sometimes i'm too jaded for my own good
written: 6:18 p.m. on Wednesday, Aug. 20, 2003

You see, I take my mom's car to school and thus am not bothered to tuck it in. I do it in school; just stuff the two front flaps of my blouse into my skirt and leave the back dangling like some bloody lantern or something.

And I didn't even have to go to the canteen if it weren't for my dear Mr. Girl who asked me to meet him in the canteen to pass him our Project Work file.

And I hate going into the canteen unless absolutely necessary, because firstly, it's hot and stuffy and it stinks, and secondly, the principal is always there and I always don't tuck in my shirt properly.

He didn't yell at me or even reprimand me. Compared to how he treats other people (he forcefully pulled a girl's hair once for the same reason - her shirt was not properly tucked in) he was actually quite nice.

But I think that was because I put on this fake front and acted totally understanding and non-confrontational. Mel gets away with quite a lot of things using this technique. No matter how annoyed she is by the principal for asking her to remove her earrings and henna tattoos, she never talks back.

And yeah. I kind of learned from her. I did try to explain but he didn't want to hear it.

He's quite a bleeding communist but I don't really give a shit. People hate him. Even want to haul him to court.

But I think my pathetic school needs him. Otherwise we'll be stuck in bottom five for the rest of eternity.

Ben gave me a lovely belated birthday present. It's a bottle of seashells and sand with a squishy basketball keyring attached. I like it. A lot. Thanks.

The New Kid was there when I went to meet Ben for a few minutes and after that he was quiet.

If he's actually jealous I'm going to smack him really hard.

And he's not going to school again tomorrow. Jeesus. I have a free period. What the fuck am I going to do during that free period without him?

And I think thirteen-year-olds who somehow con themselves into believing that they're in love are really bleeding stupid. (anything4you dot diaryland dot com). When I was thirteen the only person I thought I was in love with was Nick Carter and that was silly enough. I'm seventeen and I haven't been truly in love. And I'm not seeking to be truly in love. In fact, the phrase 'in love' turns me off quicker than a stout Christian or Catholic can switch off the porn channel.

It's just so corny and unreal. Like it's simply some idealistic notion conjured up by horny males aiming to get some sexy babe into bed. They spin beautiful webs of conceit that is transient and illusionary as rainbows and when they come they take it all back, tell you, "Oh haha, all I wanted was a good fuck, thanks", and by then it's too late for you've already given your virginity away.

And I don't even know where I get such ideas. Definitely not first-hand experience 'cause as fucked up as my previous relationship was he never fooled me into believing that he loved me.

I mean he did say the dreaded three words but I can't blame him, considering he's such a stupid airhead.

What a waste of time, that one was.

Whatever. I seriously need a shower.

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