Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Stayed home from school today. I woke up feeling like total crap, so I basically trudged downstairs, get myself some tea, drank it, woke my brothers up for school, than went back to sleep.
Overall, it's been a pretty good day off. God knows I needed it. lol

Anyway, I'ma go have myself some beaf stew.
Poetry slam is tomorrow. Hope it's okay. Hope I don't start crying onstage. lol
Alright, bye
ily
~Belinda
Comments (0) | Permalink

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Okay, that thing underneath my post?
Please pay no attention to that. Just don't. It's just a shitty short story I have to write for creative writing that I am nowhere near finishing yet. Unfortunately, it won't copy and paste into my word document, so I'm going to go die now.
If you hear a sound not unlike that of an atomic bomb going off, don't worry. That's just my brain.
Au revoir, lovelies.
~Belinda
Comments (0) | Permalink

Second draft
The first thing I heard when the blood pounding in my head quieted down enough to let me notice anything besides D being as close to me as he was, was the song playing on the radio. Cruelly and coincidentally enough, it was the same song that, when I first heard it a mere seven weeks ago, made me swear I would never let him do this to me again.
“Just talk yourself up and tear yourself down.”
With his hands still entwined in mine, his body still pressed to mine, still smothering me, still holding me up and keeping me down, I would have burst into tears right then and there.
“You‘ve hit your one wall.”
I would have, but then he would have pulled away out of concern and stayed away long enough to ask me what was wrong. When I wouldn’t answer because he already knew perfectly well that it was him, deep down, that was the problem, he would leave left me here, in this cold, harsh, fluorescent lit room all alone.
“Now find a way around.”
Being in this cold, harsh, fluorescent lit room alone would kill me far more slowly and painfully than it is killing me to be in this room with D, as he slowly, tantalizingly takes everything that I am and makes it dependent on him.
“What‘s the problem?”
I used to abhor this kind of thing with every fiber of my being.
“You‘ve got a lot of nerve.”
I used to think I was so much stronger, so much more sensible, so much better than those girls who’s entire existence depended on that one solitary guy, whether he cared at all about her or not.
“So, what did you think I would say?”
Now, though, that I’m only one more encounter with D away from becoming one of those girls, I merely pity them. I only ever feel this pathetic and obsequious every other week. I can’t imagine having to feel like this 24/7.
“No.”
Because the truth of the matter is, D and I are just not meant to last. We never were. No amount of effort or heartache or lust or infatuation would ever make us “meant to be” or “the real thing” or whatever cliché works best, and it’s simply no use forcing something if it’s just not right.
“You can‘t run away.”
The wise thing to do, therefore, would be to severe all connections with each other and simply get on with our lives, no matter how painful and gut-wrenchingly difficult it is to do so.
“You can‘t run away.”
Unfortunately, this option, I’ve just discovered, is far too painful and gut-wrenchingly difficult for either of us to carry out.
“You wouldn‘t.”
So, I guess instead, we’re just going to have to be wrong and be together until it kills us.
“So, what did you think I would say?”
The lust and infatuation keeping us together is more of a drug than a feeling. The more we experience it, the more our brains disintegrate and the more impossibly agonizing it is to quit cold-turkey.
“No, you can’t run away.”
The thing is there’s a part of me that likes it that way.
“You can’t run away.”
I know it’s really selfish of me to think this, but even though I’m so much more considerate and smarter and overall better without him, at moments like these, when everything just comes so easy with us, I’d sooner shoot myself in the face than go back to living in the cruel reality that is life without D.
“You wouldn’t.”
Judging by the fact he’s all over me right now, I’d say he feels about the same. Then again, I never know. Sometimes I think he’ll finally come to his senses one day and realize that there’s nothing special about all these little trysts, and that I’m just a whore for keeping up this little symbiotic charade and he’s just a monster for letting me.
“I never wanted to say this.”
But that would never happen. D believes in himself way too much to even consider the possibility of something like that happening without him noticing. He’s one of those guys who thinks he knows everything about anything girl-related.
“You never wanted to stay.”
Unfortunately for him, he never stopped to consider the possibility that all girls are not the same, and that maybe--just maybe--I might be different from all his other little conquests.
“I put my faith in you.”
Honestly, the only reason we even became involved with each other in the first place was because he lost a bet and had to ask me out, and I lost my mind and said yes. I thought, “What the hell. I’ve got nothing left to lose at this point and I’m not attracted to him in the least, so there’s no way he could take anything from me even if he wanted to.”
“So much faith…”
But then things started happening. He began to give me those looks that said I was special and those embraces that said he never wanted to let go, and before I could even sense it, I did not just feel like a worthless, crumpled up piece of debris on the floor when he looked at me, but a hidden diamond. All I needed was a good light, like D, to shine and my value was beyond any measure.
“And then you…”
Unfortunately, it soon became evident that I was not the only diamond he’d been illuminating. With this discovery plaguing me, I spent what felt like years avoiding him, not wanting him to see that I was mere cubic zirconium—just barely better than a piece of plastic.
“Just….”
Finally, though, he tracked me down and confronted me. He wanted to know where I’d been, why hadn’t I been returning his calls, and why was I looking at him like that?
“Threw it…”
I wanted to be brave. I wanted to tell D I was looking at him like I was because I knew where he had been, who he had been talking to, and who he had been looking at. When I opened my mouth, though, all that came out was the sound of my voice breaking and my tear-ducts exploding. The next thing I knew, I was in his arms, bawling like a newly widowed widow.
“Away.”
Oh, how I hated myself at that instant. I wasn’t supposed to be like this. This was not me. I was supposed to be the poster girl for strong, independent, self-sufficient, sensible women, and all I had to do in that instant to rectify the situation was tell D I knew he’d been cheating on me and that it was over, but I simply could not do it. What’s worse, I couldn’t stop crying, no matter how hard I tried.

Comments (0) | Permalink

Monday, January 18, 2010

Short story 2, First incomplete draft
The first thing I heard when the blood pounding in my head quieted down enough to let me notice anything besides D being as close to me as he was, was the song playing on the radio. Cruelly and coincidentally enough, it was the same song that, when I first heard it a mere seven weeks ago, made me swear I would never let him do this to me again.
“Just talk yourself up and tear yourself down.”
With his hands still entwined in mine, his body still pressed to mine, still smothering me, still holding me up and keeping me down, I would have burst into tears right then and there.
“You‘ve hit your one wall.”
I would have, but then he would have pulled away out of concern and stayed away long enough to ask me what was wrong. When I wouldn’t answer because he already knew perfectly well that it was him, deep down, that was the problem, he would leave left me here, in this cold, harsh, fluorescent lit room all alone.
“Now find a way around.”
Being in this cold, harsh, fluorescent lit room alone would kill me far more slowly and painfully than it is killing me to be in this room with D, as he slowly, tantalizingly takes everything that I am and makes it dependent on him.
“What‘s the problem?”
I used to abhor this kind of thing with every fiber of my being.
“You‘ve got a lot of nerve.”
I used to think I was so much stronger, so much more sensible, so much better than those girls who’s entire existence depended on that one solitary guy, whether he cared at all about her or not.
“So, what did you think I would say?”
Now, though, that I’m only one more encounter with D away from becoming one of those girls, I merely pity them. I only ever feel this pathetic and obsequious every other week. I can’t imagine having to feel like this 24/7.
“No.”
Because the truth of the matter is, D and I are just not meant to last. We never were. No amount of effort or heartache or lust or infatuation would ever make us “meant to be” or “the real thing” or whatever cliché works best, and it’s simply no use forcing something if it’s just not right.
“You can‘t run away.”
The wise thing to do, therefore, would be to severe all connections with each other and simply get on with our lives, no matter how painful and gut-wrenchingly difficult it is to do so.
“You can‘t run away.”
Unfortunately, this option, I’ve just discovered, is far too painful and gut-wrenchingly difficult for either of us to carry out.
“You wouldn‘t.”
So, I guess instead, we’re just going to have to be wrong and be together until it kills us.
“So, what did you think I would say?”
The lust and infatuation keeping us together is more of a drug than a feeling. The more we experience it, the more our brains disintegrate and the more impossibly agonizing it is to quit cold-turkey.
“No, you can’t run away.”
The thing is there’s a part of me that likes it that way.
“You can’t run away.”
I know it’s really selfish of me to think this, but even though I’m so much more considerate and smarter and overall better without him, at moments like these, when everything just comes so easy with us, I’d sooner shoot myself in the face than go back to living in the cruel reality that is life without D.
“You wouldn’t.”
Judging by the fact he’s all over me right now, I’d say he feels about the same. Then again, I never know. Sometimes I think he’ll finally come to his senses one day and realize that there’s nothing special about all these little trysts, and that I’m just a whore for keeping up this little symbiotic charade and he’s just a monster for letting me.
“I never wanted to say this.”
But that would never happen. D believes in himself way too much to even consider the possibility of something like that happening without him noticing. He’s one of those guys who thinks he knows everything about anything girl-related.
“You never wanted to stay.”
Unfortunately for him, he never stopped to consider the possibility that all girls are not the same, and that maybe--just maybe--I might be different from all his other little conquests.
“I put my faith in you.”
Honestly, the only reason we even became involved with each other in the first place was because he lost a bet and had to ask me out, and I lost my mind and said yes.
Comments (0) | Permalink

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Oh... Yo estoy horrible.
This is ridiculous. '-___- I just wanna crawl under the covers of my bed, cry my abyss-black eyes out, and sleep til I feel better, and I don't even know why.
It's so horrible. I hate feeling this way, and there's nothing I can even do about it.

It's like a really bad trip. All I can do is pray for mercy and wait for it to pass. Hell, I can't even cry to relieve some of the pain. The tears just won't come.
*sigh* Back to anime-watching, I guess. ;~;
ily
~Belinda
Comments (0) | Permalink

Friday, January 15, 2010

I
---AM
-----ADDICTED
------TO
--------ORANGE
---------TICTACS!

Srsly. Cannot stop eating these things! They're delicious. And they make my throat feel better, which is good, because my throat's been hurting all week.
My mom just made me play "I Touch Myself" by the Divynals(sp?) O.o Weirdest song ever--and not in a good way! Arrrrrrrrrrgh! sikjhsk '-__-

So, anyway, I am so incredibly glad this week is over. It took freaking forever to get through. Honestly, I'm surprised a whole damn month hasn't gone by. It was just that tedious. Seriously. '-__- Argh. I feel like going shopping, but I don't want to spend my money and I don't feel like walking to RiteAid. Oy.

Probably just going to end up melting my brain with anime. Found this cool site called sky7anime.net where you can watched subbed episodes of a gajillion series' for free. It's really cool.

In other news, my teacher coerced me into doing this Poetry Slam thing at my school. You guys all know what Slam poetry is, right? It's basically really angry poetry protesting something.
A poetry slam is kind of like a rap battle, but there's no DJ, no cuss words, and people don't rip on each other quite as much.
You basically angrily shout a bunch of words that rhyme and have a certain rhythm to them into a microphone for 3 minutes and hope whatever came out of your mouth made sense.
Yeah. Totally not my style, but if they don't have enough participants, they're not going to be able to have it, and that kind of sucks for people who are interested in that kind of thing. So I'm going to participate. '-___-

And that about covers all I've been up to. That and killing myself over homework, which is nothing new.

I feel this post is kind of lacking something though, so here, look at this picture of an okapi:

Yeah, that's cool, isn't it?
Well, I'ma go comment people now. Bye
~Belinda
Comments (0) | Permalink

Thursday, January 14, 2010

DO NOT READ!!!

I suppose I should be grateful that Ms. D’Anglo didn’t send me straight to the principal; or sorry for letting my rage get the best of me; or at the very least, dismayed at the probability of getting suspended.
As I slowly trudge down the hallway towards the guidance counselors’ office, however, all I feel is irritation.
This is nothing new though. I’ve been in a constant state of anger for months now, ever since I found out my ex-boyfriend, Jay, is the Devil. Likewise, his idiotic best friend, the lovely young man I just had the privilege of giving a high-five to the jaw with my fist, is Beelzebub. This probably has something to do with why I, try as I might, cannot seem to find it in myself to feel all that much remorse for punching him.
know it sounds childish, but it was his fault. He could tell—hell, everyone could tell—that I was already homicidally furious and I had explicitly warned him an infinite number of times before to back off, yet he still insisted on provoking me.
Luckily, Ms. D’Anglo, my AP psychology teacher, knew this as well and had been wanting to punch out Dean herself since the beginning of the school year, so instead of getting the standard reproachful gape and stern command to go to the principal, I got a barely concealed thankful smile and a pass to go to my guidance counselor, Mrs. Drery.
Under normal circumstances, I would have been overjoyed at avoiding a maddeningly pedantic lecture and possible suspension, but as I recall Mrs. Drery’s sugar-coated, spurious smile and her torturous squeak of a voice speciously urging me to retake the SAT’s for the millionth time because of those pesky five or four questions I missed last time, I can’t help but feel the prickling of an urge to tear up my pass, march right into the principal’s office, and recount the whole regretful story of my assault upon poor, little, innocent Dean.
I hesitate at the closed door of his office for a few seconds.
Nah, I eventually decide. It’s just not worth it. Drery will probably hunt me down later anyway. Best just get it over with. Besides, I haven’t seen her around for a few weeks now, so I guess I owe her a visit.
When I go to enter her office, though, it’s not there. The familiar wooden budget door leading to her office with her name written in large, black, important-looking letters printed on it has vanished. In its place stands a door identical to Mrs. Drery’s except for the name and the lettering. In large, fabulously unprofessional print, it reads: ~JOSEPH MALLUSTE.~
What the hell…?
“You like it?” chimes an unfamiliar, male voice from behind me.
Startled, I whip around to find a six foot tall, lanky, shaggy-haired man smiling down at me. Ah. This, I presumed, was Joseph Malluste.
“I did it myself. The design, the calligraphy… All me,” he beams. “The school was going to paint my name on it for me, but I had stickers already made, so I figured I’d save them the trouble.”
“Um…” I stammer. What was this guy? He was obviously too old to be a student. A teacher, then? Of course not. He had a lip ring and huge, yellow-blond streaks in his hair, and… Wait. Was that eye liner he was wearing? “Where’s Mrs. Drery?”
“Oh, uh…” His smile faded into a hesitant frown. “She’s, well…”
“She had a mental breakdown, didn’t she?”
“Yeah.”
I knew it.
She had been dealing with difficult teenagers like me and impossible ones like Dean for decades. It was bound to drive her insane someday.
The thing of it was, now I had no choice but to return to class and be whispered about for the rest of the period, and I was in no mood to deal with that. Honestly, the only thing I was in the mood to do was go home, rant for a few hours on whichever social networking website that contained more people willing to agree with me, and go to sleep.
That clearly was not going to happen though. I had enough homework to occupy me for the next month or so, and it got larger every day. I was probably missing crucial notes on Freud or Jung at that very moment.
With a sigh, I turned to go, indecipherably mumbling something extremely impolite in reference to my beloved best friend forever, the American public school system, but I had scarce made it to the door when the allegedly eye-liner-clad academic albatross stopped me. “Were you supposed to see Mrs. Drery today?”
Resisting the urge to say something else extremely impolite, I merely nodded. If he turns out to be what I think he is, I thought, as Malluste’s face lit up upon seeing my affirmation. I swear I’m going to die.
“Good,” he says, opening the door leading to what is apparently now his office. “It just so happens that I’m Mrs. Drery’s replacement, so you can come right in.”
I died. It didn’t seem to matter. My feet still carried me grudgingly into Malluste’s office.

Comments (0) | Permalink

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Melt my brain and let me sleep.
Not for life, just for a few weeks.
Once I get you, I'll have nothing to prove.
They all tell me to relax, take a deep breath,
But how can I breath buried beneath a mountain of ticking time bombs?
I already have a Savior, now I just need a break.
Slow it down, tune it out for just a little while, and maybe just a little longer.
I don't wanna think anymore, I just wanna feel,
I just wanna know it's all going to be okay.
Love or lust, salvation or doom...
I don't want the real thing. I just want a nap.

Yuppppppppp.

I'm kinda tired and very hungry.
Thing is, I'm too lazy to cook. :P On that note--thank God for microwaves.

So anywaaaaaaaaaaay. My little brother Charlie was on TV today. :3 He's in this thing called the Maryland State Boy Choir, which is a huge fricking deal, and they were singing on the news this morning. :)
And... That's about it for now.
ily
~Belinda
Comments (0) | Permalink

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Why, hello thar.
Yeah, about last post... It's the whole That Guy thing. Basically, I used to like him, but he turned out to be a total asshole, yet for some reason practically everybody loves him and hates me. He also has impeccably good luck, so basically, he's impossible to compete with much less win against. I mean, I don't know him that well, but there isn't a single instance I can remember where he had to try harder than me just to be acceptable. *sigh* I guess the world really is in love with assholes. Whatever.

And, Corn, thanks for the picture of the koala. :) It made me smile.


Comments (0) | Permalink

Friday, January 8, 2010

I am in the shittiest mood ever and I don't even know why.
I just wanna get the hell out of this house, out of this state of mind, and feel alright. I just...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Why does everything have to be so complicated? Why does the universe hate me and love my enemies? What the fuck did I do wrong that he did right?
SRLSY. What. the. fuck.
I'm so mad...

Comments (0) | Permalink