Thirty Seventh

I am the sort of person who, fight as I do,
allows school
and matters of the heart
to get in the way of writing.
I become uninspired, which makes me restless,
which gets me grumpy, which makes me want to write to calm myself down.
But alas I am uninspired.

Thirty Sixth

I'm the kind of person who likes the night way more than the morning. Go Night Owls for the win! Everything's quiet and slightly colder and winding down. Writing is best at night.
Unfortunately I'm also the kind of person who has Night Owls as friends, too. So they write too.
And since I don't sleep until late, I don't wake up early.
But some friends *ahem* do. And they tend to get to blogs before I do.
And steal my comments.

Thirty Fifth

and I'm the kind of person who keeps things in.
Who takes a situation, rips it apart, analyzes and re-analyzes, and draws the worst conclusion imaginable, gets fixed on that, and keeps it all
in.
Keeping it all in, and keeping people out.
It's tiresome.
But that's the kind of person I am.
For now.

Thirty Fourth

The thing is
I don't like a lot of people. It takes a lot - so much so that I wish it wouldn't - for me to really like someone. And I tend to only like people I've gotten to know, and know very well. And if I've gotten to know you, you're my friend.
The result is
I then tend to like friends.
The problem is
Friends don't like me. Because we're friends.

Thirty Third

I'm the kind of person who's changed since high school.
A lot of people have, you know it when you bump into them, you see it on their faces, you see it in their clothing, in the way they speak. Or just by the fact that they are now speaking to you.
But I've changed in a different way, a way that you'd have to look closer to find.
Because I'm snarky now, and I mean it. And the insults come faster, and sometimes I mean them. And it's because my mind has just grown darker. And the compliments are still there, but I'm too scared to say them, and I'll place them in backhanded compliments. Because if you flirt with everyone, then no one is special. And no one can hurt you.
And I've stopped caring about what people think. I just want to be myself, and not have any misunderstandings. And I've grown weary of people. But I keep trying.
I don't let things go. I don't forgive easily. I don't trust anyone anymore, and even when they earn it, I still don't. And I wish that could change.

I actually still do care though.
very fiercely
possibly more than I've ever.

Thirty Second

I'm the kind of person who's an artist.
I hadn't discovered it until grade five.
I hadn't realized it until grade eleven.
And every time I see a textbook, see friends working on algebra, see geometry at play, see a formula following a formula, following another formula, I laugh so hard I have to sit down.
Because it is absolutely ridiculous
how much I don't miss science courses.

Thirty First

I'm the kind of person who wants to make enough money to travel. A lot. Like. A lot.
I want to travel every month, live in a different mansion. You see,
I want to keep living in a place that's consistently 0-10 degrees. Consistantly autumn. Consistantly hoodie-weather. Insect-less. Some rain, some sun. Leaves constantly multi-coloured. Breeze a constant.
I want to make enough money to keep travelling so my life is constantly Fall.
Yeah.
That's what I want to grow up to be.
An Autumn Connoisseur.

Thirty

Sometimes it feels like I’m not even here to live.
live my own life

I was put here to help. I’m just a helper, all I do is help. Help the world, help my family, help my friends. All everyone wants from me is help. And I help, and I help, and I help, and I sacrifice.
I sacrifice so much and never ask, never expect anything in return.
So much.
For nothing. For nothing because no one wants me.

Everyone needs me, to be something, to be someone,
but no one wants me.

Twenty Ninth

I take off my glasses before I cry
because I don't want to see the accumulation of teardrops.

Twenty Eigth

Cantonese doesn't have the phrase "I love you"

We don't say it to each other.
Growing up, I'd never heard I love you, never known what I really like you sounded like.
(I don't really know how I eventually figured it out.)
And when said, it's just strange. It's just a strange phrase, no one says it. If you were to, you'd just be given a strange look, a mental paper plastered on your forehead, "Foreigner"
Love is foreign, chinese people don't teach it.

But strangely enough,
It wasn't the chinese culture
that made me look at love the way I do.

Twenty Seventh

Someone asked me, "When they call you weird and you sarcastically thank them, do you honestly not care?"
I replied, "Yeah. I don't."

The thing is,
I don't have to impress you.
It's hard enough liking myself.
I don't need to be liked.

Twenty Sixth

I don't know why it is the way it is.

When I'm angry, my writing grows more and more obscene. More and more unnecessary curse words, italicized for emphasis on screaming. I ramble and ramble because actually speaking and talking about how I feel is the last thing I want to do but the first thing I can.

When I'm smitten, it shows. It just shows through and the endings are all happy and I can't write unless it has a sweet moment, a tender exchange. I can't even think without smiling and that smile becomes the intent of the writing. I write to share the happiness.

It's completely transparent.
My writing is just completely transparent.
I think if you analyze my writing enough, you can know.
You can know me.
I hate that about it sometimes.

Twenty Fifth

I'm the kind of person who's more drawn to gay storylines on television shows.
Mostly because they're all based on trust and being brave.
And then eventually about giving in to something you just can't fight.
That's cool.
That's what all relationships should be about.

Twenty Fourth

I'm such a hopeless romantic.
It's just.
It's just so bad.
It's really really hard to be a romantic
when you have so little faith in people and love.

Twenty Third

I'm the kind of person who'd pour you tea against my better judgement.

Twenty Second

I usually judge my would be romantic links based on

1. How you would act around my friends.
2. How you would react to my playing tetris.
3. How you've reacted to Harry/Ginny and Ron/Hermione.

Twenty-First

'Don't worry about it.'

I say this a lot.
I find so many things go wrong in our lives
and there aren't enough people telling us it's going to be okay.
It's a lie.
Things aren't always going to be okay.

But it's a good sentence to keep in our pockets.

Twentieth

I'm the kind of person who includes the third wheel in conversations.
I've been the third wheel in so many.
I know what it's like.
And it hurts.
Past the 'Oh, no, it's fine'
and the smiles,
it hurts.
And ultimately rude.

I try to avoid being rude.
I hear it's rude.

Nineteenth

I'm nothing like my parents. I like to think that I am nothing like them.
I don't know if I am anything like my parents.
I can feel like I am, sometimes.

And that's okay.
Sometimes it's okay.

And sometimes
it's a horrifying thought.

Eighteenth

"If I really am imagining my life,
why don't I imagine happier things happening to me?"

I really like this quote.
Like, a lot.
I really like one-liners.
I'd love to have a dictionary full of them.
Awesome, kick-ass, heartbreaking one-liners.

Seventeenth

Ahem.
I am so not waiting for your reply.
Refreshing every five minutes
Developing OCD routines to distract myself
Making sure I'm on the right account.

I'm not.
I...I have a life.
And I'm getting back to it.
I swear.

Sixteenth

I have a tough time differentiating the loss of it all.
I can't figure out if I've lost faith in love
or people in general.

I still believe in love. In a really really dismal way.
I still believe in people. In a pessimistic sense.

But I don't believe in either. And I think we hurt each other because we're too scared of actually feeling something. I don't know if I've lost faith in either. Maybe I've lost faith in myself.
I don't even know if I ever had any in the first place.

Fifteen

Sometimes I get so angry
I'm surprised I don't physically morph into a werewolf.

Sometimes I get so angry
I wish I could morph into a werewolf.

Sometimes I wish I could morph into a werewolf
just to see who would stick around.

Fourteenth

I find I'm attracted to a certain type of person. A specific way of communication.
I find my love life is in a sort of loop. Where I just find myself in the same situations, over and over.
I've grown, they've changed.
But I find there's nothing essentially different about any of it.
I find I'm attracted to the same person.
Over.
and over
and over
and over.
I should really start learning from my mistakes.

Thirteenth

One of these days.
One of these days.
Someone will find my online games high scores irresistible.
I hope.

Twelfth

It's not that I'm a dramatic person
or that I dramatize situations.
I just take things more seriously than people think I do.
Things just affect me more seriously than people think they do.
I just have priorities that the world keeps attacking.

Eleventh

I can't stand thinking about it sometimes.
It's cold.
It's so cold.

All the time.

Tenth

I'm the kind of person who supports Harry and Hermione. Because that relationship? Is based on trust and respect.

Sue me. I think relationships should be based on trust and respect.

Ninth

I find my happiness level depends not on
what I want but don't have
or
what I have but don't want
or even
what I need but don't have.

But rather what and how much of myself I have to offer others.
I haven't much.
I think it shows.

Eighth

I like hiding behind headphones.
They're protective and warm and they surround me with music.
They make me feel badass.
I don't feel badass.
But headphones make me feel badass.

Seventh

I. need. music.
I'm the kind of person who has thoughts. Okay?
Not the thoughts that go on and on about your family, and your friends, and your schoolwork, and your hair, and your personality, and your projects, and your hopes, and your future, and global warming.
I have all those.
And I have other thoughts, too. Thoughts that spin completely out of control. Thoughts that, in the right lighting, in the right moments, with the wrong people, can literally drive me insane. And I know these people. These people who are absolutely everywhere. And I can't leave this city, and I can't leave these schools, and everybody knows me, and I can't not be this person they need me to be, sometimes.
I need music. I need it to stop it. Need it to stop it all. Just for a second.
Just for a moment's peace.

I'd drive myself insane
and end up jumping into a river
if I lost my hearing ability.

Sixth

Sometimes I don't really know what else to type but angst. I really don't consider myself an angsty person. Just unhappy and frustrated. Very frustrated.
But generally very caring.
I guess I just haven't had many spare moments to show it.
Mostly I guess I feel exhausted by it all. Exhausted by the optimism. I don't know why.
It exhausts me. Loving exhausts me. It feels so much more draining than hating.
In a strange way.
I'm unhappy being unhappy. I'm happy when I'm happy.
But blogging is different. I'm unhappy when it's a bad post. I'm happy when it's good.
And there's something so truthful about unhappiness that makes a post good.
I'm addicted to truth.
Pessimistic Optimistic Happy Sad
I'm addicted to truth.

Fifth

I'm the kind of person who wants the do-gooder to die first in a movie. They're so positive, I don't believe in them. It takes away from the realism of the film as a whole, really.

Fourth

I'm not the kind of person to sit at the front of the bus.
I tend to be that student who drags her feet to the end of it, slouching against an empty schoolbag, singing Blackbird and drawing pictures of broken hearts and swiggly smiles on the condensated window.

Third

I'm the kind of person who would put Britney on the spaceship before Obama if we have to evacuate the planet.
I just think...
People are politicians. We all lie and have charisma at the right times.
But we need more people in the world with the ability to bounce back.

Second

I don't know who you are.

But I think
I'm so romantic
that I am incomplete without you.

Without you, I'm not whole.
I'm not happy.
I'm not warm.
And I'm not real.

I think you make my life real.
I just haven't met you yet.

First

I write.
It's what I do.
It's what I am.
It's one of the few things in life I'm decent at.
I write about life.
The thing about life is; it's sweet and it sucks. Life is sweet and it sucks. Life doesn't make sense.
Life isn't fair.
Life is stupid.
Life is full of ugliness.
Life is so very, very unfortunate. Life is full of disappointment.
And life is full of those beautiful, beautiful people.
Those people who make life worth it.