Okay, so I haven't blogged in a while and I know the negative 6 people who read this are furious. I don't actually have a lot to say, I just have this urge to type and complain and rant to no one. I was complaining to my wonderful, beautiful Kyle, feeling bad the whole time, but he left. I'm sure I could have gone on to him for at least another hour. I don't think that's a good thing.
Is it sad that I'm supremely jealous of all the people who get followers and friends on things like this? I like being followed. I like subscribers and comments. It makes me feel like I'm not the unnoticed little person from high school who got stepped on by everyone. Lee, for example is just.. He's got these amazing blogs that he styles and edits and uses good sentence structure. He has followers falling out of his ears, because he's beautiful, on DailyBooth. 17 comments on one picture, on a bad day. I get 4 on a good day. I find myself comparing myself to other people and feeling envious of them for the saddest things. I want to feel noticed, I suppose.
Lost in a sea of faces.
I took an Enlgish Comprehension test to get into a Dental Office Receptionist Certificate Program in University and I needed 48% to get in and I only got 45%. This is disgusting to me, because other than band and choir, English was the only thing I got A's in all the time. Now I have to take an English refresher course, pay $15 bucks, take the CPT again and pray that I'm not just seriously stupid. It was SUCH an easy test too. Circle the one mistake in the sentence [x20]. Write an essay on why University may seem stressful. [I put in 50 extra words, the lady said the cap would be an extra 100.] We were given 3 hours to complete, and just to be sure, I took 2 1/2 hours, 45 minutes to check over everything, and I still FAILED. I'm furious at myself because I couldn't pass this test.
My Mum: Diabetic for +30 years, suffered multiple heart attacks, has a stent in her heart, has four wounds on one foot for more than five months, all of them infected and threatened with amputation, smoked for +40 years [now smoke free a month and a half]
My Dad: Diabetic for +30 years, had quadrupal by-pass surgery, had surgery on both knees [still hasn't healed] 3 years ago, had surgery on both shoulders [still hasn't healed] 2 years ago, smoked +30 years, drank heavily +10 years [smoke free 15 years, drink free 18 years].
My parents: High blood pressure, general health issues, high stress levels at home, overt anger, chronic back problems. They both have to inject themselves with insulin 3 times a day using either a pen [it's just a plastic holder for the insulin that you place a needle on the end of] and a syringe.
For some reason, I still have the nerve to be mad at them because I do dishes, laundry, cleaning, shopping and push my mum around in wheelchairs.
I don't understand why I'm mad at them all the time. I have no right to be, as they have to go through much more than I do on a regular basis, but I just can't take this house anymore. I'm tired of people yelling at me and having to deal with all of these things. I feel ill at the sight of needles and yet my parents use them every day. I dress my mum's wounds, and I clean them and I feel sick with that as well. I don't do well with blood, wounds and cuts at all and she has giant holes on her foot.
I'm trapped. I pay rent, $240 a month to live at home. If I didn't pay rent to live here, I could probably manage to save up enough to take my university courses and move out, make more money and take my main goal course and be happy. Maybe travel. Go out on a Saturday night for once.
I went out with my friends on Wednesday night and we all drank. I came home and was told I'm a disgrace to the family because I drink. I haven't seen my friends since. Come to think of it I haven't even talked to them since that night.
I've never really been my age. I've always been very mature for my age, and my mum actually told me one day that she normally forgets that I'm 19. I was 5 years old and getting on better with adults than with my classmates. I was called the teachers pet until grade ten, because I could have conversations with teachers and parents and feel comfortable. I only act my age once in a blue moon, but when I do I'm told terrible things about myself. I just wish I could get out of here.
'I have a dream...'
I want to be a singer. I'm not very good at singing, but I still want to be one; that's all I've wanted since I was 3. My secondary dream is a writer. I love writing stories about random people I come up with, and they have these sad stories, and some of them make it out better off, others...not so much. Third dream? Special effects make up artist/set designer. n_n I also wouldn't mind being a music therapist. Out there, I know.
I'm going to see Marianas Trench on November 9th. I'm super excited about it. I've recently re-ignited my adoration for The Academy Is... ; William Beckett is a sexy beast [and only 5 years older than me]. He will be mine [yeah right]. <3
I think I might start a second blog, one that I update once a week with music, movie, book and game reviews. Not always new things, but just things that interest me. I'll take requests to read/watch/listen/play things and than give my opinion. I could also do video things for that on youtube, but I don't think so. I'm not very good at making videos as it is. We'll see.
If I EVER get comments on here, someone tell me what you think of my idea! Maybe I'll finally act on it.
As I've said in the past, my blogs are not just for myself; they're for anyone who's like me and feels alone. I read stuff like this and feel better because I know that I'm not the only one who feels these ways.
I adore anyone who reads these. Please, comment/follow/check out my other pages. ;)
Much love. <3
S*
