xemoxomegax (xemoxomegax) wrote,
xemoxomegax
xemoxomegax

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BabbleBabbleBabbleBabble

Sometimes I’m agonisingly naïve. I was toddling along quite happily through my life, yet somehow I was looking on at something I wanted. The life I wanted. The person I wanted to be.

So I make a plan, make a chart, make a lot of lists (OCD habit. Lists are good.) and… I don’t follow them.

Honestly, if I thought being clueless and idle was frustrating, it’s nothing compared to having a plan and being too disgustingly lazy to pull it off.

That seems to be my word of the day…week…month…year…life: Frustration.

I’m realising so many things. My vision has cleared, but sometimes I wish it hadn’t. Sometimes I wish I had stayed in my fantasy, because this reality is a fucking bitch.

Like my ego was boosted by my family for so many years, I have all these false illusions that I’m some fantastically wonderful creature that can do whatever her little heart pleases, whereas in in that mother-fucker-called-reality, I’m as arrogant, lazy and insolent as every other stereotypical teenager out there.



Through all my youth I promised myself it would never happen. I was a lovely little kid… fuck I was awesome back then. I was a true goody-two-shoes, brought up by my grandparents and my parents, family always around me, used to cooked dinners every night at the kitchen table and making paper mache dogs with grandad. I was full of innocence and energy and fantasy and light, always telling everyone I wouldn’t be a mouthy, idiotic, lazy, snob of a teen.

And look at me now. Aren’tcha all proud of how I grew up? An uneducated, homosexual porn reading/writing/roleplaying, arrogant, imbecile of a wannabe rebel hormone bomb.

I have everything. Every cliché. Every once of vanity, major-lack-of-depth, whininess, emoness, wrist slitting-ness, music-loving-ness… it’s all there. I’m every fucking teenage stereotype there is and it’s quite simply dismaying.

My mother doesn’t help, since she’s ever stereotype for over-protective, loud-mouthed-violent mother’s there ever was and every could be… We clash. A lot. She rants, I tell her she’s speaking shit, she rants some more. It’s a never ending cycle of wasted time, breath and tears.

We all know it’s all going to blow over and one of us will say sorry and make a cup of tea and cuddles up with a TV show.

But still… difficult all the same. What fascinates me, is through all the anger, so many of my problems were solved.

If there is any thing I wish to change… it is that my father was my main teacher instead of my mother. He’s such a calm, patient, understanding man. I know it’s wrong, but when I listen in on their conversations, I cry so hard because he’s saying everything right. Everything he thinks about me is so right, he understands so much without even having to talk to me, and yet my mother brushes it off and says all his ideas will never work.

Well actually, they would. I need to be pushed. I need a little discipline. Otherwise I’m gonna be living in a snazzy cardboard box in a Woolworth’s doorway.

But he helped. He said I can do some work in the day and he’ll mark it for me at night. And it sounds like the most obvious thing in the world. Something so simplistic that everyone who goes to a school will undoubtedly take for granted, but that tiny act of having to work to get a mark…. Fucking hell that’s such a relief.

And I won’t let him down. I won’t show my momma that his ideas are all ‘wrong’. Because they’re not. Because my daddy has the right idea and I WILL do my best to prove it. I will do my best to make him proud, because he makes me smile through my tears.

::luffsdaddy::

Then there’s the internet issue.

I know it’s sad, I know it’s pointless, I know it’s nonsensical, but by cheddar… nothing frustrates me more than someone stealing the computer from me. For ages I’ve been ‘BRB’ing every five minutes because my mum and sister have been demanding on, and it’s driving me absolutely batty. Finn_icontest pretty much died and all my RP characters kinda… poofed.

So now, I fixed that too! In a haze of tears I used sympathy to coerce my sister into a treaty. She goes online for four hours a day, from 2:30pm to 4:30pm, then 6pm to 8pm. That’s kinda alright for me. Better than the hour on hour off we had before that nearly drove me to scratching her eyeballs out.

But that strange, warped calm has fallen over us all. Part of me loves it, part of me is secretly freaked out. You know the one - increased politeness, kindness, cuddles and smiles. It’s all pretty false, but it makes my sister laugh, so hey.

Right now I should be cranky that lil sis won’t let us watch Wolf Creak on FilmFour, but I’m too damn excited about Guns n Roses tomorrow ><

Actually… I’m looking forward to Bullet a lot too. But meh. Major Axl fangirling.

I made the mistake of saying ‘I want Axl Rose!’ in front of a Sunday school teacher, however…

Apparently she knows that anagram…
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