I'm

Angry all the time.

I hate being touched, being looked at, being spoken to in any way that isn't a joke.

It scares me. When people touch me I'm burning, scorched by the thought of human contact directed at me, the outcast. Spoken to, I Love You, burns, my cheeks are red.

What do you do when the person in your life right now, you're confused between hate and love. You look back and say "that guy is a real douche," because everything he feels and says and thinks is against everything you believe in and love and it hurts when that bond of unspoken similarity is broken between you, but when you look into those eyes, those pools of hot and cold passion, emotion, you think only of lust and love.

I get angry too much. Everything now, makes me hot with rage, makes me want to lash out and hurt someone close to me. But that would make me look silly.

This is irrelevant.

I just need to rant a little bit about my life.

Right now these things are stopping that smile reaching my face;

-My mother; "get a job," "I'm not giving you anything until you get a job," "revise more, you're failing everything."

-The fact that I am indeed, failing everything. Nothing's working at school- my teachers are on my case, I need to do more work that I don't understand and can't do.

-My boyfriend.. I don't know. I fail at relationships, I don't know how to handle myself. I want to scream at myself for being such a fat bitch and can't understand why anyone would ever have sex with me.

-Something tiny happens and I feel the need to scream, cry and throw things. Tiny things, like nail varnish going wrong.. it makes me want to smash the bottle beneath my feet and cry.

-I officially want to hurt someone all the time.

-I feel like I'm going insane.. I can't remember anything.. someone will tell me something and I won't be able to remember the conversation 3 minutes later.

Am I going crazy? Is it stress? What can I do to stop it?

sigh; ciao.

I get a thousand hugs..

Did you ever get that feeling, where you see a pretty face and suddenly feel like the most hideous creature on earth? Like you're worth nothing, and can't stand to see your face in the mirror for days on end?

When someone says 'I Love You' you're meant to feel on top of the world, your nerves tingling, electricity flying through your body, filling every inch of you with happiness, joy, making you feel amazing and perfect with yourself.

Mix the two feelings together and you've got some hefty stuff there. When he whispers I Love You, amazement, joy, happiness, they flood through me. The sensation tingles and buzzes and sings through my pores, painting my face the happy couple picture. Then dread crashing down onto me, my face burns. My legs turn to jelly and I freeze, my mind scrambles and I feel like I should curl up and die because as soon as that metaphorical mirror shines, I'm theoretically screwed. Those words whirlwind every hateful thing I've said or felt against myself thundering back down inside me, rushing through my head, bursting my ears. I hate myself.

So what do you say? I say I Love You, not like in the movies, not like the average couple, the I-wish-I-had-that couple, not like the kissing in the rain scenes everybody seems to love, but the rushed, embaressing, gut-wrenchingly cringy way a child would admit to stealing a lolly.

It's 'ilayu' or 'mmhmm you too', or maybe even 'ditto' for us self-concious morons out there today.

So how do you overcome it? Lose weight? Wear more makeup? Truely, there is no way to make a girl feel amazing about herself, if there is nothing to work with. No, 'hey, I look better than that girl in her display picture' feeling, no looking in store changing rooms thinking 'I actually look okay in this.' No, it's holy mother, let me pay for this as fast as possible, hiding my face in case the till lady sees my godawful face and laughs, and just run home, shove it on, apply full amount of makeup and glance in the mirror before running out again, just in case someone laughs.

It's a matter of laughing. If I laugh, no one can laugh at me. If I mock myself, others mocking me will be a metaphorical fly on the windscreen. Nothing can hurt me if I've hurt myself enough already that other's comments are nothing. There's honestly nothing anyone can say to me that I haven't already told myself, and close friends will tell you that's true.

This is how I overcome my fear of 'I Love You.' I laugh it off. Pretend I misheard. Anything to avoid that soul-wrenching feeling. But what about when you can't escape? We've all experienced 'Pillow-Talk', but what when it comes down to those three words, laying in bed with your lover in your arms, eyes searching for emotions that exist, they're just far too pushed down to notice?

Does this make me a bad person, or do I just need to wake up to the fact that not everyone thinks I am the reflection in my mirror?

ciao

We do it

because it amuses us.
This is our generation's excuse. We messed up. We know. Our parents have destroyed the planet, and we destroyed society. Adolesence get the blame for everything, don't we?
'Oh, don't go over there, there's a gang of youths wearing hoodies and smoking! Well I'll tell you a fact. I am young, i posses a hooded top, and i smoke ciggarettes. I do not, however, carry a 'shank', or call people 'bruv'. I amuse myself by taking the piss out of people that do, so by stereotyping me as one of those is not only insulting, but amusing. I hate that most of our parents were around with the hippie movement, where they would rebel against everything their parents stood for, they would rebel against fashion and create their own style, pierce themselves and smoke weed until their eyes glazed over, but if i say i want a glass of vodka and coke, suddenly i'm a 'typical adolescent,' and I would want alchohal, because 'every youth is drinking nowadays' well no, I'm just trying to fit in. A party yes, contains boys, sex, drugs, alchohal, but it doesn't mean i'm going to do all of them at once, does it? According to my parents, yes. Yes i would. My paren'ts think having ones ears pierced or God forbid their navel pierced is dirty, horrible, and tattoos are unholy. They seem to think that wanting to go to a party means that suddenly i want to have unkept scruffy hair, piercings covering my face, sex with 50 year old men and to smoke weed until i die. No! I want to dance, meet a boy, have a drink, and have a laugh.
I hate how our generation has become the murderous, stereotyped, hated generation yet. The hippie movement is now reminisced at lovely, a fun time, a time for all to smile about. But it was a time that sex, drugs and rock and roll was invented. Our parents rave about inventing these, but when their children, us, put it into practice, suddenly it's unholy and stupid and wrong. And we are chastisised. So what, we're not allowed to rebel or have true emotion because you've already done it?
Also, are we not allowed to fall in love? The other week, (bringing some personals into this) I brought a new boyfriend home. Suddenly i was 'crazy in love' and i was 'bound to hurt him, or get hurt' and 'everything will go wrong soon!' Well of course, but i'm having fun. I'm not in love, because apparently 'youths don't know what love is' .. love has no age, in my opinion. To be in love is different, but I am allowed to say 'i love you' without meaning, 'i am in love with you.'
My ending point is this, parents seem to think they know it all, and when we think we are intelligent, we are wrong, apparently. My parents tell me I am not streetwise, and that i should not be allowed out after dark, because they are smarter than me and know what's best for me. They do not know how to get a bus to orpington.
I rest my case.

p.s there are loads of typos, i'm tired.

This

wont be half as interesting or though-out as my last blog, but i like to keep things simple sometimes.
Finally meeting someone you've been waiting for can be interesting, scary, exciting. You get the nervous butterflies of meeting them, worrying about how your hair looks or if you look fat today. But as soon as you meet them, have the first, minor reassurance of a simple lip-lock, a momental touch of skin in a sensitive place that releases those ever-needed endorphines into our system to make us smile instantaniously, and a memory that can last a lifetime. I have all these right now, and for once I'm not worrying about why, or how long it will last, or how much they like me.

For once, finally, I'm happy.