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February 25, 2012

sometimes. things are painful for no reason. and it makes me wonder if, maybe i secretly like pain. maybe. otherwise, why would i put myself through this torture? why turn down the invitations for the movie and for dinner and instead sit here crying to myself? oh yeah, you want to save money. But that’s not the painful part is it?

I don’t understand myself and yet i expect him to understand me.


i always said i wouldn’t put up with people lying to me. especially not someone so close.

i guess you never really know until you’re in that situation.

you say you won’t let anyone beat you.

but when you’re there.

you just forgive. again. and again. and again. and one last time, and another last time…

the last times won’t stop.

we just delude ourselves into thinking, no he’s promised. he won’t lie again.

well he did that the last 3 times, bitch, what makes you think his promise means anything to him this time round? they don’t. and yet. you stay anyway.

because this time. it’s different.

oh yeah sure.

and now it’s my fault for bringing up the past. it’s my fault for being sensitive. it’s my fault i don’t WANT to trust him.

fuck that.

sometimes i feel i don’t have a right to be this… emo.

sure, there are many things wrong with my life.

but hey, i should be grateful for what i’ve got. and i think many people see me that way. like. happy go lucky. grateful.

but secretly, i’m this emo little kid.

i hate being an emo little kid.

it pisses me off.

at least i’m studying what i want. at least i have a loving extended family. at least i have all these friends. at least at least.


y grandfather’s dying from cancer and here i am, so far away from dad is screwed mum doesn’t have enough money to send me to uni so far away and yet i’m still here, sucking the life out of her as she works her ass off to get enough money for my comparison, the problems with my boyfriend don’t seem worth mentioning but they add to the problem boyfriend’s parents don’t approve of mehe’s of a different religion. (fuck religion)and he lies to me.

… at least i’m not starving to death as a street beggar.

at least i’m not handicapped.

one day someone up there will strike me with something truly horrible and i will know what it means to suffer. and i’ll know how truly lucky i am.

i mean i know i’m really lucky. i do.

but it’s just so hard to snap out of this self-pitying depressed… mode.


i think my dad suffering from depression has really affected us. i think we all think that depression and other mental illnesses are hereditary. and that’ not good.

i am an emo kid. but i refuse. refuse. refuse. ….


i’m hungry i need to go cook.


From → family, lies, love

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