Hello world~!

I'm back. 



I've pieced myself back together with time, healing and deep soul-searching.



I'm moving to Middle Earth/(New Zealand) to start anew.

 Today started off great. I had a fun time with mein seniors, Kriska, Jeje (and Jel). It was fine, dandy and downright peachy,,,,


...then the admissions started raining in.

It was intoxicating, the exhilarating feeling that washes through your veins, as adrenaline keeps you energized enough to receive babies.



All 5 of them. Only one of which, I (did) admit as mein.


4 of the babies were given to mein superiors: Kriska and Jeje, glowing from the toxicity. It was very depressing and (sorta) disheartening.


Then there's this. 
Litlle shite, whose familial relations to the Queen Hussy (Mightiest, Insecure wench that ever was), had the imaginary balls to even INSIST on moi' driving the bigass SUV.

Let's see you try driving the SUV, all through the hours of the busy afternoon. Now, I understand why so many people are pissed off when they're driving (to insanity) from maneuvering their (manual) wheels and traffic.

Fuckin' wench. Please let there be a footnote next time? You do have a car, why not use yours? You're so insistent of using what's being used by (other) people., WHY THE FUCK DON'T YOU USE YOUR OWN DAMNED METAL BOX!?!?!?

I hate it when people misunderstand me. Yes, there might be minuscule bit of jealously but the rest of it is just plain rage. Rage that just because.....please they DO have the fuckin' money. Why not just take a damned cab?? Better yet...USE YOUR FUCKING OWN!?!?!?


I hate people like you! I honestly hate your damned female creator. I hate your fuckin' comments about every damned thing. Yes, we (also ) do that. But not to the point of making a damned commentary on EVERY fuckin' thing.


And please, PLEASE do shut your gob off your damned Mum. She's makes too much of a scandal (for her own good). Like a psychotic Mrs. Weasley. Very misguided and (wannabe) omniscient. Reporting every fuckin' thing. 

 Hello dearest,

I'm in a standstill today. I can't ever decide if my face will change from the ever frowning to the pitiful bawling mask one shows whenever in deep, deep emotional pain. 

It's like an ages-old wound, left festered to rot. Rot away while poisoning the flesh inside. 

It seems like an achievement for me really. Thinking that I've finally accomplished something of a good thing. But it was not really....it really was like a dream.

A dream that an was going so smoothly. Littered with happy endings and fruitful wishes. Wishes and hopes that could one day become true.
But like all dreams, it was never as it seemed. A picture, thought, an occasion dressed as an ugly creature haunted that dream.


My dreams as always were never this disastrous or mortifying as this one. Which led me to believe, since when did I care about other people think? I was so used to using that as a crutch.....that I never  did regain that sense of self that I had.

Back from my glory days. 

It is very disheartening. This thing. Somebody beat you to it. It was never that simple to begin with. It might not even come to that. 


So, why regret? I can't help it. Regretting. You see, this is the poison that came with it. Regret, with it disappointment and resentment. I don't want that fester in my soul. I just want to feel productive. Productive but never used.

Why didn't she tell it in the first place? That she would be training there? WIll it seem very arrogant? Yes. How the mighty hath fallen.

How will I pick myself up? Pick up the pieces?

Pleaseplease help.  I need help.

Don't let me fester this in my soul.

Because it poisons. It reeks. Reeks heavily of negative things. I don't want negative things.

 I wanna die.
My head is reeling from all the angst.  

I realized how much I had going......and subsequently easy it is to fade away.
I missed everything. I miss my old self.
The one so fiery. I guess, like a certain Arthur, my pirate!days are over. I'm now the bitter old shell of the wild and reckless.....untamed being I was back in the olden days. We even had the same thing going. Although, I'm not immortal. My bitterness and loneliness drugged me to the gills at god damned twenty two. I even had the same delusions. Delusions, I won't name because it is far too many.

I won't add to that by denying it. 


It aches. Aches so much. Abusing my physical body seems to be the only thing that keeps me grounded. Everything's a lie. 

That numb sensation, of pitting yourself against everything. Just to reassure oneself that you're real. That you are still there.

still there alive. awake and mentally breathing. 

So I pray. To whomever. If I go out, what purpose will I fulfill? If I stay, what productivity will I achieve? If I try, what sense will it make?
Can I just sleep? Sleep forever? Or trap me in a cocoon? Gorge myself in things that make sense.

Abuse oneself into turning you real? Just to see a certain spark? 
If I break down now, because I'm in near to snapping the threads of my self-imposed reality, can I will myself back?
Can I bring myself back to face the world?  I once stated in a previous post, how utterly Slytherin I am.

Call me coward. I don't care. I value myself enough to spare me the pain. But isn't being in pain, makes you feel alive? The masochism tendencies I've been forever practicing are really painful to reminisce. 

I feel so fractured inside. Everything's in a standstill.


Come on. Make me feel alive.

Something. Anything.