shadows on the hills

I haven't been at school this week.
Partly because I was sick with the flu, partly because I was physically incapable of leaving my room for two days. I would just start shaking all over and feel dizzy. So I stayed in my room, sitting on my bed, thinking about what a failure I am. It would die down in the evening and I'd go and drink some tap water, but that's it. I wasn't able to do anything.

I feel like I'm disappointing a lot of people with the whole repetition thing. Mostly my parents, particularly my father. And I'm ashamed of it. I have proven to be a failure and the way he talks to me now, the phrases and formulations and the tone of his voice - all of it is just dripping with disappointment and reproach. I don't really blame him for it. I could have done better. But I didn't. And I can't help thinking that I am a failure every time I set eyes on my current class, my old classmates, the school building, the teachers...
The thing is, I don't want to be a failure. I want to show that despite this incident, I am able to achieve something in life. That I'm not a good-for-nothing. Because, frankly, if I've come this far, I can go further.

But you see, here's the snag: I am sick and tired of everything. I just want to go to sleep and never wake up again. Or just disappear. Just like that; vanish into thin air. Poof - and I am no more. I bet that would disappoint even more people. Whatever I do, it's disappointing. So wouldn't it be better if I stopped doing anything at all?

/P.

superman isn't real

Empty.
Synonyms: void, hollow, drained.

Need.
Synonyms: want, require, lack.

Affection.
Synonyms: love, fondness, warmth.

roses in winter

Every human soul is like a living porcelain doll.
Now, before anyone starts discussing whether we have a soul or not, let me clarify: to me, the source of our emotions and thoughts, the thing that makes us unique and individual - basically the roots of our character, so to speak - is our soul. Others may call it heart or head, but it's all just a figure of speech since we don't exactly know how it works. So I just choose to speak of a soul.

Every human soul is like a living porcelain doll.
We are fragile. No matter how strong we may appear on the outside, no matter how hard we try to stay upright and show that we're apparently unaffected, we are as fragile as a crystal droplet falling to the ground.
Sometimes, when we fall, we can stand up again almost immediately. It seems that we're not hurt at all. It feels like it, too. That's because the cracks are too small to notice. Then, after falling repeatedly, the cracks get larger, then pieces start breaking off, until we lie there, shattered, unable to get up anymore.
There are people who have shattered souls for most of their life. They're the ones that show no emotion whatsoever. Some of them have no souls to start with. That's makes them so strong. Because no matter how many times they fall, there's nothing there to break.
But there's also those who are ready to help and collect all the shards and glue them back together bit by bit. They help you get on your feet again. They give you warmth and hope. And though you can see the places where the shard were put together again, they only serve as proof that you were able to stand up, and that you have other souls that care for you.
Those that have no porcelain doll inside them can't ever experience that. And that's what makes them so inferior; despite their strength and persistence, their lives are lonely and meaningless.

Every human soul is like a living porcelain doll.
Play with it too roughly, and it breaks.
Don't risk hurting people. It's not like you'd like to experience that kind of pain yourself, right?

/P.

sorry for being cheesy before

I can't believe I have to go to school again tomorrow. It's like I can't even stop to catch my breath because life rushes on without waiting for me and then I have to sprint to catch up. And so we rush on - life up ahead, me barely holding up the pace and my energy lagging behind.
Everything seems to be going so fast these days.

/P.

my favourite kind of 13

We won.
Lots of kisses then.

I'm starting to think that it actually wouldn't be bad to have him by my side for the rest of my life. He loves me, he'd do anything for me... and I keep catching myself smiling when I think of him. I care for him a lot.
I can't say wether it's true love. Right now it's probably more a kind of mixture of love, dependency and egocentrism.
But I want to see him happy and I want to be a part of that happiness. I want to share the best moments of my life with him. I want him to be with me and feel his warmth and know that he's there for me.
You know, maybe it's true love after all. But who am I to judge what's true love and what's not? It's alway true - until it's not.
I wish for my love to last this time. Not just my love, but his love. I wish for things to work out. For us to remain 'us'.

/P.

blonde boobs on the train (he's not interested)

Slept over at F's today. The poor thing had to restrain himself because of my 'lady problem'.
Apparently I took over three thirds of the bed but I woke up pressed against the wall so I think it may have been the other way round for some time at least.
It was a weird feeling to wake up next to him. Pleasant, but weird.

We're going to Riehen for a match now - first match I'm gonna watch. If he loses, no more kisses. And if he smokes another cigarette, no more kisses either.
He won't stop if he doesn't have any consequences to fear.

pure heroin(e)

Ambiguous remarks. A specialty in this family, it seems.
Either it's the fear of being branded as 'the one who says bad things about the other one', or it's the wish to manipulate an opinion just enough to plant a thought that's beneficial only to one party. Which is basically the same thing, now that I think of it.
Ah, good old family.

I was sick the last few days, and I'm beginning to think that it's not a cold but my body compensating emotional stress. I happen to fall sick every time the father has had a chat with me (said chat usually consisting of the father presenting a monologue for up to four hours straight). And let's be honest; sometimes, loading too much information and sickening, saddening, upsetting facts into one's child's brain isn't the best parenting method. Especially if it's done for four hours straight.
And then it doesn't matter whether he's right or not, it's just not done.

/P.