hello, hello.

exams start tomorrow.
life is just as messy, but less so.

registered for the UKCAT, finally. everything's smooth for now. maths to try and bump up. then biology. fingers crossed, ah I wish I wish.
this UKCAT is important for king's but I'm considering applying to maybe somewhere else.
depends, depends.
I have to do well in finals.
have to get a minimum of 39.
I must.

one month.

I didn't know if I could make it to a month, but I have, and you have.
congratulations us.
I didn't tell you even though I know you wouldn't remember, because I know it doesn't matter to you.
it matters to me because I like knowing how much I've tried to do in how long.
the first week was rocky, I wasn't used to you.
I am now.
you can't hurt me like the way you did.
one month is one month,
we have about twelve more to go.

are you willing to do this?

because I don't know if I am.

this is all a big rushing mess in my head.

I have BMAT papers to put in, I have the UKCAT to sit for, I have everything inside my course and outside applications and exams and headaches.
mr. skelt hasn't put in my reference, I didn't give mrs. beer the material for mine, lost my ucas password, found my ucas password, need to complete a cambridge overseas form.

why must life be so difficult?
excuse me as I go shoot myself.

mother is here, and is helping/hindering as best as she can.
I love her;
but sometimes, really, its hard for me too.
this is why I can't go back.

I shouldn't be here, I should be completing the rest of my chemistry syllabus, and my spanish after that, and my english after that, and my biology, and maths, and history.

life is so full of shoulds and woulds that sometimes, people don't consider the whys.

in two hours and ten minutes, my soul will be sold.

its really amazing how pathetic I am.
pathetic.
pathetic.

I don't like the way you think you have any say in how I live my life.
because quite frankly, you don't.
a passing fancy might define me, but I know your large eyes and nervous tics, and I see what you think but I don't have to because in the end you say it all.
I don't want your thoughts.
they do nothing for me.

I do the worst things behind sheltered hands and dim lights;
I commit the worst crimes with a little lie and a solemn smile,
I make the worst wounds with blunt nails and hardened frowns.
you cannot presume to do to me what I have done to you.

I am pathetic.
pathetic.

its amazing the things you don't do that can rip my best friend and I apart.
I know its me but I want it to be you.
because blaming it on myself doesn't hurt as much as when I blame it on you.

I used to believe you were everything I hated.
its amazing how much you learn about yourself,
from what you're willing to compromise.

I will not hurt her again.

go away, go away, I don't want you, I never wanted you, I never asked for this.
you make me feel pathetic.
thanks.
thanks.

pathetic.

I don't like the way I'm fading.
I don't like the way I'm.
I don't like the way.
I don't like the.
I don't like.
I don't.
I.

god, I don't think I ask for much;
but I want James McAvoy.
please make it happen.

thanks in advance.

moved into own apartment with Pam.
finally, we're out of there.
I was about to suffocate. but its alright. they're always extremely nice to me. its just certain things that grate you know. oh well.
I bought fags; for the first time.
it was a little unsettling.
this is going to take some getting used to.

friday 25th september
beginning of my trials.
god forgive, I need to do this.
I need to do this well.

no-one fully understands my need to leave, outside my best friends of course.
come on, how can none of you not feel the urge to uproot, leave, and go go go?
I don't want to stay here.
not melbourne, not perth.
I don't want to stay.

they argue, but you've had good memories here, you fit in, how can you want to leave, you're comfortable, we accept you, we're your friends.
yes yes yes to it all, I know, don't you think I know?
but thats not the point.
I've loved it here, melbourne, everything about it.
then why leave, they ask, they look at me a little puzzled.

I am young.
its been two years here, two fantastic years, unforgettable.
two years like those I used to pray for.
but I want to go, I want to live while I can.
england if I can make it, oh, the pleasure.
but if not england, then somewhere else, another city, sydney, adelaide, brisbane, just not here.

I want to go.
staying is,
its;
its not what I want.
six years in england, then post-grad in america, oh oh oh heaven.
I want new.
different.
away.
far far far away.

its not a bad thing.
if I don't make it, I have no choice, and it will be only my fault.
but if I could.
oh, you couldn't catch me, I'm off off off.

something about trios makes me want to believe in faeries.

thank you for doing little things for me. I never appreciated them like this before, before when I was a little angry, blinded, bitter. I do want you. I want you very much. thanks for thinking of me, thanks for caring. thank you for your love. I hope thats what it is.

I have even more motivation now to get into england.


this had better work.
we had better work out.
I had better work.

damn work.

two weeks.

where are you?
I know exactly where you are, and that is what bothers me.

again I lose my head.
rolling rolling
making making
love love.

Once she quoted destruction to my face,
I laughed and lost my saving grace,
And then I learnt the first mistake,
The good ones are never yours to take.

Once he smiled and looked me in the eye,
I shrugged and made no move to lie,
And then I gauged my second error,
In place of love there lies terror.

Once they turned to guide me with hands,
I strayed and refused to make amends,
And then I made my third blunder,
One loose thread, all rips asunder.

Once it all was torn down before me,
I stayed to mock needed charity,
And then I found my fourth fault,
Feel it deep or not at all.

Once I was challenged with these four wrongs,
I told them what I had known all along,
The final lesson I had yet to conceive,
For your flaws, you should never grieve.


ETA: today at the chinese restaurant for dinner, while we were waiting outside for a cab, a random woman came out for a fag.
in the five minutes that we were there, I found out that this woman:
1. had only been married to her husband for 6 months before he died
2. 12 days after his death, she found out she was pregnant

sometimes I meet people, and I don't know what to do.

so hello, legality.


why yes, I am an ardent Dali lover.
I'm not much into surrealism, but some aspects of it are very aesthetically pleasing.
for example, the lobster telephone, the Persistence of Memory, Galatea of the Spheres and a sketch whose name I have been looking for but can't seem to figure out.
there's just something about these works that root me to the spot, and I stare and I stare and I stare, and I just can't stop.

well, before anyone gets me into an in-depth discussion on Dali's hyper-realistic techniques and juxtaposition, I wanted to just say thank you.

thank you to my parents and brother for sending me those amazing cards. they were beautiful.
thank you to my best friends for the surprise cake and sitting around with me until one in the morning. you made the start to my eighteenth birthday the best ever.
thank you to my other friends who remembered, and came up to me and hugged me. it means a lot.
thank you to everyone who texted me or posted it on facebook. I know a few people would not have remembered but for facebook, but thanks for taking those couple of seconds to make me smile a little.
thanks to Shawn and Brandon for remembering, you guys are amazing.
thanks to him, although he might not have remembered, thanks for caring a little.

I am happy.
I am eighteen.

I find the strangest satisfaction in places better left alone.
oh, I'm sorry for doing that to you, but believe me, you made it necessary.
I will tell you when I think it'll be good.
I think I'll tell you today.
because no matter what, you are one of my best friends, and I will always love you.
you just make it so hard for the both of us sometimes.

today, I changed my facebook language from spanish to pirate, and I find spanish to be the easier read.
I could make my life easier and just switch to proper english, but where's the fun in that?

Dali exhibition tomorrow. I'm thrilled at the prospect. I mean, really, its Dali. Oh, and its also my birthday tomorrow.
Staying up until 12 tonight for the kicks.
Also because I just always wait up until 12 the night before my birthday.

so Pamela and I came up with a ninja brainwave;
and we're so ninja and stealthy that you won't know what it is.
keep waiting for it though,
when we finally get it done, my blog readers will be the first to know.
making it is going to be a blast.
can't wait.

because its you I lower my expectations and needs;
I won't be upset if you don't remember what tomorrow is.
I really won't.
(if I repeat this three times and draw a pentacle maybe it'll work)

I think I like what we have.
yes, I think I like it.

discuss the importance of war in the rise to power of

I'd like to write you on the back of postcards that I find at the bottom of rabbit holes.
I'd like to tell you that I think your smile should be at the bottom of a rabbit hole.

I'm tired, but when am I not tired these days.
sleep dust is such a constant these days that I can't remember what it was like to be fully awake (this has nothing to do with being fully alive, I never knew what that was).
then I think that its my fault I go to bed so late, my fault that I choose to wake up so early;
but it is really my fault that her name falls off the cliffs in my speech while I hope to god she dies.

and in school and in class I clap my hands together because it makes a sound that reminds me of all those times I lost him in crowded places.
I lost him, and I didn't care.
because what are sounds but things I never wanted to hear even when alone.

I keep this vacuum close to me and I like emptiness when its so full of everything I hate and like you.
would you understand this if I served it cold?
would you?

everytime my phone beeps its your girlfriend again, telling me things you should be saying.
I love you, you are loved, I want you, you are wanted, I need you here with me.
I don't have the heart to tell her I hate her, because its with you again.
I like blaming you for everything I do wrong, for my generalisations, my mistakes and my triumphs.

I don't know why I still call her your girlfriend.
war was the only thing that benefited me.
and the importance thereof.

language class is language class but they don't teach you important things like how to tell people what they want to hear.
do you tell me what I want to hear?
what do I hear?

happy father's day.


so was yesterday a blast or what.
god.
okay, so birthday dinner was yesterday night and everything was really good, because we were all together having dinner for the first time in a long while.
yes for sentimentality; I'm allowed it because its my birthday week.

so the prep was the usual hit-and-run, because we were running really late and in the end GG, Kiz and I grabbed a cab to make the reservation time. Jen was out in the city already, Miki, Pam and Serena trained an hour late to get there.
but whatever about that.

GG allowed Pam to curl her hair and it was a blast.
damn that girl is pretty.
I hung around for 40 minutes waiting for Pam to do G's hair so she could fix my botched eye make-up. think shiny bronze eyeliner sloppily done on the right eye and randomly dotted on the left. I need new contacts.
dress was amazing, thanks again. god bless strapless bras and body tape.
and my aldo heels. oh yes. everyone needs aldo heels.
it was all good, but now I need a black trench.

then we got there, and I called my mother to get conf. conversation was such:

"Mom I need confirmation,"
"Okay,"
"Hey mom;"
"Yeah, what?"
"Can I have a drink?"
"One drink."
"Okay thanks,"
"Just one drink."
"Don't you trust me?"
"Eh. Yah. Okay. One"

its good to know my mother trusts me a little bit. its probably slightly misplaced, but I'm not going to be the one to tell her that.

had a margarita. good food. good conversation. good times.
I was afraid that Kiz wasn't having much fun though. sorry if you didn't fully enjoy yourself.
and Roz should have been there too. s'okay Roz. we're going on one of these weekdays for kim chi to celebrate hmm hmm hmm. good.

anyway, after dinner with the annoying melissa and her annoying face, we went to starbucks.
oh starbucks, the greatest place on the planet.
I tell the waitress, my name is Priya, P-R-I-Y-A.
I SPELT IT OUT FOR HER.
and guess how it turns out.
yes, really. and that sarha thing? that was supposed to be sarah. god bless.

haaaaaaaaaaah.

it was a great dinner.

this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.

this sucks.

this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.
this hurts.

being with you is like
tying a sinking ship to my ankles, then swimming for my life.

finally a friday again.

I managed to clinch reservations at the Mill, thank god, considering that I only managed to get it done yesterday. though we have to be there a couple of minutes earlier to make sure we get our table. but whatever. we're going be at the Mill! thats enough for me.

the sore point is, I still won't be able to order wine, even at my own 18th dinner. sickening. its alright I suppose. its not like I even like wine. but thats not really the issue; this is all a matter of principle, because I should be able to have alcohol at my eighteenth.

the only people who aren't technically 'legal' yet would be Pam and Kiz. at least I won't be last, hah.

I hate seas, and distances.

I won't have the usual girl dilemma of what to wear or any of that because Pam's birthday present is a multi-purpose worry alleviator. call her superwoman, please.

thanks for telling me.

oh, I'm pumped for tomorrow. pumpity pump-abump. thats me. aha. sometimes its funny how I can be sad and happy at the same time. colliding cars in my spinal cord to come up with all these things I get angry about.

I have eight weeks till the gallows and elysium, and everything is a mix of good and bad and things I shouldn't be thinking of in my head. isn't it funny how I always begin coherent then just disintegrate into mindless solecisms that only make sense if you read it left to right in mirrors?

here's the beginning of a letter I want to write:

stop it.

you are no way involved in this, so please back out.
I know that I was someone you usually did tell things to, and were very open with.
but excuse me if I'm not like that with you.

what I do is my business. I know that other people tell you things about it, but you two have been friends longer and closer than I have ever been with you and sometimes that rankles. I appreciate you trying to help, and caring about it;
but please.
this is not something I want to share with anyone else, this is not something I am inclined to discuss with anyone else. if I have problems, I will sort them out. if it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out. I know you're only trying to help, but I am not like everyone else you've probably met.

I am not going to tell you about every little friction and spark that happens.
so please just stop, and spare me.






ETA: I just found out that Marlon Brando ate himself to obesity and eventually death.
Way to go about completely ruining my day.
Thanks a lot.

to answer a question:

yes, I took my cbox off my blog, and you can't comment on it either.

why?
because I don't want you to comment.
simple as that.

you know, there really is nothing more satisfying than drinking cold chocolate milk straight out of the carton.
sometimes I deceive myself enough to think that its only the simple things in life that I want.

today we watched Streetcar Named Desire. I really want to go watch the real thing now, even though it is slightly disturbing that I can mouth the words as they are spoken on stage.
Marlon Brando is god, so the actor today just fell flat for Stanley;
but really, the guy who played Mitch? hello there gorgeous.
the Blanche today was much better than Vivien Leigh. Leigh is too breathless, her sexuality repressed just makes her seem like a little girl.
Stella was whatever.

then we went to Soda Rock and laughed at Roz all the time (because Roz, you really are dense sometimes), then we figured out how to get back by missing three trams and walking all the way down to Scotch, where the lock-down was yesterday.
hah, lockdowns and bomb threats.
all in a days work.

speaking of which;

you think you won.
you always think you win.

I sit there across from you, my heart breaking a little every time you inflict the full force of your sarcastic, demeaning smile upon me.
and you know this because of all the experience you have
I can watch your lips curve around the edges of your words, for so long, and with every syllable you aim for bullseye;
no matter that you do it it, point blank, every time you shoot.
no matter that it pleases you somewhat, with my shrugs for trophies, lining your triumphant expression like I would line your glass with cyanide.

because the worst part is that after every time you manage to so completely shred my trust in you, I forgive you, because I love you blindly, and much more than my foolish overtures can account for.

this time, I cannot say I was prepared, but I can say that you took a long shot that fell too far off.
you think you might have scored once again, leaning back in your seat to enjoy another one of my awkward smiles, thinking to place another laurel upon your brow.

but this time, no, I thwarted you, you can have all the expressions you want from me, take them as they come please, and twist whatever meaning you want from them.
but I keep my silence, and with it my knowledge, and this is what I can truly say to you right now;
I have more than you assume I do.

well then, aside from that, I have made my peace with both the people I mentioned in yesterday's posts.
see, it is possible for even me to be mistaken.
not my opinions though, of course.

everything's perfect on the wrong day again.

of christ.

I know I've been horrible at updating, but bear with me yeah.
lots of things have happened, most of which I obviously do not plan on reliving, but whatever.

its almost a week till I turn 18.
I can't believe I wanted this so much when I was 11. just puts things into perspective, doesn't it? things that meant so much more before just holds nothing for me now.
I mean, its exciting and everything, turning 18, the big legal emancipation thing, but whatever.
it just means that now I'm actually allowed, by the law, to do the things I've always done anyway.

I don't need anyone's permission, so keep it.

now, over the past week, I've come across two major things that friends of mine have posted on their blogs that affected me greatly.

the first thing I will not mention, because my anger has abated and now I only feel sympathy, or pity, for her who could actually believe enough in such lies to pen her support for them with such righteous passion.
I felt a little betrayed by it. she's one of those few people I thought had enough sense to see and realise what was really happening.
obviously, I was misled.
this will not impact our friendship in any way. I should have known, taking into account our differences in background and current situations, that you would feel that way, and I would feel this.
I'm sorry for judging you.
I still think I'm right though.

secondly;
I was so touched by what you wrote about me. its a pity we don't talk about it, and I know what its like to not be able to say things. I'm glad you wrote it for me though, and I'm glad I know how you feel. it completed me a little bit more inside reading about it, and us.
thank you.
I wrote a little thing for you and posted it on Facebook, I don't think you read it, but whatever.
here it is again anyway:

I just read it. And it was my fault as well. I know you would probably pass over this, because its what we do to each other these days. They were real to me, and it was my fault, my fault for believing too much. You were always more grounded. We were children. We aren't anymore, and that changes everything, but thank you.
I do love you.


I need to call the Mill to make reservations for my birthday dinner this Saturday.
Complications, complications.

I hate time zone differences.