posted by loreal @ 8:33 PM  0 Comments

I probably have.
posted by loreal @ 7:40 PM  0 Comments

Him: You there?

Me: ..yea I'm here

Him: K k

Wtf? Damn. Damn. I don't even know what this is anymore. He doesn't even care.
posted by loreal @ 7:33 PM  0 Comments

You know the hardest part about being in a relationship? Especially a long distance relationship? No it's not the fact that I can't touch him or kiss him, hard as that shit really is. It's knowing, just being 100% sure that you care more about him than he does about you. That shit is so fucking painful. I'm pissed. He was supposed to call me this morning and we were supposed to talk for a really long time, at least an hour. HE FELL ASLEEP AT HIS FRIEND'S HOUSE BTW. And not even 10 minutes go by and he's like 'babe, I'm gonna go back to sleep, I'm really tired'. LIKE WTF? I AM PISSED. 10 FUCKING MINUTES!? YOU SHOULD HAVE WENT HOME LAST NIGHT. Ugh. And he doesn't read my blog. Only when I remind him that this actually exists, only then does he show any kind of interest in reading it and even then, he just reads one post. Yet he's on the internet quite often. He doesn't even know about my weight loss blog cause he never asks me questions about anything. On the other hand, I've pretty much read his entire blog, because, unlike him, I give a shit about what he has to say. I've watched just about all of his videos on youtube, I listen to his cute little songs, and I try to keep up on what he does with his creativity. I always ask him questions about his life. I wrote him a letter in 2 days that is three pages, front and back, long, PLUS, I have small hand writing so it's A LOT. He still isn't finished with mine. Because he's 'busy'. He's always busy. Hanging out with friends or just reading up the news. I mean he has a life, I don't blame him. I shouldn't be mad. But I am. I don't know. I feel like a pile of shit. I hate knowing I care about this relationship more than he does. I spend so much of my day thinking about him. And I don't think he senses when I'm mad, like I won't text him for hours at a time, and I feel like shit when I do that, but I want him to understand that I'm fucking pissed off. What's worse is he knows the type of person I am. He knows that I constantly need attention. I'm not quite sure if he cares anymore. I mean he says he does. I just don't feel like he does. I'm not gonna talk to him anymore today. I'm just gonna study chemistry, hope he texts me, but I won't respond to any of them. Not until he catches on that I'm pissed.

I could just tell him how I'm feeling. 'Cause he is my boyfriend and I need to communicate with my boyfriend. But the thing is, I've already told him that I feel like I care more about him than he does about me. I mean I didn't elaborate cause I wasn't thinking then, I was just pissed. I still am so if I tell him, I'll just sound like an idiot. And I don't want to sound like a naggy bitch.

I feel hurt. It's not supposed to be like this. I feel like this is falling apart.
posted by loreal @ 12:29 PM  0 Comments

There is something wrong with me. Something so terribly wrong.
posted by loreal @ 6:48 PM  0 Comments

I've always had problems with my body and the way I looked. I think it's because I started puberty when I was really young and sex appeal became important very quickly. I always thought I was fat, flabby, and ugly. Even as I got older and my weight began to even out with my height, I still felt overweight. I thought I was unattractive as well and even thought I looked like a boy for a huge part of my life.

Now I'm just confused. There are days when I feel hideous and fat and just ugh and there are days when I feel like I've never looked more beautiful. In this journey to be healthy, I'm in a place where I'm not fat but I'm not slim. My body looks good. I'm okay with it. I tolerate it. And technically, at 165, I am healthy. But then there is the cellulite and I look good while standing but then I bend over and my tummy is like rolls galore. And I have stretch marks. On my hips, on the inside of my thighs. I have scars on my legs. It's all very embarrassing. I'm scared as hell to have my boyfriend touch and feel this body with all it's unattractive bits. I'm afraid that he won't like it.

But I've been thinking lately. My stretch marks are here. I have them. They aren't going away. And I don't mind them that much, really. I mean, if I stare in the mirror, I barely notice them. They are not the big of a deal about them. So if I don't mind them that much, why am I worried about what Jason will think about them? Chances are he won't care all that much either. He won't care about my cellulite or the hundreds of scars all over my body. And I won't care either.

Really it's the fat I'm worried about. I have love handles. Really round, think thighs. A bit of a muffin top. And I'd like a smaller waist. And because Jason is a lot slimmer than I am, I feel like he'll be aware of the extra pounds I need to shed. I started this weight loss journey for myself. To be happy with myself. But I'll be damned if I lose my virginity feeling like a fat ass the entire time. Thus, I will lose the final 20 pounds in time for summer. I have plenty of time, and there is absolutely no reason why I shouldn't be able to do that.

Overall, I like the shape of my body. I do think I have a lovely figure. It's just I think I'll feel a lot better once I'm 20 pounds lighter.
posted by loreal @ 7:05 PM  0 Comments

Whoa. Whoa. Yes, I can't believe it either. But yes, really, there is a boy. His name is Jason. Can I just say that this boy is amazing? I mean he really is everything I want. Really. And he's not an asshole, which is certainly a pleasant change for me.

And guess what? I love him. I thought I'd be old and wrinkly before I could ever say those words and mean them, but yes, I am in love with him. And surprisingly (I really have a hard time believing this), he loves me as well. I just wish he knew more about me so I can know that he really means it. For instance, I'm pretty sure if he reads this blog in its entirety, he won't feel the same way. I mean I want to tell him everything, really. I'm just not sure if he wants to know everything and I don't know how to go about bringing things up. Especially the bad things, 'cause there are a lot of bad things.

He's 23 years old and I don't give a fuck. I don't even notice it to be frank. He's somewhere around 6'1-6'2 which is absolutely perfect, I think. He has semi longish hair and he really is the cutest thing in the world. His smile is to die for and he has the most beautiful eyes. I know there is no such thing as perfect but this boy is perfect to me. He's talented, obviously extremely intelligence (which is like my ultimate weakness - intelligence = huge turn on), he's thoughtful, he's passionate, UGH I CAN GO ON AND ON. Remember all those things I said I wanted in a man? It's too good to be true, but he lives up to everything I listed. What's more is he actually gives a damn about me and the person I am. He wants me to be comfortable with him. I'm scared to do this of course because I fear he'll find something about me that's annoying. He's the perfect balance. He wants to know me but he's also sexually attracted to me and makes that very clear which is exactly what I need. I know that he's not just some guy who's telling me things I want to hear just so he can 'get in my pants'. It's so incredibly amazing that I can be myself around him, completely and totally. We have actual conversations, discussions which is all I ever wanted. I want a man who can think and boy does he think. He makes me feel comfortable. Not only that, he's so very patient. OH MY GAH THIS IS MAKING ME TEAR UP lol. He totally gets what I'm going through. When I told him about my hearing disability he was so understanding, it just blew me away. When we talk on the phone, he doesn't get annoyed when I incessantly ask him to repeat what he said. And we talk for a long time. I've never been on the phone longer than 40 minutes with anyone, ANYONE. We just have so much in common as well. Guys he is just perfect, I don't care what anyone says.

This is it guys. This is my man. I hope I don't fuck this up, because I want him in my life for a very very very long time. Perhaps I even see baby Jasons and Loreals in the future (OK SHUT UP LOREAL YOU'LL FREAK HIM OUT).

I think I'm being too much already. I tell him I miss him all the time and I practically beg for chat time. I probably say I love you too often. I probably text to much and sometimes I'm just plain silly. I wonder if I annoy him when I tell him what's wrong with me. I wonder if I'll burden him if I tell him the 'bad' bits about me. I fear I'm being a bit clingy as well.

I hope this lasts though. I really want this to last. I already plan to see him in late June. I'm gonna stay in his town for a week (maybe longer?) and I think we're sort of gonna live together lol. But I'm really looking forward to it. I'm pretty sure it'll be the best week of my life.

I want him to read this, not gonna lie. But at the same time I don't want him too Song time. Shut up, I like Dean Martin. Me = Hopeless Romantic.

Labels: love

posted by loreal @ 12:36 PM  0 Comments

No, I'm not gonna sit here and deny or take back what I said last night (or this morning?). I will say that things were a bit exaggerated. Definitely an overflow of emotions going on there. I think I could call it a bit of relapse... *cough* So yeaaa... It's true to an extent. The whole Barium Nitrate thing did happen. Most things in the post did happen. But try not to think less of me because of that post. I'm really not as bad as I made myself sound in person. I don't usually cry and complain all the time. But it's just something I had to get out, and there it is, but try not to be too startled by it.

I'll just post a song I'm listening to now. Yes, I do love the Beatles :D

posted by loreal @ 9:30 PM  0 Comments

I don't care. I don't care if late night thinking causes me to think up all the reasons I get to be miserable. I don't care that I am emotional. I am human. And I need an outlet. I'm much to weak to hold it all in like the strong people of the world do.

Do you know what this blog is? No, it's not some kind of journal. When I was young and stupid, I used to cut... Not because I was 'emo' or whatever the fuck you want to call it. But because it really was a method of getting rid of emotional pain by way of physical pain. Every time I sliced my skin open, it was as if all my woes bled out of my skin and, for the moment, all was well. That what this blog is. I'm bleeding out all of my raw, senseless emotion. When I write, for that moment everything is ok because I was able to release some of it. But it's still there and it lingers like some kind of demon clutching my neck. But this blog, this blog is everything I feel, everything I think, everything I am is in this blog. It helps.

I can say whatever the fuck I want to say here because this is my place. This is my place where judgement does not exist. I can be who I am and not worry what other people are thinking about me. I don't think there is a human being I can treat as such. Who would want to? Who would want to lug my load of shit with me? Why should I put someone through that. I'm just a pussy anyway. When it comes down to it, my life has been heaven and high water (...) compared to the lives of others who have it much worse than I do. And they certainly handle it better than I do. But the things I... I don't deserve to live. I believe that so much that the idea of not waking up tomorrow is rather appealing. I remember in AP Chemistry when I was doing a lab with Barium Nitrate. Do you know what this is? Even now the substance sounds so lovely. But do you know what it is? It's a fatal chemical. A drop on the tip of your tongue could kill you. Why does that sound so beautiful to me? And I was staring at it, I really was because I wanted to try it so badly. I stood there, and I was reading the words over and over and over again. Barium Nitrate. Barium Nitrate. I remember it so clearly. It was looking so pretty in that massive beaker and I thought, all I have to do is walk over there and touch it. My teacher said the effects would be instant. All I had to do was just touch it and put my finger to my tongue and that would be it. So what if everyone in that classroom would have witnessed it. I would be too dead to care. I wanted to so badly, you really have no idea. But I didn't. I think about dying too much, too often. And every time I do, I tell him that he is welcome. You take my life, you do it, because I want you to. I really am frightened that I may commit suicide. I'm just... I can't live with who I am, I'm so sick. I'm so horrible.

You know why I write here? Being that this is all public? Do you know why I sometimes fake reluctance when people ask for the link to my blog? Do you know why I even give the link to people sometimes? Because I want them to see. I want someone to see. I want someone to give a damn. I want someone to miss me when I'm gone. I want someone to care so bad. Can't anybody see that I'm crying out for someone? Can't anybody hear me. Does anyone even care? I feel like I'm screaming into the darkness but there is no one there but myself and my demons. I am selfish. I am selfish. Selfish. I should not be alive, I should not. Why was I created? I can't even relate to anyone in my family, none of them know me, I am so different from any of them. No one gives a fuck. No one asks questions and I want them to ask so badly even though I know I'll lie. They'll ask me what's the worst thing that's ever happened to me and I lie. They ask me if I'm doing alright and I lie. I gave the link to my blog to 4 people. Maybe some of them read one post. But they won't come back because they know I'm insane and they don't give a fuck. They don't give a damn about my teenage angst because that's all it is: teenage angst, right? I'll get over it. RIGHT!? They won't read it though I want them to so bad.

You know what this blog is? It makes up for the lies I tell. People always ask me, how are you doing? How are you? What are you up to? And I'll lie and say I'm fine and I smile and I make up some shit because I don't want them to know that I'm planning my death or my funeral. That I still want to starve. That... I can't say it, I can't. But I smile and I say all is well when really I'm screaming, begging for your attention, begging you to see, really look! I'm begging you to stay, I'm begging you to dig deeper, I'm begging you to pull me out. But you look at me and you say, well that's good to here, I'm doing just fine as well. And you know what? You could be lying to. Why do we hide? Why?

DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS BLOG IS? It's my failing attempt to fix this. This? This hope for death, this bundle of pain, really. I try to be happy. Sometimes, I almost am. But people are cruel and so am I. So happiness is always, always short lived. But for now, I am here so I have to try at least and so I do try. But I still feel like I will be happy in life or I will die early on. The latter seems to be winning. No one will ever know this. No one will ever know the things I've done and the things I've been through, neither will anyone care. I will die clutching my secrets to my heart.

This is one of the very first songs I listened to when I 'converted' to the alternative/rock genre. I was going through something and this helped. It still helps.

posted by loreal @ 1:45 AM  0 Comments

I feel like I was cheated out of one. It's like everyone I know is more capable than I am. But I am wrong. I was not cheated out of anything. I cheat myself. I can read, can't I? I can write. I've got at least 50 textbooks in my house covering numorous subjects, from literature to environmental science, so why haven't I taken advantage of that? It's my own fault, really. That still doesn't excuse the fact that America has a shit education system.

There is a movie I've heard about, I think it's called Waiting for Superman, that lays out just how shitty our education system is. How the hell is it that we spend 2-3 times more on one child's education than most developed countries do, yet we are far from being the most intelligent? That makes no sense to me. We get shit teachers that a pissed because they aren't paid enough or whatever crappy reason they have. We have teachers who like to beat down your self esteem, thus creating less than adequate students. We're taught material in 4th grade we should have learned in 2nd grade because many people think we can't handle a quicker paced classroom. Basically, we're taught very young that we just aren't capable of doing some things. My 3rd grade teacher is a prime example of this. She was a bitch, to put it nicely. I think I was about 8? years old and I had serious problems with my hearing loss when it came to academics. I wasn't stupid. I could read just fine and caught on the most concepts rather quickly. I just always would miss important details and thus my grades were in the C, D, F range. My parents had no problem with this, so neither did I. I think this is kind of like my parents telling me, 'we understand, it's ok that you're stupid'. Anyway, back to my third grade teacher... Ms. Selph was her name. I liked her at first. She was really pretty and nice. But then when it was established that my hearing problem would affect the way she taught, she sort of had a bitch fit. She would have to start carrying around an FM system, which was a big chunky thing that hung around her neck that had a microphone, so whenever she spoke, I could hear her as if she were talking right into my ear. It really helped me, even though I had to have chunky attachments to the end of my hearing aids for a bit. Ms. Selph hated me for it. She would yell at me for the dumbest things in the world. She yelled at me 'for yawning too loud' (wtf?). I remember this one bit fairly well because this moment kind of altered how I felt about my self worth. This boy in my class, Brad Ross, had read and gotten a perfect score on the AR test on a book called Peter Pan. She made a big deal about it too, telling the whole class and giving him an award. I was a bit jealous of course. Because Ms. Selph had told us we couldn't check out books that weren't on our grade level (I think Peter Pan was like.. 4th grade?) and I wondered, well how did he get to read that book if we can't even check those out? I wanna read it too! So I went to the library and checked out Peter Pan all happy that I might be able to get a perfect score on it as well, and impress Ms. Selph, even. I walked back to class with pride, book in hand. I sat at my desk and opened up the first page, soaking up the words with such intensity. It hadn't been 2 minutes and Ms. Selph was peering over my shoulder and she immediately pitched a fit when she saw what I was reading. 'I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO CHECK OUT BOOKS THAT AREN'T IN YOUR GRADE LEVEL!' 'But but... you let Brad read it!' 'I don't care, you take that book back right now!' She might as well have told me I'm not smart enough to read Peter Pan. So I gathered my beloved book, fighting tears, and returned the book back to the library. She'd made a scene about it so of course everyone was looking at me and I was extremely embarrassed. She always hated me, I believe. She even had a sit down with the principal AND my parents to tell them all that I rolled my eyes at her whenever I got back a paper with a bad mark on it. :| Let me just say that I was never a child with an attitude. I was wayyy too nice for that so obviously she was lying. And what's horrible is there are many many teachers out there that are just like Ms. Selph, if not worse.

I genuinely feel that with every new generation, we get dumber and dumber (see what I mean I couldn't even think of a better way to say that). I think that back in the 50s, 60s, they taught more in the schools then than they do now. I find Little Women a more than easy read and I'm in the 12th grade whereas my AP Language teacher said she'd read that in 3rd grade, no problem. Not only that, on a worldwide scale, Americans are rather stupid. Asian kids know math concepts in 8th grade that we don't learn till, in some cases, college. UK, France, and other European students may very well be fluent in 2 languages while most graduate college in America only knowing the basics of a second language. On the SAT, I didn't know 3/4 of the math concepts, most of which I learned when I was in 6th or 7th grade but couldn't remember.

Also, education levels vary. If you live in the ghetto where students in schools are more likely to join gangs than to graduate, fact is, the education you get at that school is probably shit. Whereas students from a higher class are bound to get better educations than 80% of the entire country. Is this fair? Is this any better than when we sent black kids to shit log cabin schools whereas while kids went to huge brick walled schools? Whereas we somewhat have equality in race in education, we still suffer from inequality of social class. We need to create an equilibrium in education where everyone can learn the same things at the same pace and more efficiently.

I could even talk about separating the 'dumb' students from the 'gifted' students with 'general' classes or 'honor' classes. Is this fair? I mean I can see how it makes sense to separate students in this way but is it right? Does it further lower the self esteem of the 'general' students and make them feel as though they'll never be good enough for higher education?

So what I'm saying is, America needs a complete reform in the education system. I don't know what we can do, but it certainly needs to be something better than this. We need to develop a way to spend less on the education system and at the same time change the way we teach students in a way that will be more effective and produce better results.

DON'T ASK ME WHY BUT I THOUGHT OF FREEDOM WRITERS AND THIS SONG WHEN I FINISHED THIS POST SO SHUT UP...

Labels: education, equality

posted by loreal @ 9:35 AM  0 Comments