Bring them closer, push them away.

I spent the day with the best guy yesterday. He’s amazing. There are no strings attached when I’m with him, I’m comfortable. Walking, eating, listening to music and driving. Perfect way to chill with someone. Ok, so what happens when you get home, realize how incredible they really are and suddenly like them?

Bring them closer, risking what’s there for the minute possibilty they might have a crush on you, or just leave it – knowing it’s never going to happen.
Hmm. Fucking hate things sometimes.

Bittersweet Future.

“Today is gonna be the day that their gonna throw it back to you. By now, you should have somehow realized what you’ve got to do.”

Since I was 13, I’ve had a basic idea of what I wanted to do. It was continually a dream of something significant, flashy, and important. A lawyer was generally my only passionate choice. Maybe it was because I was so young, and merely wanted to be it since Elle Woods [Legally Blonde] did it with such class. And because I had the tendency to never back down from an argument.

That’s not the case anymore. Here I am. Edging on 16, being advised that I need to decide what I’m going to do for the rest of my life.
My report card was appalling. I know what you’re thinking; it’s merely a grade 10 report card, no big deal. Well, my parent’s reaction was ultimately suggesting I drop out as I virtually failed.
Every time something like this has happened; I’ve blamed everybody but myself. Now, I realize – this is for real. Can’t blame anyone but myself. There are no second chances. Unless, of course, you’re actually considering repeating. I know what I want to do and I know who I want to be.

I want to live in New York. So at the break of dawn I can run and watch the sun rise. So that I can walk down the street and have thousands of people walking with me. I don’t want a quiet, subtle town. I want a big, bright, loud city. I want to work in a world-famous fashion magazine, and write articles with such precise and class that I’m renowned for them. I want to be respected and valued as a person, not only a employee. All I want is to have a wonderful life. I want to be respected and acknowledged in my career.

The last thing I have ever pictured being is a Noosa District Grade 10 high school dropout working at Woolworth’s till I’m 60. I can’t believe that the suggestion is even being considered. I’m better and smarter then that, aren’t I? Clearly I’m not. I don’t have the motivation. I don’t have the will power; I’m starting to believe what I’m being told. That I’m going to fail.

I need to prove not only those who doubt me wrong, but myself. I need inspiration and incentive. I need to know I can follow through with my ambitions and succeed.

Where do I even start?

It’s much better then Diet Coke.

I recently have gone on a giant health kick, including 30-40 minutes of cardio a day and eating no processed foods.

In my adventure into becoming a better equipted, healthier person, I’ve been reading a book called “girlosophy – REALGIRLSEAT” by Anthea Paul. Inside, on pages 106-111 there have been some excellent juice drinks and smoothies, which I have been sworn by as to the reason I’ve been so energenic lately. Today, I made my own invention. It’s not only delicious, but I’m feeling so up and ready to do my cardio, it’s difficult sitting still and typing this.

Here’s my recipe – try it.

You’ll need a juicer by the way.

2 Apples. NON CORED, SKIN INTACT. [also, leave the seeds in, as they contain vitamits]

3 Slices of pineapple [from a fresh pineapple, I don't use tinned fruits]

1 Whole carrot

Handful of grapes.

Then, juice it all up and wal-la. It’s magnificant.

Don’t you dare tell me..

There is no such thing as ‘emo.’ Ok, so maybe not in that terminology, because it’s really not a practical label but you have to try and understand me. How do I know there is? I myself went through that pathetic stage. It was over a year ago this month.

I want go into the irrelevant details; I’ll keep it short. I went to the plaza a fair bit, to try and ‘scope’ out these emo boys with my friends. It wasn’t until I met one in particular I started to try and be one. Dying my hair black, cutting a mullet, wearing everything black, you know what I mean. It wasn’t until 6 months ago I realized how entirely pathetic that was in itself. I didn’t just change to suit them, I changed my morals, I lost friendships, all for the sake of fitting in with the out crowd.

Before this, I was a real outdoors type of person. I was tanned, I had waist-long light brown/blonde hair and I was happy. I really don’t know why I changed but I did.
I wasn’t on myspace but then, because I was never home, but as I changed, I got myspace and suddenly, I was as pale as white, hair as black as when you close your eyes and I was getting called emo. Believe it or not, I didn’t mind. When I got myspace, I got a camera.
For obvious reasons.

I was gross. I was depressing. I was the complete definition of a person who follows. I can’t even remember what that was like. I wanted so bad to fit it.

You might be thinking: what’s the actual point of this? My point is, people are continually saying “DON’T JUDGE ME” and shit. But, seriously – who are you kidding? You WANT people to say your ‘emo’ or ‘scene’ etc. I hate the fact that I know I changed to fit in, yet people can scream, rant and rave and say they did it for themselves, and they are entirely original. Give me a break. People like that are only trying to convince themselves.

Lucky to say, I’m finished with it. I’m finally getting tanned again, and my hair is now brown, blonde and mahogany. No black. My ‘mullet’ is growing out, and my hair is finally bra strap-length. I’m sick of the ‘emos’ and I wish that one day everyone will finally fucking wake up and go back to being themselves. Yes, I obviously still use myspace, but never to the degree where I sit here all day adding emos and writing “I love black” and “suffocate me” everywhere. I was a joke, a laughing stock and It’s embarrassing knowing I was like that.

Anyway. This is written in no more then feelings being expressed. No hard literature or in depth explanation. This is pure anger and exhaustion combined.