for the fact that I hate my body even though it's not overweight, not unhealthy, just misshapen in places. Who do I blame? Myself. I never thought I was going to be anorexic or bulimic or unhappy in any way. But I am.And so I'm looking forward so, so, much to the day when my body "fills out," so to speak. I can't wait until these flat parts where my hips belong are going to stop looking like all the meat was sliced off. I can't wait until I can prowl the house naked with the doors open.
I haven't posted a genuine entry on here in a long time, and that is because I'm sick of it. I'm sick of all the archival posts about how badly I felt. The posts whining about Patrick and his viddles, the posts where all I did was bramble on about "random" things and the color of some woman's hair. [by the way mine is now pink and purple, it reminds me of a barbie doll's if the barbie was owned by a young punk.] I used to hate the people who'd peddle their "real" blogs on this site, a.k.a. writing entire entries about how FUCKING GREAT their blogspot blog is. But now I sort of understand. Blogspot is a better site. It's sort of like comparing high schools, you either get the small and personal one, ClearBlogs, which is the underfunded art school, or you get the huge community, Blogspot, where nobody will ever notice you, but you have the opportunity to actually make your blog look tight.
It's a dilemna.
By the way: If you want to check out my Blogspot, it's here:
http://www.dharmamonsters.blogspot.com/
Over the months I've acquired more of an actual following, I suppose you could call it, on here. I have twenty-two friends, which is twenty-two more than I'd ever expected to get. I thank you all for reading, even if I disagree with your morals or how you spell. It's nice to get attention, good or bad.
Which brings me to something else. emogirl9, or Kristen, as her profile states, claims to not care what I think. However!![!], she replied to me in such a manner that leads me to believe she, in fact, does![!!] Why do I say this? Because her reply was very cruel. I sent her a message criticizing her grammar and spelling and character, [which in itself was a reply to another message, I posted it on here.] and she returned to me saying that I was "not the only person in the world" and that she "knows how it feels to be put down constantly." First of all, constantly put down. Please have the courtesy to use good grammar when you're making fun of me. Second of all, I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE? PLEASE EXCUSE ME WHILE I ROTFLOL. Hi. I'm Andi. I lived through seventh grade Hell. Hi. I'm Andi. My own family puts me down for having colorful hair and an originality complex. Hi. I'm Andi. If it weren't for one of my best friends, my other best friend would be in prison, and I would be dead. Hi. I'm Andi. My mother is a demon from the depths of the underworld. [disclaimer: this is not a lie, my mother truly tried to ruin my life and continually proves herself unfit to be a mother.]
Kristen's lovely lovelies also go on to tell me this: "there are plenty of others who can see past all that is skin deep with me. and see the real me. im sure if you take your time and actually get to know me through these messages. you'll see that the person on my blog... isnt the real me." Oh, Bravo, then. I'm sorry I ever judged you from the things you've written and how you've presented yourself, those so obviously aren't the real you. That's like having somebody stand INSIDE of your brain and take a poke around and then tell them "oh, all those personal things you saw? yeah those aren't mine. i'm holding them for a friend." Kristen adds: "you can call me a poser all you want. i dont care. but the truth is... im sorry. i didnt mean to offend you or your friend. i hope you can forgive and put this all behind and start over knew." First of all, NEW. There is one letter difference. It is not like you're spelling something impossible, like Megalomaniacal. In that case, I can excuse it if you were to spell Megalomeniacal. Because it's a big word, there's a lot of opportunities to fuck up. Second of all, I never said this girl was a poser. I implied that she is hypocritical in how she calls herself emo and an atheist, and then adds that she's trying out for American Idol. Do any of you remember the idiot who screamed to Silverstein on that travesty of a television program? American Idol is specifically engineered to turn out those boy-and-girl band bubbly personalities. It's pop. It's pop in the greatest sense. And any self-respecting emo kid would stay the fuck away from there, even if they did truly watch it. So I applaud Kristen for being an "emo" who admits to loving the American Idle sensation. Third of all, I don't believe for one moment that she didn't mean to offend Pierre, because of how harsh and brutal her insults to him were. Perhaps if she had been saying he was a big dumb doodyhead. Perhaps if she'd just said Fuck Him. Because then, it could be marked off as senseless rage. But here, we're talking about the difference between nicking the skin and gouging it. And Kristen, babe, you gouged it.
I'm not going to forgive her, it's not worth the time. But I'm also never going to speak of her again, because this little shit has given up her argument. I would have been willing to keep that fire burning eternally. But I guess that Kristen doesn't want to go to the Hell she doesn't believe in, doesn't want the God of Atheism to hate her forever.
Thank you, and goodnight.
Dear iPod:
i think these questions will better expose my mood than my dumb fingers ever will.
dear iPod, why you no smile?
burn.
[interpretation: pepito feels like he's always been left in the ashes.]
dear iPod, why i no smile?
golden (live).
[interpretation: pepito thinks that i feel betrayed by the youth, that all of the mothers would rather not have me, that i'm destined to be scorned by the golden rule.]
dear iPod, why do i hurt?
dream on.
[interpretation: pepito thinks that all my dreams, dreams until the dreams come true, are causing me so much mental and physical pain, that i should concentrate on the present instead of the future and past.]
dear iPod, why do i feel so alone?
invincible.
[interpretation: pepito thinks that i've caused myself, over years of going to school sick and hurting all over with no remedy, to be invincible and to shut off everyone else. i think he's wrong, and i think it's everyone else who's invincible, and they just can't see me crying.]
dear iPod, what is my future?
wake me up when september ends.
[interpretation: pepito thinks either that i'll join the army, or follow the fates laid before me by my fathers.]
dear iPod, who loves you?
xo.
[interpretation: nobody.]
dear iPod, who loves me?
a modern myth.
[interpretation: nobody real.]
dear iPod, should i kill myself?
light my fire.
[interpretation: pepito thinks that my love can get no higher. thus, i'm interpreting this to say yes, i should kill myself, for there is nothing better to look forward to. come on, somebody. anybody. light my fire.]
dear iPod, how will i die?
extraordinary girl.
[interpretation: i will leave home and die out in the memories of everyone i know.]
dear iPod, what is wrong with me?
calm before the storm.
[interpretation: a storm is about to brew in my life, and this calm i feel is not good.]
dear iPod, why am i alone?
now i'm here.
[interpretation: pepito thinks i should take comfort in him because i feel so abandoned.]
dear iPod, should i kill myself? [this is deliberate, i want a second opinion.]
supermassive black hole.
[interpretation: what?]
dear iPod, should i kill myself?
bruised.
[interpretation: i feel so bruised. watching everyone else be happy, get married, leave me behind. so let's go with a yes on this one.]
dear iPod, would anybody care if i killed myself?
saturday.
[interpretation: if i were to kill myself next saturday, patrick stump and pete wentz would attack the lost astoria in the wake of it all. good thing?]
[this is like some stupid other thing, where it's like DA SOWNDTRAK 2 UR LYFE!]
Opening Credits:
Was it a Dream? - 30 Seconds to Mars
Waking Up:
If I Ever Leave This World Alive - Flogging Molly
First Day At School:
Adultery - Dog Fashion Disco
Falling In Love:
Welcome to My Life - Simple Plan
Fight Song:
Guilty Conscience - Eminem and Dr. Dre
Breaking Up:
Life in Tenement Square - Flogging Molly
Prom:
Now I'm Here - Queen
Life's OK:
Portrait Unpainted - The Proposal
Mental Breakdown:
Who's Sandie Jenkins - Chiodos
Driving:
Wine Red (Tommie Sunshine's Brooklyn Fire Retouch) - The Hush Sound
Flashback-
Nobody's Listening - Linkin Park
Getting Back Together:
Five to One - the Doors
Birth of Child:
Jerkin' Back and Forth - Devo
Wedding:
Body Language - Queen [because everything has to be sexual]
Final Battle:
Every Dog Has Its Day - Flogging Molly
Death Scene:
Lazy Gun - JET
Funeral Song:
Play the Game - Queen
End Credits:
Mai Ai Hee - Miranda Warning
Burn
alright, you want to know my opinion? my opinion is that you are a very insecure and very hypocritical teenage drama queen. here you claim that you're "emo" and you hate people who judge, but the very next thing I see, you're saying "fuck all you who criticize!" and then you're saying you want to try out for American Idol, the capital of all that is conformism! not knowing is ignorance, you say. oh, really? newsflash, you spelled Emotionally wrong in your blog's title. also: "storys" is incorrect, it's actually "stories." so really, you're the ignorant one.
i know you're trying to be creative, you're trying to be some kind of new-wave atheist, you're trying to be your own person. but you talk to me like you think i'm going to become friends with you, and i just cannot do that. do you know why?
because pierre [aka xbrokenxheartedxboyx] is one of my closest friends. i would never do anything to hurt him, but you have made fun of him and called him names, all because he wasn't willing to pander to your whorish requests. you called him a stupid fucker, and that's like calling me a stupid fucker. you called him a retarted pussy, and that is not. cool. you say that he only gets happiness from making others feel bad. well guess what, kristen, that's exactly what you're doing when you laugh at him for having feelings, for knowing the kind of people he doesn't want to associate with.
so i'm "soooooo sorry" if you think less of me. i really couldn't care, because obviously you didn't care enough to see that my number one concern on this site is the same boy you despise. i'm guessing you saw me update once, looked through my profile, and saw that a cute boy was calling himself emo and writing exactly what you wanted from a boy. i'm whatever you want me to be, as long as you only see skin-deep.
thank you and goodnight.
------------------------------
Original message from emogirl9:
if u are whatever i want you to be... be the one who always tells me your opinion without fear of me getting mad (bc no one here can do that) be the one who speaks his mind and just doesnt care of the consequences (they cant do that either) and be no more and no less of who you really are ( bc the world is full of fakers) that is what i want you to be.
if u want... live up to it. if not.... then dont.
------------------------------
Original message from XxEveryxLastxWordxX:
i'm whatever you want me to be.
------------------------------
Original message from emogirl9:
ok. question. are you male or female? just wonderin. didnt know. but whatever. just wanted an answer. so wats up:
I DID A LIST THING D:
because i have no life.Best, Worst, Last, Today, Tomorrow, Favorite, Currently, and True or False.
Best
1. Male friend: Jason Kingston
2. Female friend: Dobbl Dee, who's like my sister, and Kara, who's like my cousin because we don't fight like, ever. I can't remember a time when we did fight besides vacations.
3. Vacation: Hawaii, which oddly enough was with Kara.
Worst
1. Time of day: two in the morning, when nothing's on tv and I can't get to sleep.
2. Day of the Week: Toos-day
3. Food: pork chops, i hate them.
4. Memory: Probably all of kindergarten through seventh grade.
Last
1. Person you saw: My mom
2. Talked to on the phone: Dobbl Dee Dobbl Die!
3. Text: Dillon Martindale. ehh?
4. Message over MySpace: er... Neon Trees, I guess.
Today
1. What are your plans: read all of Dooce's archives, write music for that necrophilia song.
2. What are you wearing: my Red fish Blue fish shirt and jeans.
3. Better than yesterday?: pff. doubt it.
Tomorrow
1. Is: Wednesday
2. Got any plans? hanging out with Dillon, finding out if Dobbl DEE has Cannabitis.
3. Dislikes about tomorrow: it's going to be really stressful and awkward, no matter what plans i do or don't do.
Favorite
1. Number: 19
2. Song: Golden by Fall Out Boy, Bang the Doldrums by da Foab unit, or Spanish Caravan by da Durz.
3. Color: Lime green and yellow, sometimes arr-unge.
4. Season: Fallsies!
Currently
1. Missing someone: I miss Ja-suck.
2. Mood: Tired, a little bit depressed.
3. Wanting to get a tattoo or piercing?: I wish I could have gotten snakebites instead of just the labret, and also I want to get "Nos Illa Tactus Son Phantasme" tattooed over my shoulders.
I am a cuddler: Not if it's too damn hot in the house and I keep falling asleep on their chest.
I am a morning person: LIES.
I am a perfectionist: With writing/school related things.
I am an only child: yeaaa boiiii.
I am currently suffering from a broken heart: grrrnot really.
I am very shy around the opposite gender: more awkward than shy, but only if i like them like them.
i have problems few people know about: um sure.
I can be paranoid at times: why are you asking. who told you.
i have animals: in my pants.
I enjoy country music: hella nope.
This Is An Entry Where I Complain About That Same Stupid Cunt
attention: "keith chicago" is a girl. perhaps you've heard of her other aliases, emily fuller, frankie, fry, the list goes on. guess what, you stupid douchebags? she's the same fucking ADHD bitch she ever was. she's just as fucked up as ever and she's fucking dying to get your attention.now i'm going to be petty and actually quote "keith's" myspace.
"i'm not like the rest of you. i don't buy into this shit.
i guess if i had one point to get across, i'd tell everyone to stop doing this popular culture collective mind drone thing and just be themselves. is it so hard to 'fit in' without totally changing your image?"
HAH. YEAH, GOOD QUESTION, EMILY, IS IT? POP CULTURE COLLECTIVE MIND DRONE? HM, I WONDER, WHO'S THE ONE WHO ONLY LIKES A CERTAIN ANDI JUST BECAUSE THAT ANDI DRESSED "PUNK"? WHO'S THE ONE WHO WENT COMPLETELY ALONG WITH THAT TREND ALL THE GIRLY BOYS AND BOYISH GIRLS WERE ATTACKING LIKE FLIES, AND THEN MOANS AND BITCHES ABOUT IT WHEN NOBODY BELIEVES YOU'RE A BOY? here's some fucking advice. either wear the dress or wear the boy thing down to a science, you ass. maybe you could try gaining some goddamn muscle mass instead of just wandering around in your girly little shirts and your heels saying "hi i'm a boy. i'm gay. poutpoutpout."
"I am an artist. It's pretty fuckin hard to find a boy who knows what he's doing with a tablet pen and pallet these days. I'll do requests, but you must appease me." you're an artist the same way ron jeremy is an actor. you fuck the scene.
"i'm not a girl.
no matter what you say or what you think,
i am a boy. i am male." ah, yes, of course dear.
now, I know that I'm just being the pot, calling the kettle black and all here, but really. Frankie. you're taking this trend too far. because that's what it is to you, a trend. Look. if you were really this transgender asexual punk you say you are, you would just be happy to be /in/ the pants. you wouldn't be constantly complaining that nobody thinks you're a boy. look at drag queens for christ's sake. who has ever looked at a drag queen and thought HEY THARZ A PURTY LADI ID LIEK TA FUWK. nobody. but drag queens still do it, and love it, because they have fun. so start having some goddamn fun, we're all sick of hearing you bitch and moan and then call us idiots and mindless zombies just because when we shop at hot topic, we aren't bashing every single thread in that store.
would you believe, my dear readers, that one of my dreams is to be on stage, but dressed as a boy? with my tits wrapped up, my hair slicked down, holding a microphone to my lips. i'd bend down so i was kneeling to the crowd and i'd look out, and see their faces and their hands, and they would be screaming Andi Andi Andi. the girls would love me. the boys would want to be me. and i wouldn't have to say i was in it to gain respect, to fight for women's rights, to break barriers. i could be in it for the fun. for the lights and the camera, and the guitar hanging at my neck, pick in my fingers, blinding devotion in my eyes. and my writing would be read, and people would understand. they would listen to it and feel better. they would feel the same way i had when i heard those chiming words from the mouths of all my friends, and i would know that i was proving them wrong, my mother, my family. those who told me i could do nothing without going to college like they'd said, or starting my career in art because i wasn't a musician. i would be something magical.
and that is why i can't stand keith chicago. because all she wants to do is shock people.
and i just want to be free from the glass ceiling and all the terms/conditions it comes with.
faithfully,
andi palmer
HOLY SHIT.
Okay. So. You know Dillon? That I was telling you about earlier? The one who I still sort of kind of hold a candle for? The one who I wasn't sure if he was serious or not about hanging out? He just texted me. And asked me to hang out on Monday.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH OH MY GOD.
i'll update you all later, right now i'm busy swallowing my soul.
It's What You Buy, Not What they Sell!
So I just have to post a blog about the new Harry Potter book, how could I not? I mean, look at me, I'm a sweaty nerd with grease spots all over my forehead and under my glasses. It was kind of disappointing to me. Just because in the ending and in certain love scenes it was VERY quizilla fanfic.Yeah, nothing's been going on.
I'm thinking of writing a story to give to Jason for his Christmas present, I don't know, though.
We Still Write In Hiroglyphics
Imagine my dismay when I first found out that after several formative years spent obsessing over Egypt and the study of such, I can't remember worth a damn how to spell Hiroglyphics. Is that even correct? Sighs and whines. I hate change. I hate looking at the cover of various magazines with Ashlee Skunkface and thinking momentarily that she's kind of pretty. I hate reading Pete Wentz's commentary on how beautiful and awesome and sweet she is. If I wanted to vomit up my heart, I'd go through old emails.In other news, I've started to feel apathetic about my life and the summer my life is stuck between. I feel like I have no direction. Do you all realize that I'm fourteen years old? Why am I wondering where my life is going? That shouldn't be arriving until about eleven years from now. Damn, damn, damn.
[edit: HIEROGLYPHICS! HIEROGLYPHICS!]
My Ocardial Infarction
I'm currently in the process of putting music to a set of lyrics that is very close to my heart, and I feel bad about it. The music doesn't seem to do justice to the lyrics. It should be Free Bird and I'm giving it Green Day. I just want to make somebody proud.Jared Leto
you sexy devil.you, me, all together, it'll be hot.
i want a soulmate with a stomach like that.
Everything Will Be Just Fine
so, i don't know, i kind of want to start writing on websites again, like i used to on quizilla, but i'm hardly willing to put my stuff on that place again. quizilla is one of the most corrupt things on this planet. it's like unless your story is tagged with BrendonUrie FallOutBoy PeteWentz Emo Romance Slash GerardWay BertMcCracken, you don't get any attention. you're basically writing in your journal again. and not to say i'm a writing genius, because i'm not, but it's like um yeah no thanks i don't think i really want to write a slash romance between a vampiric Gerard Way and his brother, i don't salute incest. nor do i wish to pen a fictionalized version of the suspected romance between Patrick and Pete from Fall Out Boy, or publish the seventh Harry Potter with a new melodramatic touch, and myself as the "shy new girl with an edge and abusive parents."
i really just want the attention, that's my main reason to keep living. attention.
so if anybody knows some free writing collective where people actually read other people's stories and all that jazz, i'd smile upon your wisdom.
Goodbye Baby
I hate the gossip magazines. I hate Mexico. [Not the Mexicans, just Mexico] I hate the Simpson family and I hate double entendres.Syndrome System
"Cyclothymia is a mood disorder. This disorder is a milder form of bipolar II disorder consisting of recurrent mood disturbances between hypomania and dysthymic mood. A single episode of hypomania is sufficient to diagnose cyclothymic disorder; however, most individuals also have dysthymic periods. The diagnosis of cyclothymic disorder is never made when there is a history of mania or major depressive episode or mixed episode (as told in "Blueprints in Psychiatry" - "mood disorders")Diagnostic Criteria
- The lifetime prevalence of cyclothymic disorder is 0.4-1%. The rate appears equal in men or women, though women more often seek treatment.
- Symptoms are present for at least two years: periods of hypomanic symptoms and periods of low mood that do not fulfill the criteria for major depressive disorder.
- The longest period the patient has been free of symptoms is two months.
- During the first two years of the disorder, the patient has not fulfilled the criteria for either bipolar disorder or major depressive disorder.
- The disorder cannot be better explained as schizoaffective disorder, and it is not superimposed on schizophrenia, schizophreniform disorder, delusional disorder or psychotic disorder not otherwise specified.
- Symptoms are not directly caused by a general medical condition or the use of any substances such as prescription medicines.
The symptoms cause the patient clinically significant distress or impair work, social or personal functioning.
A persistent instability of mood, involving numerous periods of mild depression and mild elation. This instability usually develops early in adult life and pursues a chronic course, although at times the mood may be normal and stable for months at a time. The mood swings are usually perceived by the individual as being unrelated to life events. The diagnosis is difficult to establish without a prolonged period of observation or an unusually good account of the individual's past behaviour. Because the mood swings are relatively mild and the periods of mood elevation may be enjoyable, cyclothymia frequently fails to come to medical attention. In some cases this may be because the mood change, although present, is less prominent than cyclical changes in activity, self-confidence, sociability, or appetitive behaviour. If required, age of onset may be specified as early (in late teenage or the twenties) or late.
The essential feature is a persistent instability of mood, involving numerous periods of mild depression and milding elation, none of which has been sufficiently severe or prolonged to fulfill the criteria for bipolar affective disorder or recurrent depressive disorder. This implies that individual episodes of mood swings do not fulfill the criteria for any of the categories described under manic episode or depressive episode."
So um, I'm not sure if it's just me being a mild hypochondriac when it comes to brain disorders, but seriously, i think that's accurate. My mood swings aren't like typical teen shit. It's not "oh hello i'm happy most of the day and then i'm sad, aw, now i'm back!" Mine are like, "oh my god, i'm depressed i'm depressed i hate my life oh what's this now i'm happy hahaha happy happy happy oh my god oh my god i want to die i hate my life oh my god somebody kill me."
Whatever, I'm just being dramatic.
I'm still gonna ask my theRapist about this.
Oh and by the way, Lithium is some scary shit. It's a "mood stabilizer." Does that mean it'll just put me in the mellow all day? This is Andi. He can't hear you, he can't hear anybody nowadays. He just sits there. Does nothing. He's too mellow.
If i'm put on meds, I want them to be the kind that I can take when I need it and that's all. Like "damn, I don't like feeling this suicidal. i'll pop a Lithizine. all better!" and then i'll come down from it unscarred and it'll be okay, and when i'm feeling depressed but not suicidal, and then i write something beautiful, and then it's okay. Idk. I don't want to have to ask for prescriptions.
help me, help me, help me
xoxo AndixCore
All This Time Spent Waking Up
Something has kept me here too long, strangled by age and talent limitations. I just want to get the fuck out of here, go to a town with a real music scene, and jump in. Who cares if nobody likes the band? Look at the fucking Casualties, it's not like they do anything. Sid Vicious? Didn't even play bass. I'm sick of having this anti-life. Sick of "writing songs" only to be lost in the pages of my notebooks. There's no reason to anything anymore, I'm getting screwed by my own aspirations. Fuck.
i hate my image, i hate my life, fuck everything, you all suck, i love you, somebody kill me, somebody get me out of salt lake, take me away to chicago, somebody kill me.
said i to fall out boy:
"Do you feel like when you write, you're writing for someone else, for an audience? Like, knowing that what's down on that page is likely to be transmitted across the galaxy in the form of a bassline and a melody, does it make you feel like nothing's sacred?"
I post it on here because it'll never be answered.
OH BTW: 69TH ENTRY!! LOL LOL LOL.
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