Big fat chuck-out.

Gone back and deleted about 90% of diary entries from back when I was a young and silly person, keeping a select few that amused me. I hate reading back about what I was like at that age. I hate thinking about that age in general; I started my OD at a ridiculous point in my life when not very nice things were happening. I can remember them fine without poorly written entries noted by a naive 15-16 year old wittering on about excruciating past crushes, fickle friendships and other matters of precious little consequence.

I’m not fond of the person I was back then. Nothing wrong with the old me, per se, I mean I’ve always found bitchiness pointless and terrible and have always tried to be nice to people (not that I’ve always succeded in avoiding it; far from it) I just believe if I met myself I’d find myself naive, far too loud in over-compensation for crippling shyness, and generally irritating to a terminal degree. Part of the reason I find those years so abhorrent is mainly because of the way my behaviour was influenced by my friends, which they always are at such an age, I’m aware, and I believe always will be as I’m that way inclined; I tend to over-flex to accommodate people as part of an everlasting quest for common ground, as it’s easier than selfishly asserting myself towards what I like – both a curse and a blessing. For example, I don’t believe I’d have ever been quite so vocal about matters involving boys I liked, I’m generally quite secretive about such things and I don’t remember ever feeling truly comfortable about broadcasting it all on the internet for all the people I know to see. Sure, it was a big deal, but I wouldn’t have liked the idea of people hearing all about it, it’s MY business. It was more an exercise in garnering attention from my friends at that point; when you’re that age it’s all that’s important to the majority of people and I’d only really just gotten the hang of actually having friends I could rely on. As a result I’d find myself hopping up and down all over my diary, yelling “OMG GUISE THIS BOY IS SO COOL HAHA LOL!!” and then feeling forever awkward about it because I wouldn’t go about it like that if I had more self-esteem to be myself around them, in a perfectly paradoxical sense; it’s my lack of self-esteem that largely contributes to not wanting to shout about it. I’m not wonderfully certain where it came from, as my family environment never caused me to feel neglected or excluded or demoralised, but something continually makes me shy away from people that like me, or whom I have feelings for at all – at least internally. I tend to not let it get in the way of my day to day life if I can help it. A part of me has forever believed that actually, I’m not worthy of affection – and God, PLEASE don’t let this come out as emo as it sounds to me, I really feel quite matter-of-fact and not-worried by this – that Joe Bloggs, on finding out I’m attracted to him, might be repulsed by the very idea of Bex liking him, that the unattractive, loud, and unaware-of-her-own-shortcomings Bex would like – no, expects him to feel the same way. How very above her station! Love and affection wasn’t designed for undesireable people. It’s reserved only for those perfect of body and occasionally soul. I’m too unattractive, and certainly too irritating, to ever be happy with someone.
I know it’s a very unhealthy state of mind and certainly not one I actually believe consciously, because it’s bullshit. I’m told I’m not exactly the most hideous creature on two legs and I’d like to believe them, and I know that even if I were, I’m still entirely worthy of someone’s time and energy and affection. I know. It’s just subconscious, but it’s there and it makes itself known every so often during the low months. It’s something I’m working on. But thinking about it, it’s a good explanation as to why I find it so inherently difficult to initiate anything with anyone that even sniffs of becoming something like a display of love of any variety, but like I said, I’m working on it. Heh, that was a bit roundabout. Anyway, back to the point; I shouted about guys because it then became a level on which to connect to people, as opposed to it actually being something I wanted to draw attention to. I’m not big on making myself the spotlighted one in a party. But you do what you have in order to not feel left out, I guess, and I despise feeling like that more than maybe anything else in the world. It’s what many of my dislikes boil down to in the end, I think.

We’re out of Morrisons’ apple juice. 🙁 This is a saddening prospect. From concentrate it might have been, but it was much sweeter than the ASDA stuff, which is pretty tart. Morrisons do better bread than ASDA, too. I’m noticing a trend here. Morrisons is the way forward. Although I’ve never had Tesco bread or Tesco apple juice, so that needs investigating.

Macca has a habit of attracting furries on Second Life. He likes to hang out with them in nightclubs.

Mmm. Why did I stop writing in here? It’s nice to just write. It’s far preferable writing in here than an IRL diary, certainly, which would just strike me as not only boring – nothing against it, let the reader understand, just not for me – but devoid of impartial advice and support if something got sticky, which I suppose is the appeal of this place. Thinking about it, I think I just got sick of exposing myself to people I knew in real life. Only a couple of people come on here whom I know IRL, and those are the ones I generally tell all about such things anyway; them reading matters not a jot. But it’s nice being able to shoot steam onto the internet and get responses back from impartial minds that don’t respond because they have to, but because they want to, which is another bit of insecurity for you. I don’t really like bothering my IRL friends with such things; I don’t much enjoy feeling like an attention seeker and pulling their eyes off of what they’d rather be doing, especially – but not limited to – while they have exams and other daft necessities occuring.

….Not that every entry on here is going to be a plea for help or anything. It’s a diary. A big vent-hole for whatever’s sitting in my head. It just has the added advantage of possible advice and support in unsavoury situations from people it doesn’t necessarily involve – not that I expect it. It’s a diary.

The writing alone is theraputic. I’m not really venting anything in particular but the act of typing a long chain of thought is soothing. I really missed this.

The only downside is the worry that I might come across as pretentious or attention-seeking in general. But if it gets to the point where I fear writing about a certain subject might look like I’m trying to get attention, or if I start being a keyboard warrior, it’s not really a problem. That’s what private entries are for.

A long, truthful, unworried-about-outside-opinion vent is a healthy vent.

I have a driving lesson tomorrow. This will be my….sixth? Dean, my instructor, wants me to book my theory, which is a marvellous milestone to hit in my eyes. It says nothing about my driving but makes me feel good, as you can’t pass the practical without the theory, and to have him poke me towards the act of the theory test kinda says something like “Hey! I have a feeling you’re not so completely ass-useless as to forever be unprepared for the practical! Book this thinking test now plx.” Which is relatively win, I’d say. Nothing like a little confidence boost.

I can’t WAIT to pass my test and drive my car <3

ASDA apple juice is really, really starkly tart in comparison to Morrisons. :/ Needs water methinks. More refreshing.

This has had the same effect on me as a big read before bedtime. It’s 2am. I’m going to turn off, read a few pages of the Warcraft trilogy “War of the Ancients” (rereading the trilogy, I’m on Book Two again. It details the first coming of the Burning Legion summoned by the Highborne Elves, for those who understand/care) and piss off to bed before driving. Then I’ll take the dogs for a big explore around the fields down by the park. Andy has a Music Tech exam tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll be fantastic. I miss college horribly but I DON’T miss exams.

Bed time, or I’ll hit something and there’ll be hell to pay. 🙂 NIGHT GUISE.