you don't deserve any of this
written: 6:09 p.m. on Thursday, Oct. 10, 2002

School was boring. They've shortened the schooling hours by a bit. Now we end at 1.45 p.m. What a big difference. I guess it's better than nothing.

I have a tendency to think faster than I type. The words flow from my little brains with a faster average speed than my typing's average speed, so sometimes words get left out. Like the last sentence of that previous paragraph. It was originally, "I guess it's better nothing." I completely left out the word 'than'. And sometimes I jump from one thought to the other and write strange things. I would write "Peter is a girl" instead of "Peter is a boy".

That wasn't a very good example but screw it.

Now, let's all go on a stupid and senseless rant that wouldn't make any sense a few weeks or so later, shall we? Yeah? We're all up for it? I just knew it. We all love to rant. Because it's so fun and it takes some pressure off keeping it all in.

So really. I'm sick of a lot of things. I'm sick of school, of friends, of my grades, of how I don't discipline myself to study and get that stupid distinction that I deserve but won't actually mean anything in the long run. I'm tired of this scene. I'm so disgusted at the hypocrisy around me. They construe these crazy perpetuated crap that float around and contaminate everyone, and when it goes back to haunt them they pretend they know nothing. It's the same old story, first conceived two years back, and I'm so, so tired of it. I just want it all to end and move on, and become anonymous without a label so that I can forge a new mystery and be original.

It's so hard to talk to people you can't relate to, because you cannot trust them to understand. There were times today when I wanted to tell the friends stuff, but I didn't want to go through the hassles of explaining and getting a blank response. It's bothersome and stale. I can't be bothered with it.

So you ask me if I want to keep in touch, and my answer for you right now is I don't. I want to get out of this school, cut off all links with almost everyone I know now, fly off to some exotic island and write a novel. That's what I want to do. I don't want to go to some stupid junior college and waste my time. I don't want to take the O Levels even. Hell, if you really want my honest feelings, I don't want to go to a university. Creativity cannot be created, and neither can it be taught. You either have it, or you don't. Some of us are too unfortunate not to have it, while others have creativity thrusted upon them (which is not creating; they simply acquire that skill), and the latter group of people are the lucky ones. You cannot teach a person to draw if art is not his forte, neither can you teach a person to write well if his command of the language is pathetically sad.

This English language shit, and my ability to write. You see, I wasn't born with it. How the fuck can I be born with it when I didn't grow up speaking English? It's something I've acquired, and I'm glad for this great turn of luck because I have something I'm (relatively) good at, and I guess I can use it to make money. Now, the point of all these shit is, people who are supposedly close to me aren't happy with it. They act as if they don't care. I get an A1 for English, and they are like, "Oh. Yay." I state that I deserve an A1 for Literature because it's fact (it's also fact that my standard of Physics is that of an F9), and they are like, "Why? Are you that good?"

You see, I'm opinionated. I assert my opinions aggressively, whether you like it or not. But that's only in writing. I cannot tell something like, "I think you seriously suck as a friend, so fuck out of my life, thank you" to a person's face, but I can do so in writing. And I know people I know read this. Which is good. Like I said in my disclaimer, you're the one who chose to read this. If I should hurt you, too bad. It's your problem, so don't come crying to me or bitching to me, and certainly don't act as if I've committed a great crime by stating my honest and truthful opinions in my online journal. Believe me, it gets a lot harsher in my private one.

Consider this light. It's understandable if anyone should not follow what I'm saying. Really. I'm always attempting to link paragraphs together as I tend to go off on a tangent. But this whole thing kind of makes sense to me. It's how my mind works.

So like. Take it or leave it.

My dad's back. I got guestbooks to sign and stuff so I'll leave now.

before sunrise // before sunset

Previously:
- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010