Saturday, February 10, 2007
♥ Saturday, February 10, 2007
I am having mixed feelings right now. I'm going to blog longg.
On one side I want to be hyper and babble on about how I've been and life so far, as a sucky sec 2. On the other I need to be melancholic about my bucket, because I can say that I am quite pissed with her. Plus the fact that Chocolate's fourth string broke again. Nothing good happens whenever she breaks.
Right now I'm getting this whole shiver down my body, the way it does when I'm going to cry. I don't know why, either. It seems like that everytime I think about these problems I start to feel like crying. I don't understand why bucket won't talk to me like she did merely a week ago. I don't understand why you have to go and make it worse, because I know we might finish this soon. I don't understand why I'm not complaining about life, and all that, now. I don't understand why Chocolate's fourth string broke.
Maybe it's because of the sudden prolonged outside temperature of the classroom, which was airconed and made my strings shrink and then the pressure was too great on the knobs and so my string broke. I know factual stuff like that. But it doesn't give me the sense of accomplishment that I need to have. Knowing factual stuff doesn't mean I know the stuff that I need to know.
Blogging gets me thinking. Bucket, if you are reading this; Is it because of my post, about you being my bucket, and how I don't want to hurt you - so you're trying to shrink yourself as my bucket, btu it doesn't work that way. Be it my best friend, or not; be it talking to me, or not; you'll always be my bucket.
I just realised that is a possibiity. But bucket, stop doing this. I'm getting pissed. Not at you, at him. One day I'm going to have leukemia, and by that time it'd be too late to love me.
And you. You have to make things worse. I called you just now. You picked up the phone, said hello four times, and hung up, the way you'd hung up on me a thousand times before, you thought hanging up on me another time wouldn't make any difference. But it did. I know I can't blame you; you don't know it was me. But only if you had listened a little closer, said hello a little longer; you would have known that it was the person who risked her self for you. She changed partly because of you. If you had listened a little closer, you would have heard my aircon blow, my clock ticking away noisily, like I'd told you it did. You would have known if you paid attention. But you didn't. DIdn't know and neither paid attention to things like that.
Bloody hell. I don't feel like blogging anymore.
