I do nothing but think of you.

I got a 1720 on the SAT.

I'm going to cry. I'm so happy.

HEY BOOOOOOOOOOY

I NEED A BOY TO TAKE ME OVAAAAAAAAAAAAA

stop judging me

do you know the difference between love and obsession?

Maybe due to school, I have been increasingly mentally weak. I find myself lapsing one way or another, but at the same time, getting better at other things.

I find myself attracted to all of the wrong people. I don't want to sever relationships, but the heart can overwhelm the brain.

I find that more commonplace than not.

声をきかせて.

During specific weeks of the month, I find myself re-watching similar videos, for the voice comfort. I find myself latching onto Dragon Age companions because sometimes I need to be the hero who offers more to people than a laugh.

I like making people laugh.

But it's not the same. I feel myself growing older. Like, I can feel the heaviness of wrinkles just below my cheeks, laugh lines deepening. My forehead cinching together as my face begins to sag.

With that, I see myself trapped up against a wall.

I don't know why I am being so vague about this, but I figured it would eventually make sense.

I am being asphyxiated. I need to get out soon. Maybe not so soon. I'm not ready to leave home for college yet.

This isn't a cry for help, hugs or affection.

This is a cry for intellectual revolution in which I can be stimulated.

I'm tired of the profanity and the word cute.

I want something to be magnificent as the sun, sparkling like the stars on the sea, but just as comforting as a cup of tea on the sofa with the sunlight pouring on the mahogany wooden floors.

A small apartment, a literal wall of bookshelves and an overlook of the city that owns my soul.

zap zap.

The quiet descent into madness.

This isn't pertaining to the SAT that I take in a couple of hours, or my endless hatred towards the College Board.

More of a general statement because people are so desperate for recognition.

I don't know, maybe it's because I walked around town while the little middle schoolers got their kicks with their friends. I felt ages older than I usually do, taller, manlier, again. I looked in the glass door to Starbucks and saw that the cold had turned my skin to a literal sick yellow.

Perhaps that an overstatement.

I'm sick of having to make social quotas with people or falling out because of my desire to be alone. I do believe I am a loner, but I do believe that I love people. A juxtaposition. Quite frankly, I'm sick of the depressive bullshit that I have to endure throughout the alleged "best years of my life".

No, I am not depressed. Do I have an pessimistic outlook on the world? Yes, as a defensive mechanism in order to ease the cynic heart.

Entirely a cynic, I am.

I have developed into a people watcher, though most notice and are off-put by it. Usually I am agitated because I can hear them chomp, snap and chew through whatever they're funneling through in order to rid their mouth of lack of toothpaste, beer, semen, whatever. I want to know where they went so awry from the innocent days.

How does the innocent five year old, with bright eyes to the world ahead, toy in hand and in velcro shoes, grow to become an overly promiscuous, beer in hand and in stiletto heels? What was the catalyst? Why?

How does that innocent five year old grow to hate him or herself? What happened to innate optimism and the love for bright colours, cheery voices and happy music? When did they decide to shut the blinds and lights, staying cooped up in their room?

In short, I am fed up with others giving up. I am sarcastic when it comes to SAT, claiming failure and deterioration, but I will never give up.

I've been called weak and lazy before. Weak, I am not. I've never considered myself weak, not even in the physical sense.

My spine has never broken, my brain never melted, my posture never shattered.

I stood tall, growing confidence from year to year, brushed the hair out of my face. I rubbed the dirt in the wound and dealt with it privately.

My mental resistance has soared because of my persistence; I intend to keep it that way.

I am a stubborn bitch with too much pride.

I refuse to go down quietly. If you are to kill me, I will make sure my scream is heard forever.

Because mental illness and stress are man made labels; standardization and evaluation are society's bounds.

Strength, courage and an ego will go far in this life. Not your inability to see past a "disease".

I have no idea why I keep writing things like this.

over my dead body.

I also like to mention in my volatile state, I got overwhelmed with how beautiful Kaka is.

He's a beautiful man, Jesus Christ.

american boy.

Maybe I'm like this because I'm on my period, therefore, emotionally volatile and sick.

I miss your assertiveness, your ego, your arrogance.

I miss your warmth, your laugh, your voice.

I miss your tongue, your hands and thrust.

Definitely the menstrual cycle.