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Une fille comme moi
Je t'aime plus que hier, moins que demain ♥
Welcome to the blog of a 17yearoldgirl, where she posts her mindless musings and ramifications.
This is extremely private;
cos this is where she dreams, sleeps and cries.
She lives. 		"We can catch buses and count our change and cross the roads and talk real sentences.
but our innocence goes awfully deep,
and our discreditable secret is that we don’t know anything at all,
and our horrid inner secret is that
we don’t care that we don’t."
je ne sais pas ce que faire
Wednesday, July 22, 2009, 9:17 PM
These few days I've been running not on adrenaline but on stress and hormones. And it's making me so PMSy that it scares even myself. I guess it's because of a lot of factors that I've been bottling up inside me, and then on tuesday, after I got back another D for bio, everything just came crashing down on me. You have no idea how embarrassing it is to cry in front of a teacher in the staff room. How defeated I felt when I had to hide in the toilet to let myself loose. I just don't know what I should do right now...I don't how where I went wrong. I don't know what to do. I want to change things so badly but I can't. I need to find myself, find new motivation and move on...but I don't know how to get started. I'm like one of those old cars that need oiling and startups 10 times before I get roaring.

To make things worse, the haircut I got was horrible. I specifically told the stupid hairdresser to only TRIM my hair and layer it more thinly and yes, I got thinly layered hair but also EXTREMELY SHORT thinly layered hair. I fucking hate that hairdresser. And she nearly screwed my fringe as well, but thank god I can see the front and I stopped her in time. I am never EVER going to cut my hair at the hairdresser's again. I shall only visit salons next time.

And sometimes I wish that I haven't invested so much of my time and emotions into people...because in the end, everyone has the ability to hurt you...you just have to figure out who's worth the pain. And I really don't know whether you're worth the pain anymore. I wrote a "You" poem below.

"is it possible, finally, for one human being to achieve perfect understanding of another? we can invest enormous time and energy in serious efforts to know another person, but in the end, how close are we able to come to that person’s essence? we convince ourselves that we know the other person well, but do we really know anything important about anyone?”
— haruki murakami, the wind-up bird chronicle

You.
You are the phone calls at midnight.
You are my fairytale storybook.
You are my agony aunt.
You are the reflection in the puddles of water.
You are the shadow in my mind.
You are grass in the fields.
You are the laughter in the wind.
You are my secret.
You are my smile wrinkles.
You are not mine at all.