I'm so goddamn restless and my life has been demoted to pretending and wishing I was studying for school and now all this blog will be uninspirational, miserable complaining. I sit and then when I near my parents walk closely around my door I quickly change tabs and pretending I'm doing Media homework. But in actual reality I'm reading rookiemag.com and being jealous about not having interesting things to write about. This morning I had a surge of excitement and now I want to start a blog with my friend where we'll write about stuff that isn't so melancholy. People with blogs get too famous. But the problem with writing is that no body wants to read long passages of dribble like mine. I need themes, motivation, and November 20th.

I am just soooooOOOOO sick and I can't stop complaining about it. After participating in a humiliating attempt at a flash mob and another attempt to impress people with the way I dance, I've pulled every muscle in my back and will proceed to lie horizontally until 2o'clock until I have to get up again. I am also coughing (without enough of that really disgusting phlegmy noise so people don't believe that I'm sick) and have sneezed on about six different people. I'm also very tired and very not able to do the three SAC's I have this week. I would like to lie in my fresh bedroom for a few days so that maybe I can be alive again. I think I'm making friends though so that's nice. Someone save me

All flowers in time bend towards the sun

I see the future in color. It's not a dark place. I feel comforted because i have control of what I do in my future. No longer will I have to attend science classes and have a bed time.
I will live in a world where I'll do only what I want to do. 

I often think about what I'll do and who I'll be and what I'll have. The future has never been a scary thing to me because I've always known what I want to do.

People are fooled by the thought that a career defines them. If they don't get a good job then they'll be disregarded by society.
But seriously, what do you need lots of money for anyway? 
A big TV, a big car, a big house, an iPad for every individual in your family.
I don't see the big deal about lots of money. Obviously I understand the purpose of having money. 
Because I live in the present, I don't have any savings. 
To a person who has thousands of dollars in their bank account, I am the scum of the earth. How will I have a good life if I have no money now?
Yet these same people complain "why should I have to decide what I'm going to do for the rest of my life when I'm 17?"
All the money I need right now is ten dollars a week to buy a goon bag.

But how will I have a good home?
I never wanted a big house. Not even when I was a little girl who dreamed of her wedding. 
Big, modern square houses of death cannot be called a home. A home is a humble, comfortable place full of your style. 
Big houses have style - but it's a shit one.
the house I'll live in will have personality. You can't buy personality. You can't buy substance. 
I'll live with enough money to make me happy. My job will be like a small hobby to me, because first of all, I will love my job but there is no way it will define me. 
My friend said once that I just don't like to work. And it's true. To slave for selfish consumers is a waste of my time and energy. I need to focus on landscapes and music. 
I want enough money so I can learn things about the world. I want enough money so I can meet the people worth knowing. I want enough money so I can travel around the world and see everything I deserve to.
Yeah traveling around the world requires lots of money. But it's money well worked for (in a job I like) and well spent.

The future should be bright. And I know it's bright because not all of the world is full of shallow idiots. There are places and people that agree.

How can you not be excited? You no longer have to sit around and wait for something else to happen. 
You may fear the world but you can't fear yourself
Man that's fucking cliche 
But it's true. 
You can't let yourself get burried beneath everyone else's wants and needs. Because its your life.

My Literature homework; In what ways has this play led you to think differently about life?

As humans, we often become encapsulated within our own lives and spend months at a time wandering around with goals which seem important to us and a direction in which we have created ourselves. Every so often, we are dangerously reminded of the insignificancy of our lives. I visualise my body on a street corner, as if in a film, the camera zooming out until I see our Earth, then our Sun, then our Universe, if I could be so naive to label it “our universe.”
I collapse into the overwhelming thoughts of how nothing I will ever do will change anything, and no one will remember me after 100 years.

Rosencrantz reminded me of “the only one direction, and time is its only measure.” Death is inevitable. It is a terrifying concept in which I suppress deeply in order to be classified as sane. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead forced me to think of the very thing I forced myself not to.

I often ponder the concept of immortality. If I am so afraid of death, why not just live forever? Rosencrantz extends my thoughts, “Life in a box is better than no life at all.” And yes, to me, it is. Life is much less frightening than death and I would prefer to live forever so I would never have to experience the realisation of being forgotten. Then, I remember that with death, there is no experience at all. In death, I will never think another thought to myself. So, I would rather be stuck in a box, just thinking to myself. And yes, I would be thinking “at least I’m not dead.”

Then, Rosencrantz informs me that “eternity is a terrible thought.” Because when I do think about it in depth (with much more depth than I would enjoy), there is nothing worse than being alive for all eternity. Considering the concept of immortality, as time passes, it would become evident that time meant nothing to me at all. The essence of life would indeed be sucked out of me because what makes life most precious, excusing cliché, is the short time in which we have to live. Inspiration whirls inside my body, and I begin to feel as if there is no time to waste. Then I begin to think about time. As I visualise a clock I realise that one day the hands will stop ticking for me, as if the batteries have died. However, it’s not batteries. It’s me who has died. It’s me who has ceased to exist.

As Guildenstern proclaims, “death is the absence of presence,” “an endless time of never coming back.” To me, death is a black hole, a dark emptiness that feels too enormous to even witness in my imagination. “Light goes with life,” along with your friends and family, your triumphs, your struggles, your pain and the distinct sound of your laughter. Death symbolises an endless period of insignificant memories that have been thrown away. Life becomes seemingly pointless if death is inevitable anyway.

The play did not lead me to think differently about life, instead Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead led me to the thoughts I’m trying to repress. The play reminds me of the pathetic mortality we all possess. However, there are ways in which we may escape such a chaotic world. I’m yet to discover all possibilities of happiness, but one aspect of life I’m very fond of is companionship. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are very much harmonized companions, even in their own fatal journey.

I think to escape that feeling that nothing is really happening in your life, for me, is to look at other peoples lives. I really enjoy blogging and reading other peoples blogs to see how they live their lives.
The worst thing is to not look forward to the future. And sometimes people will look around them and ask themselves "what is the point?"
In the big picture, there is no point. You can think of how indescribably massive the earth and universe and other universes are and realise that in that big picture, you don't mean shit at all. You cannot change anything and you will not achieve anything great. Well, you might do something great for man kind, but realistically, not everyone does.
So that's why I shorten my vision to what is ahead of me. What do I like doing? What kind of people do I like? What kind of life would I want to have?
And I'm pretty set on being happy. That's all I would like.
I have to start thinking about what I really want. Maybe I'll tell you.

I'm not much for commercialized holidays. Not by choice, it seems that everyone around me "hates Christmas" or believes Valentines Day is a "marketing scam." And I see there points of views clearly. And I'm not about to say "but Christmas is a time for families to come together and celebrate a time of giving" because the only thing that happens to me on Christmas is when my parents selectively provide me with four pink Cruisers as a merry privilege and I'm placed happily next to my cousin where he whispers dirty jokes to me at the dinner table.

It's not a time for giving, for me, it's a time where my mother buys me things I like and then the rest of the time plotting ways I can exchange my gifts for money.

Christmas is a time for my mother to get overly stressed while I struggle carrying the oysters and yelling at my dad for asking to bring the dog to my Aunties house.

Christmas, for me, isn't a time of giving. Because I don't actually have any money for myself. My parents fund me to buy presents for them, and then I don't really have to get any one anything else. I'm really self conscious when it comes to gift giving, after all people have said about hating their presents 95% of the time. I also have a skewed taste when it comes to all things buyable, the only person who seems to get me right is Emily when she says "yeah, this is a Katie movie."

Christmas is pretty much just a day were I spend time at my Aunties house while all the shops are closed. It's a time of year where I whisper "Oh God" as I turn the corner into my street and see my house luminescent with home made Christmas lights and shapes. It's a time of year where my house smells like Pine tree and I'm required to wake up two hours before I normally do. Also I'd like to mention last year, my Dad bought himself a folding bike and labelled it "From Santa". This has also occurred every year since I learned to read. Not the bike, obviously. My parents buy themselves presents and label them "From Rudolf" "From Prancer"

I then receive presents that I actually don't mind if they were carefully chosen by myself, but I didn't bother to send out a list of things I want to any of my family this year so I'm interested to find out what they've bought for me. My dad's side of the family think that I'm this dirty hippy who wags school and dresses like MC Hammer, and so they all try to buy me items of clothing that are just as outrageous as the claim that I'm a dirty hippy.

Picture the love of your life. They’ve got the cutest little smile you’ve ever seen, they’re sexy, pretty and beautiful all at the same time. You get overwhelmingly happy when you hear them laugh, especially at one of your own jokes. They’re smart and funny, strong and so very kind. You feel like you’d do anything to never see them get hurt. You’ve gone through the toughest experiences of your lives together, and you cannot imagine living without them. They’re amazing, everything you’ve ever dreamed of – trapped in the best body you can imagine.

Then one day you wake up next to them, and you look them in the eyes, and you realise that you really do want to spend the rest of your life with them, every day. Through sickness and in health. And you ask them to marry you. Because that’s what you want, you want to get married and have a wedding and show everyone how much you really do love each other.

But what if... there was this thing. This incredibly narrow minded restriction that didn’t allow you to get married. And it makes you so furious.
No. You’re not allowed to get married to the love of your life.
Why?
Because they’re the same sex as you.

(Just felt like writing the introduction to my year 12 English Oral on Legalisation of Gay Marriage at 12:20am, 2 days after school)

Tumblr and it's fucking stereotype

People shouldn't openly admit how lonely they are on Tumblr because it's awkward when the person they like begins to stalk them.

My friend Elsa, along with Naima, owns disposable-beauties where they post photos they take with disposable cameras. They come up with some really nice photos. Except where I'm featured in them and look considerably drunk and unattractive.

With Tumblr comes reblogging, which comes people reblogging photos of me over 500 times. People I don't know have photos of me on their Tumblrs.

This would be nice if it wasn't for the fact that they weren't reblogging because of me. More, because of my attractive friend Dylan, and I'm the repulsive whale in the corner of the photo.

The number one issue I have with Tumblr is that people just reblog photos of other peoples lives, pretending like it's their own, or openly wishing they lived a life full of beautiful rebellious people and their weed. You're pretty much creating a photo album of cooler things you could be doing with your time. But your not. Because most of the people reblogging those photos are 14 years old and alone in their bedroom all weekend.

People also shouldn't spend more than two minutes on teenage girl Tumblrs because you will be left feeling hideously fat and ugly if you stare at hot girls in their ratty and ripped, yet disguised expensive General Pants Co. clothing for too long.

I also hate Tumblr because it's full of secret wannabe hipster kids who pretend they hate hipster kids so that they are a hipster. Triangles are so hipster. But I do remember the time where you had triangles all over your About Me, and were quick to remove them as soon as the first anti-hipster triangle picture was released into the pathetic internet ocean of depressed adolescent girls and sexuality-confused guys.

Also when peoples url's are like barbiesacunt and ilikegettingfuckedintheasswhiledoingcrack

Or when people repeatedly post photos of people having sex and doing drugs to express their frightening rebellion against authority and delinquent-like persona.

Yeah this girl posted pictures of her Kings Of Leon tickets and was all "not long now" "i love them" "i'm so excited"

And all I can think is "shut up."

You knew them because of Sex On Fire. Which even Caleb considers to be a piece of shit.

And I know I'm an intensely indie stereotype but I knew them when no one knew them at all.

I don't think anyone understands the rage I felt when people started pretending like they knew their shit about the Kings.

You don't love sex on fire. You can't love sex on fire.

It can make you happy as fuck and remember that really fun time you danced around to it outside with your best friend in the summer time.

I know I'm really possessive. But fuck you. They're my favourite band and the only person that deserves to be graced by their presense is me, and people who actually love them.

I'm also exaggerating my feelings towards this alot.

I don't care.

Anyway. I'm seeing them tonight.

If I see one 13 year old in denim underwear, I'll cut them. In the neck. With the Stanley knife that I'll be carrying in my pocket.

I think I'm going crazy. I think that's what this is. I think I can't sit in my house for more than a day or two because I go utterly aggressive and insane.

This one time I read this article in Frankie:

"Sure, The Boosh, Kings Of Leon and MGMT are all over inhabited, and there are those who'll sit up in the back of their tavern screaming "I found them first" to anyone who will listen.

But the truth is, you're the captain of your ship and if you feel like its yours then no one can take that away from you."

I'll make a video.

This isn't how I feel at all.

I feel kind of sick. The fragility of my fingers and mind could be dangerous.

It's funny how people's lives can be shaped by feelings.

And I don't want to say things that get me wrong but I'm so confused by myself and there's a lp forming in my throat and I hate people reading this all.

This isn't tumblr. I don't talk about my teenage love angst problems

The bottom line is I kind of hate everybody and I'm accumulating an uncomfortable amount of men's underwear in my bedroom.

Alot of bad shit is going to happen in your life, and it's going to suck gigantic balls and all you feel like doing is crying and watching romcoms and singing sad songs in your room. You're going to feel so damn shitty. Your heart will drop, your eyes will puff the fuck up and you'll be so lost. You'll be stuck in this absolute rutt and you will feel like no one will ever really understand the shit you went through. You'll write blog posts about it and hope they'll stubble across it and understand.

Alot of really sad shit is going to happen.

But you know what? You can't cry forever. Your eyes will eventually get tired and they won't cry anymore.

So you know what I like to think?

When your in that moment of utter shitness, you realise that you are not benefitting whatsoever from feeling this way... So why feel this way at all?

To sit around and cry about things that are over is a waste of time. It's over. You're not going to feel better if you hate somebody or feel sorry for yourself.

So you accepted the things you did wrong. You understand they were wrong. You're sorry that it didn't work out the way you wanted. But its pointless to spend more than five minutes thinking about all the things that are wrong with you. It's a big fat waste of time and you could be doing something alot better than being miserable

That's why I seem like I don't care. I care. I'm just saving time by being happy.

If you, or other people have a problem with yourself, go a fucking head and try to be better.

Yeah it's my downfall. I try to be better all the time. This results in arguments, power struggles, low self esteem issues and a few multiple personality episodes.

But I'll try so hard to be better so that I don't have to waste time.

I'm an avid believer in doing what you want to do and not wasting time, if you haven't noticed.

I'm controlled by the id, and I really don't mind. Somehow it might be selfish.

Get the fuck over it because you can be happier. You can be less insane and more like the person you can be if you try.

Don't misunderstand me please. I don't like myself for all the things that I did wrong but I'm not going to improve if I feel like shit.

So I'll do whatever I want and be with who I want because I deserve to be happy, and so do you.

My Media class is really fucking boring. My teacher is just sitting in his office while we read the entire synopsis of One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest that he copied from Sparknotes. So I'm playing around, listening to the same four songs I've been listening to on repeat for a day and a half.

Sometimes I can't handle school time because I get so damn restless and bored. I detested going to Media because even though I do jack shit, it's not good because I feel like I'm wasting my time. I could be doing a lot more. So instead of reading the 32 pages required for "exam revision" (which consists of my teacher not bothering to do actual work and instead lets us watch movies that he feels like watching that day), I'll stalk my own blog and find things that make me really happy.

I like people. I like people who like me. I know what it feels like to want to be someone. So I only feel good about it. I like giving people chances to be my friend. And some people try slowly and end up catching me completely. I like those kinds of people. I like finding out that people think about me too. I'm pretty sure I walk around, oblivious to what everyone else thinks. Not because I don't care, I just don't have the capacity to think about too many things at once. I'm a horrible multi-tasker and the things I think about already are way too consuming. I like it when people disregard my ridiculousness and adopt it as hilariousness. Yeah, I understand that I'm utterly insane and I really don't mind.

I like to grab people. And surprise them. And make them happy. And make them comfortable because I find it so easy to understand how other people could feel.

So I'm happy with my new best friends and my lovers and the sweetest kinds of people that care about what I have to say too.

I wish I knew you.

If I had of listened, I wouldn't be in this position

I just read a letter from a boy to his girlfriend who passed away a few months ago.

I cannot think of anything more terrifying and sad. It's so sad. To have to talk to someone who cannot talk back anymore, ever again, is just so empty. To think that he'll never get the chance to see her again. I get a pain in my head just from that thought.

I have enough trouble dealing with not seeing the people I love enough already. There's always future with them. Even though they don't seem like they care as much, I still hope they do.

But he'll never know. She can never tell him she loves him and she'll never tell him that she's okay.

It makes me wonder what I would do if I knew that I didn't have long. I'd spend time with the people who make me feel the happiest. And I'm just so sad because she'll never come back and if that ever happened to me, my entire universe would collapse. And to think there was so many times where it could have happened to me, I just can't think.

It's in moments like these where I really need someone to tell me they love me.

I am the fucking queen of saying things you just shouldn't say. Do I think before I talk? Not really. I don't regularly say openly mean things because 1. I don't think mean thoughts 2. I'm not witty enough to come up with a comment. But I just say the definite shit you're not supposed to say to the people you're not supposed to say it to. I have absolutely no judgement of situation and will often be the one to let the secret slip. I can keep secrets easily if I'm told not to tell anyone. But people often leave out that fact or I will find the situation to be appropriate when its not. Anyway, I'm hilarious and incredibly embarrassing and sometimes I fuck myself over so much and I'm the queen of awkward situations. I need to learn how to think and also talk quieter.

Okay so I'm about to start my holiday homework because I have to go to school tomorrow. Yeah I used to be the kind of person that could do it properly. Actually not really, I've only ever done holiday homework on the holidays one time but it made me feel really good.

I always thought year 12 was going to be so great and I couldn't wait and all. But I have a strange feeling my life is ending right now or something. You know when you look in to the future and you realise you have nothing to look forward to, yeah that's what it is. I'm so looking forward to year 12 but I just can't see it.

And as I sit here wishing I was doing work, a little voice in my head says "No I can't do it, I can't do it" and I literally try to push myself but I find myself reading another blog or talking.

But don't worry guys because I did the literally minimum requirement of holiday homework tonight.

My life's on pause. I need to find more photos.

I hate knowing how young I am. Because, of course yeah I'm a teenager and I think I know everything, and I take my thoughts and feelings really seriously. When you're a teenager, everything is so heartbreaking and all your feelings are enhanced. But I still take myself as a real person, and I get frustrated because people in their twenties are so damn condescending and then it makes me feel stupid and small. They're only three years older than me but how are they so different? I'm much different to me when I was fourteen, I get it. But I feel as if I should stop talking until I'm twenty one and then I'll know what I'm saying.

My brain is getting tired from thinking so much.

It's hard to write when you're not talking to anyone in particular. So, I don't know your story. But because you are reading, you probably know a bit of mine. I'm one for writing long long passages about things I've been thinking, I tend to use my words recklessly but meaningfully. And recently I've been doing a hell of a lot of laying down wrapped in a doona thinking. Maybe I'll think up an imaginary situation, or have a memory replay again and again with more detail each time. He'd touch my hair or my cheek. He'd kiss my face and spin me around. He'd confess his three dimensional feelings and he'd make my heart burn. And I'd listen to Matt or Jeff and wish I felt the same way they do. If I was broken glass, I'd be glued together with the love I always wanted. The glue now would still not be dry, and the cracks would make the glass kind of crystalised instead. I'm a fierce shade of crystal. And I'm so okay with that. The time will pass, maybe all too quickly.
A lot of the time I forget that people don't know what I'm thinking, or understand how I feel. I assume that I've told the people who I think about, what I think about them because after all, I'm the one thinking about them all the time. Then I'll remember the conversations that never happened, they don't understand what's going on and I'm just as mysterious as I want to be. But then I forget that not everyone is a free shape. Not everyone will think even deeply enough to realise the levels that people have. Some people I encounter don't care for the stories and dreams to be shared. Some people just don't have them.
Which makes me think I live in a different height of awareness to everyone else. Yes, it's quite self conceited but some people just don't understand shit and it's hard to relate. It's also really hard to relate to what I write sometimes, I'm sorry about that dear reader. I don't know if you understand what I'm trying to say.
I'm going to start calling the readers of this incoherent piece of scroll Beatrice. Like, as in Lemony Snicket's Beatrice.

Dear Beatrice,
I cherished, you perished.
The world's been nightmarish.

My dear Beatrice's, my life is now. Your life is now. You might die in a train crash tomorrow and you're sitting, complaining and whining about things that don't matter. Some people are so pretty, and some aren't but they should be judged. It's easy to judge people accurately. But everyone's got a story, no matter how they tell it.

I need to start making sense soon. What am I thinking right now?
Boys. Yeah that's pretty much it. Real boys. The boys that you don't encounter in movies, fragile sensitive awkward cute boys don't exist. Thank God. Boys are so much better than girls. I wish I was a boy. And I'd have a companion like Louie and Claudia, I wish I was that in love.

I'm very confused as to whether I'm easy to know. And if I'm the same when I'm alone.

People tell me I'm happier now. I'm so goddamn happy, it kills me sometimes. But I'm getting kind of sick of my fantastical idealism. It's kind of silly. The life I lead is too alternative. Not, alternative as in the genre. Just not a normal one.

Emily told me I have a big ego.

Hopefully that isn't true.

I want to stop there, but I don't want to stop writing.

My thoughts were a lot clearer when I wasn't writing it down.

I just want Beatrice to know that I know what I'm doing, I can definitely think myself.

I would just really like to fall asleep next to someone tonight.

I found this in my notes from the 2nd of may, 146 days ago.

The light in my chest glows dimly 
The strength I once had disappeared
And the labrinyth I've lost myself in
stretches further into the horizon
I force the light to possess my entire body 
It tightly stretches like an old elastic band
Give it some time, I tell myself
I'll wake up to the sun
the light will soak through my skin
I cannot wait to shine again
To ignite a smile and tainted laugh
The scars on my soul will heal
and the zephyr will accompany me

Isn't it really weird that everyone feels that tugging in the same spot? It actually comes from the heart. Surely there has to be some kind of scientific blood circulation explanation for it. Why don't we feel that warm feeling in our heads instead? because after all, we're thinking about that person. There is actually something in our bodies that feels love. Isn't that wonderful? It's so definingly human.

Come back

I've been listening to a lot of Soko and I realised that my new nickname should be Baby Cat.

My moods change so quickly, it's crazy. I'll see one photo of someone that makes me sad and my entire world will collapse and it isn't fair because no one should affect me anymore. I'm healing, repairing and getting over it all and it's not fair because I feel alone again. Today hasn't been a very good day, really. Sleeping wont make it better. But neither will wallowing.

I'll never be okay if I always think about the bad stuff. But there isn't anything to make me feel better again. It's really funny how quickly I can feel unloved. I need a constant stream of attention. I'm dealing, then I get angry and revengeful and never tired.

Then I say "Shut up Katie, you know people love you. You overreact unnecessarily and you're not supposed to be one of those people."

Instead I'll watch something that will make me feel better and get over it all. That's what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm supposed to suck it up and get the fuck on. And I can manipulate this mood to make me not ever feel guilty. Guilt is the worst kind of emotion because I'm a thorough believer in being selfish if you're the one that's right.