Fare Thee Well, My Friend

My dear blog, we've come to a cross roads and I must now leave you. We've travelled far, we've travelled wide, we've laughed, we've cried and we've yelled, stomped and screamed in anger. You've been there when I needed someone and you've dutifully posted all that I have written without one single complaint.

There comes a time when even those who never want to change, do inevitably change and while I don't resist change like some I never thought this day would come. There may be other blogs later on or other websites or something else entirely. Right now, this minute, this blog has done what it was meant for. I've told my story and there's nothing left to write; here.

I will continue to write, it's who I am, but I won't share my writing. The rest is yet to be written and it's for my eyes only. I could be bitter and mean and say it's because no one else deserves my words, and while part of that is true it's not all there is. I shared myself and my journey so others would know what it's like to live in my world. I shared because I thought I was doing something good, maybe not always nice, but good. These posts, my life, means no more than a leaf falling from a tree in autumn. It's so small, so meaningless in comparison to the world.

My dear blog, I won't delete you; not this time. You are a part of me, whether we wanted to be linked or not. You will remain here, to teach those who wish to learn and to show those who wish to be see.

To you, the reader, there is no happy ending here. Look somewhere else for that guilty pleasure.

Goodbye my Blog. Keep safe from all those that will hurt you, abuse you and those who will say you don't mean anything. You'll always mean something to the one person you were meant for.

Fare Thee Well, My Friend.

Internal Soundtrack

The current soundtrack in my head is:

sadsadsadsadsadsadsadsadsadsadsadsadsadsad

Tired of listening to Sad on repeat I changed the CD. This is where things get a little paranormal. The CD changed back to Sad, without me touching it. 

I know, you're gasping and the shock has blown you back in your chair. 

Paranormal activities aside, the CD won't stay changed no matter how many times I change it or how much mood altering medicine I take, it's stuck on Sad. Repeating over and over and over...

Something that makes me happy is...

Knowing that I am loved and have some awesome online friends; Twitter to be precise. I'm lucky enough to have been given a few super cute presents, which due to @artistiquemeg's kindness, have lifted my spirits by a miraculous 100%! Right now I feel like the most spoilt woman on the face of the Earth!

Yes I know it's the mirror image, you'll just have to read backwards!! 

This is my favourite picture even though I'm not wearing any makeup, at all. I look really pretty and happy. 

This is to prove that what is inside this box is edible. In fact they're little milk and white chocolates! Chocolates people!! 

So it's official,  I am the most spoilt woman ever right now and I'm loving every minute of it!! I can't thank Meg enough for these wonderful gifts and her beautiful Hello Kitty card that she so carefully made. I haven't photographed it because, to me, that one is really personal and special. 

There's You and then there's Me.

So I'm sitting here on my bed, looking at pictures, reading tweets and looking at Facebook. I know this doesn't surprise you in the slightest. Especially given that I have three blogs and have accounts for twitter, Facebook and tumblr plus flickr, photobucket and deviant art.

Anyway, my stalker-slash-need-for-attention aside, I was reading my friends' status messages and debating if I should annoy them with responses when I read a comment for a friend who is going through a really nasty time. It was simply:

"you + me and a bottle of vodka. You up for it?"

I started to cry. Yes, yes, I know I don't cry and that I hate it but I'm sick and tired of being alone and so yes, I freaking cried in front of my parents and everything. That's how upset I was.

I cried because I can't offer to do that for my friends because they're either too far away, don't talk to me and mostly because I don't drink so the offer would sound more like "you get drunk while I listen to your drunken woes." It might just be me but I don't really think that's very appealing to anyone.

The main reason that I cried is because no one, no one, has ever or would ever do that for me.
While I appreciate the offers from my interstate friends, it's not really the same seeing as though I have to drive 3 plus hours, depending which friend has offered. Given that I'm generally in a pretty bad state of mind when I need someone, anyone, it's not really safe for me to drive (as discussed in many previous posts.)
There are some friends in my state territory, however they avoid me like the plague. Perhaps I am a plague seeing as though the highlight of my day is writing a blog post or going to my my psychiatrist appointments.
Sure, it's lovely to have people comment on my blogs, which always results in a few moments of sheer excitement and it's always lovely to have artificial hugs, again causing brief moments of joy. These moments are small but potent and I wouldn't diminish them for anything in the world; it's all I get.

All I can think is that I must be a terrible person, seriously awful, to have no friends. Of course there's a rational part of my brain telling me that it is my fault since I require a lot of space or sometimes I smother people when I crave human interaction. Apparently I haven't heard of moderation.
But it's more than needing space or smothering; it's my personality that hinders me the most. At least, that's what I think it might be. All in all, and without dissecting my personality that would take many years to complete, the only conclusion I continually come to that fits like a square peg in, well, a square hole, is that I'm an awful person. People don't want to be around me. Most likely due to being a leech and sucking the life out of people.

Perhaps this blog accounts for some of the trouble too. Being so honest here and talking about what annoys me, what I think and need, how I'm coping and the random waffling in between is actually putting people off. I suppose they can keep updated with my life through this and thus have no need to see me or talk to me.
Yet even without the blog I am basically forgotten. Well, forgotten is great for the dramatics, however I'm not sure it's true but "forgotten" is definitely what it feels like.

I would really like a friend. A real friend. A friend who will actually listen to me sometimes instead of always talking about themselves. Although you have to be what you want to receive and given that I have to beg on my blog for people to even notice me, I suspect this means I'm an awful friend. Okay, okay, I know I'm an awful friend. I was just trying to put it nicely so I wouldn't cry more.
And yet, there is still an element of me that feels like I should be able to be a shitty friend sometimes because I was such a good friend for 23 years of my life. It's just a pity I haven't known anyone for that long for that comment to be proven. The joys of moving around as a child sure pays to bite you in the arse later in life.

So I'll cuddle my teddy bear and participate in internal conversations as I try to piece things together and attempt to make sense of everything. I won't ask for help because I'm ignored, probably with good reason if I were to analyse it. I will write this blog and then remind myself never to speak of it again as people don't want to read things like this. I'll cry in the shower so no one can see me. I'll wonder if it's possible to get better and to live life. I'll read blogs and social networking updates about how wonderful everyone is, how their friends spoiled them by taking them out and all the lovely things they do for their children. During all this, like always, I will keep my mouth shut and keep the hurt inside. I'll let little things slip, either to see if anyone is listening or because I'm too emotional, usually the latter.

And I'll do everything on my own. Simply because that's all I have.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

I wanna be free
Just me, babe!
That's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning
That's why I'm easy

As you may have guessed it's Sunday morning. I know, you're astounded by my perception and, to be honest, so am I! It's just another day of course, the beginning or end of the week depending on your personal preference. Either way, it's not as easy as the song suggests!

We'll forget that the song is about the guy leaving his girlfriend and how he is actually complaining about the constraints and pressure of being someone whom he is not.

For as long as I can remember Sunday's have never been easy, at least in my household. Sunday has always been a day of high anxiety with the impending Monday looming dark over head. This anxiety was at it's peak when I lived in Sale, Victoria. You see,  in 1996 Monday's meant primary school, which meant The Run and disgusting teachers who would bully me because I was (and still am) not very good at running.  My anxiety manifested in such a way that when I ran I would hold my breath! Anyone who has ever run in their life knows that breathing is one of the most important aspects of running. Having a steady breath equals a good steady run. So after a few steps while holding my breath (without realising I was doing this mind you) I would inevitably have to stop and pant and, consequently, wonder why I wasn't able to breathe. At this point more panic would set in as I realised I would have to walk and thus get in trouble, again, for not running.
My friends weren't much help as they too would tease me for being fat and lazy because I couldn't run. No one ever asked why I was having so much trouble and, as far as I recall, no one cared. I was on my own.
In 1997 at the beginning of high school the anxiety got much, much worse. Not only was I now in a completely different environment with new students but it was here that the bullying increased. My very first day I was called "steam roller Renee", which didn't really help in reducing the fear of being there. Of course, that name stuck throughout the year I was forced to attend the school, despite my best efforts to be the nicest, sweetest, quietest person. The latter failed miserably as I wasn't really able to keep my mouth shut and that became another avenue for the other kids to tease me. The part that used to really make me angry, and I mean angry, was that there was another girl in my class who was the same size as me yet no one ever teased her. She was even more pathetic than I was but somehow I was the one "chosen" for the "privilege" of being teased. What the fuck was up with that?
What ever it was about me I managed to cop it all, except being physically touched. I'm still unsure why no one tried to beat me, they managed to break me mentally so it would have made sense that they'd "finish the job". Maybe they just enjoyed breaking me from afar?

Of course now it's 2010 and we're on the verge of welcoming 2011 and these things should no longer factor into my every day life. Yet, strangely, it still does. The old panic still surfaces every few weeks and I begin to panic as if I were still the 12/13 year old I once was. Of course now I can talk myself down from the hysteria and dry wretch inducing panic and remind myself I'm now 26 and no longer the helpless, pathetic child I once was.
Well, I may still be rather pathetic.

Sunday's may be easy and I'm quite sure for a lot of people they are lovely days of cruisey relaxation or maybe housework or maybe even a day of cute cafe's while reading the paper and meeting friends. What ever the day means for others I'm quite sure it's not the anxiety ridden dread that my Sunday's are filled with.

I Am Ninja. I Am A Yo-Yo.

How many people can say they are ninja!?
I may not be the legitimate thing, but I can day dream and my day dream includes being a freaking awesome ninja.

You may be wondering why ninja is always in italics. This is simple; one must always respect the ninja. 
Next time you meet a ninja you'll be all set. I know, you'll thank me when that time comes.

Anyway, apart from being the most awesome ninja on the face of the planet, I am almost one of the most skilled emotional yo-yo's. Indeed, it's a hard job to be so skilled in emotional yo-yoism. There are pressures one must encounter that the ordinary emotionally stable person can't even comprehend.
For instance, you have to be able to keep everything under wraps so no one knows what is really going on in your life. This also becomes easier if you happen to be a ninja.


Of course there are other things that separate the emotionally stable and the emotional yo-yo's. Things like:

• being able to orchestrate insanely fast changes of mood in the shortest possible time
• finding ones self crying over something that happened 6 months ago
• laughing hysterically until one cries, for no reason
• grinning at the worst possible times (it's not appropriate when your friend is crying on your shoulder because she/he broke up with her/his boyfriend/girlfriend)
• having a short attention span, especially when people are talking about boring things
• one word: tantrums. 

You see the emotional yo-yo's are the most interesting and fun people you could possibly meet. They're also the most sensitive, intuitive and caring people. Think about the person you turn to for a shoulder to cry on. Do you turn to them because of who they are? Do you turn to them because they're there?

For most people, the person they turn for help, guidance, love and support is usually the emotional yo-yo. That's just because they are all kinds of awesome. 

So my advice to you as a ninja emotional yo-yo is to think about what your emotional yo-yo means to you and give them a hug, maybe even a kiss if you're that way inclined!

Show your appreciation for them since they're the ones most likely to need the reassurance. 

I am ninja! I am a yo-yo!

Cats, Weather and How Gorgeous I Am

Ever feel like you want to say something but aren't sure exactly what it is you want to say?
Well, that's where I'm at right now. I have this burning desire to write this blog post but no idea what I want to say.

I suppose I could talk about the weather, but since we have online weather reports you can actually see what the weather is like all over Australia.

I could ramble on about my life and how angry, sad, depressed and crazy it makes me. But it wouldn't take long to look at my previous posts to see all that.

There's always the option of dissecting a disturbing news articles, whether it's serious or just plain ludicrous. But that is so rarely interesting it even makes me yawn just contemplating it.

I could go into detail about how gorgeous I am and why everyone should love me. But you already know that and I really wouldn't like to preach.

I suppose I could find something to actually be passionate about and write all kinds of inspirational and challenging posts. But I already do that on the strangedomain.wordpress.com Here Comes Trouble blog.

I could potentially take photo's of my cat, Titan, and gush about how adorable he is. But Titan is camera shy and won't let me share how adorable he is. I suppose that's sweet in a way, almost as if he's exclusively adorable for me.

There's always the avenue of writing about food; restaurants or raving about some recipe. But seriously, could you see me writing a post like that?
No, I didn't think so.

Or maybe, I could spend an entire post running through the possibilities of things to write in a post. Actually, that sounds like a rather good idea!