it's finally hit now.

this is one thing that only time and space can fix. and i don't think time or space is doing that. if anything it's just tearing us apart. ad i don't know how to deal with it. i know he was always just gonna be mister right now, but the thing is, the shit thing is is that i let myself get attached. and i didn't realise it until right now. at like eleven thirty (god i am a party animal woo!). i thought i was dealing okay with the breka, i thought that i had finally got the hang of seperating sex from emotion and seperating it all. but no.

no. fuck no.

i'm still that fourteen year old girl desperate to be loved, look for it in all the wrong places. i know i have the worst taste in guys, i know i generally go for the boys with the bad cars, the boys with the bad reps all because i think i can change them. or they can change me. and they change me alright. they fuck with my head, they fuck with my life. ex bf number 1 - i still have the scars and the bruises you gave my that night. and i will never forget you. and i will never get over you. and i will always flinch now when someone touches me and i'm not used to it! ex bf number 2 - i loved you for a while. and though it didn't last long, i hope that you and i end up together because honetly you are perfect. and i placed you so high up on that pedastool that i am afraid no one is gonna live up to you. and that hurts, so much. because, i want you so bad, i want your touch, i want you but i know i can't have you. i just, can't. current bf - i want us to work. your different, your not like the guys i go after. i thought you were good, but you just had swagger. and i must admit, i always fall for a guy with swag. low rider jeans, flipped up cap. you're smooth but your words cut like knives. you think you know me, you think you know what hurts me, but you don't. and i wish i could let you in, but i tried and you can't handle me. you move fast, i stay stuck in the moment. and like i said, you have swag and you like me cause i got something that you like. you found me physically attractive. and i liked your swag. but we're not going to work.

and i know i'm comparing right now. but, what the fuck am i supposed to do? how do i cope with this? it's so vague that it ain't even a break up but i want it to be over. i want to make us work, but like i said, he has swag and i'm the uncool girl who's a nervous fuck. we're not gonna be a love gives me hope story, and i'm sure as hell never gonna be that pretty little girl that he wants. he wants the old me, the me that everyoone gets to see. and i can't do that, if he wanted it shallow, should've said it at the start. but i like him. i do like him. for his swagger? yes. for his car? yes. but because he turned me on like none of the others, boyfriends and crushes, ever could. he was sexy. and fuck, i'm a physical being that's for fucking sure.

fuck. i want us to work.

but will it? god, he talks to her at work now. he looks at her, the way he used to look at me and she fucking flirts with him all the time. i see it in her eyes. and me? i'm okay. i'll always be okay. im second choice. always have been always will be. and he's no different.

ex boyfriend number two. i wish you still wanted me. cause i've been thinking about you a lot today.

i just want to get married and be in love already. i'm over this.

long time no update.

ho snap. this was written like three years ago, and i'm pretty certain that i have most likely erased some of the earlier stuff that was written on here. which is annoying because i love reading past diaries of me, gives me a glimpse into happier / sadder times. mind you the only times i ever write on a blog / write in my diary is because i'm fucked off with the world, or i've had some sort of epiphany.

today is definitely no different.

this time around it's an epiphany of sorts.

i can't control the world.

it seems like such a beautifully obvious statement, but for me, not having control is hard. i have always thought that i've been kind of easy going and laid back, but now that i think of it, i am most definitely a backseat driver. you know? the type of person who wants control because they hate the way the driver is driving. that's me. i always have to have control, and i always try to assert it in the most subtle way possible. i need to control everything, from the way people feel about who i am to my relationship with the manfriend to marks. perfect example of this - i want people to perceive me as carefree, confident, strong, secure and okay. when they see the cracks in my image i can't cope... i need to control their image of me so i can be okay. and if that means painting on a smile, and insiting that i'm okay when all i wanna do is fucking smash something... then i'll do it. another example, i wish i could control my bf but i can't, he's a human being. i can only control my perceptions, but my mind has a habit of running away with paranoia and befriending the worst scenarios possible.

i can control the little things, but the things i can control i take it to extremes. i study eight hours on end and hide myself in my room for hours so people can't see me stressing out under this facade of "i'm okay". but study has been one of the only things that i feel like i can control, so i take it to the extreme, to compensate for the things in my world i can't control. so, i need to remember, i'm a human being. i need time to breathe, to seperate myself from the books and not to define myself by marks and other people's perceptions of my intelligence. it's sad, but i feel like if i define myself by marks, i won't be as disappointed as defining myself by how i look, what i wear, or who i am. i know i can be a horrible person, i know i can be there for a friend whenever they need it as well... but marks, they're tangible... controllable. but i cannot let marks and percentages define who i am.

i know this. i know i can't base my world around trying to be perceived as "intelligent". i know that believing the foolish notion that to be successful in life you have to be pretty or be smart. it's something i have always been told, you have to be pretty to succeed. you have to be smart to make it somewhere. no one has room for a dummy, no one has room for someone ugly. gotta love influences, right? i know i can't do the pretty thing, but i can do the intelligence thing. but no, i realise now, to be successful in life you should be happy with your own life. that's success. and one day, i'll get there. one day i'll be able to say i'm happy with who i am, and i define myself by merit... not by percentages and a's. but, you know, saying shit like this on an internet blog is so much easier than putting it into action. who knows, maybe i'll go back to bad habits, the self loathing and the running away from my problems. all i do is run and avoid, it's so much better than dealing with it. but, whatever, life is life.

and this is just an incoherent ramblings for a teenager, stuck between childhood and adult responsibilities. but at the end of the day, all i want is happiness. pure, utter happiness. the joy of looking out at the world, and say you know what, i can do this.

one day i'll be able to be happy with who i am. one day i'll be okay again.