Some people won't understand it, but when you live with someone you have a deep hatred for and wish nothing but hurt and pain upon, life isn't so rosey sweet...
This person has caused me so much pain in my 17 years of life. Both mentally and physically. I live with this person. There isn't a day that goes by where I don't think about what this person did and how it is impossible to un-do. No one can feel how I feel, and no one can understand how I feel until they can tell me they went through the exact same thing. I have no one to share to this secret with apart from my teddy, who knows how much I cry and scream in my pillow some nights when the anger and rage over what this person has done takes over me. I cannot show my feelings, not even to the person I care most about in this world. Why?...Because that would ruin everything. I would ruin everything. I don't want to be the person that breaks them apart, although in my eyes it is well deserved as this person deserves nothing else but to be left to rot in his own SHIT.
The words that come to my mouth whenever I think of what happenned seven years ago, I have to scream in my own head so no one knows my hidden secret which I am today mentally obssessed with, unwillingly. I do not know how I have managed to keep this secret for so long. Every day it eats me up. Bit by bit. And yet I am absolutely muted. I try to imagine myself telling people about it, and then I try to say it out loud, nothing comes out. It's too painful to even let my lips utter the words of evidence. Everytime I do try to say it out loud, I'm scared that person is listening, or someone else is listening, and then who knows what might happen. Maybe they won't believe me. Maybe they'll think I've gone mad. What if that person denies it. Then what?
It's hard putting on a brave smile every day as if your life is perfect. Even though I know if I just speak to someone about it, even that one person whom i love so much and might believe me, everything might turn out ok. That person could be out of my life forever, and I would never have to worry about it again. My mind would be free. I would not have to live with those tainted memories ever again. I would not have to see that person's face again. I would just be me. But I don't even know who me is. That person has stopped me becomming me. Everytime they are close to me, I freeze up. My brain stops functioning, my body feels numb, and the sudden urge to just grab a pan and slam it across their face and see the blood pour out from his skull... the imagination is satisfying for a while, until I'm snapped back to reality, and they're he is in front of me...
How do you know if what's in your brain isn't just something you've made up, or could it be real?... If no one else knows about it, there is no evidence. The story could reverse back on yourself, and you'll be the one to blame, they'll walk away with free hands.
Life sucks. Rosy...the victim. xoxo
I was just reading one of my favourite bloggers blogs, beautycruch http://beauty-crush.blogspot.com/ and she was wearing these unbelievably cute shorts. So I went on the link and OMG!!, these shorts are super hot =] Had to share a few of my favourites:
Nicola robert's 'Lucky Day' video.
I do not own this video.
Forget the song, what on earth is she wearing?...
As society starts questioning artists such as Rihanna and Lady Gaga's dress sense, out comes the innocent Nicola Roberts, whom we have all loved and known through the girl band 'Girls Aloud', wearing a tiny dress, uncovering her leapard print undies. I mean if this is the message that artists are trying to put out there, then I don't want to be a part of it. The only things young girls can look up to nowadays are what they are shown, may it be on TV, on the radio, magazines, newspapers. It's all the same and it's all wrong. If young children watch videos like this, they'll think it's ok to walk around in public like this. It's the norm to dress three year old tolddlers in something similar to this, it's cute, but for a 25 year old woman, it's scandalous, disgraceful, degrading, and merely offensive to women.
Mothers I ask you this... would you let your girls walk around in something like this? ... I didn't think so either.
Ok so I’m only 17 years and one month of age, but I am already sick of living. Is that bad?. I can’t see how people make it to 50. I’m scared I won’t. I find it tough to imagine and even comprehend how some people manage to wake up each morning and go on with their lives, knowing they have an wonderfully stimulating day ahead of them. In this society, that is what we are made to believe. It’s what we see day after day on the newsstands and on our laptop homepages. Celebrities out and about ‘living’ their lives, and then us... watching them live their lives (or is that just me?).
I’m 17 and I don’t know what to look forward to when I wake up in the morning. I don’t know what I want to do. I don’t know what I want to be. I don’t know if I want toast or cereal, and I don’t know if I’ll be spending the day clued to the TV, watching endless repeats of ‘Pretty little liars’ and ‘Friends’. At times I’m so confused about life that I feel so small compared to everyone else (even though I am 1m75), I feel alone, and just completely unaccompanied. Even though I have a big brother (whose never around anymore, because he’s too busy either working, or at the gym, or obsessing over his bike and his cycling gear, or at a friends’ BBQ, or out to the pub, or at a night club), a mum whom I love very much, and a dad, whom I’d rather just not say anything about as he is not worth my breath...literally.
School holidays are meant to be pleasurable and exhilarating for everyone, but not for me. I’d much rather be at school. That way I can be away from home. But when I am at school, I wish I could jump off the sixth form bridge outside our common room just to escape the noise of everyone else around me. People annoy me. I don’t have one person in my life whom I can share my real thoughts and feelings with. No one understands, although I cannot verify that as I don’t tell people anything about me and how I feel. The girls at school are as fake as Pamela Anderson’s tits, and the boys are just rude and well, to be fair, just as fake and judgemental as the girls. Teachers are just there for the payslip and the long school breaks. Parents are just there for food and shelter. And me, what am I here for?