i think i'll keep my mouth shut from now on, like that boy in Little Miss Sunshine; only i wont start speaking if i completely break down because i've done that already. quite a few times and no-one seemed to notice before so i doubt anyone will the next time(s),
i found my old Kerrang! cd, and it prompted me to put up my MCR poster that my sister so unceremoniosly took down.
my sister bought headphones yesterady. the really huge, chunky type that make your ears go numb if you keep them on for two long without any music.
is it weird that i want to read someone's blog? a really interestting someone, a someone i don't know and probably never will. it makes me feel a little stalker-ish in a way but i'm sure i'm not the only one. people make blogs so strangers will read them, don't they?
ye gods, what a waste of life.
these days, it's like if i talk about anything, it seems so pointless i stop myself. i mean, there is very literally nothing left. my parents have based our entire lives on education, and look how badly i've screwed up. in the back of my mind, the very dark back, i think it's not all bad because i've always been good at studies, it's just now...and that's where i stop. i stop and think, fuck you, you useless piece of flesh, you've ruined everything. and for what? friends? because you know, i don't have them anymore. the only ones i have left are the only ones who told me to stop messing about and study. but i didn't do it entirely for friends. i just, i didn't KNOW. i have to justify it somehow. i didn't know. if only i knew.
bloody hypocrites, though. i've turned the music up as loud as i can before my ear drums pop. well, maybe just a little louder. to block out the scene around me.
/what/ a waste of life. i just need some books and some music, and i will ignore everyone so intensly they'll beg me to speak to them because i am fucking /sick/ of aishaji and faizaji always making my parents proud, and bringing home the measgre amount of good news we get given.
och, the top of my ear hurts.
i'm listening to angels and airwaves and i have to say, they do, for the amount of time i listen to to them, make me feel very happy. not happy, just...hopeful, i suppose. i walk away from the computer feelinga  little more hopeful, but it all kind of trickles away as quickly water in your cupped hands. oh honestly, i keep getting this image of me, sitting in a double decker with these headphones. man, i love the chunky ones. i was really rather hoping she would bring these.
i've stopped eating as much, though i hardly think that's something to notice.
desire and deserve.
i wrote a five page long randomism thing about myself. none of the things i wrote were false. i plan on putting them up here soon.
i was really pleased with- i was going to say sir ahsan's comment on the last post, but then nishen's stupid face popped up in my head.
i swear, momo was so right. offcourse, she was talking about pat but it's the same thing, really. thing's seem genuinely okay before he comes in the damn picture and i want to scream and pull out my hair. and lot's of other thing's i'd really rather not mention.
i want someone to bloody hug. and no, not sarah. i've been wanting some new people for a while now and life is not letting me have them.
damn you.
i miss saad though; his cynicisms on everything except me. i hope he's okay, i hated the stupid fight thing we were having. i really wanted to call him on eid but his number wasn't on any of the phones, and i really didn't want to ask sarah or arghal. i'm really happy about the asad thing though. i love how he never makes things awkward. and the shy joke my sister's got hold of is steadily getting less funny.
i hate how hypocritcal they all are. they'll say he's a good person, and then say, 'look how he always stays so long' and i think, for craps sake, he's the only person i ever see and the only reason he stays so long is because he knows he's the only outside-family face i ever see.
and because i don't stop talking and actually give him time to say, 'well, okay...so i'll get going then' i usually, oh man, i usually talk to him for a long time and then kick him out.
i wish things would hurry up and get a move on already; it's ironic that the more i thrive for routine the farther away i get from having one.

gotta get it back to, a back-up plan to find you, start acceleration, take it back to square one.

bonnie taylor shakedown should be the soundtrack of my life. the good parts, that is. i think i'll take asad's advice and introduce something new in my kitchen. and yogi bear, for fucks sake, stop typing like that.