Where is he? I haven’t seen him since Sunday afternoon…
He promised to send me an sms Monday night, but there was nothing. I haven’t heard anything at all from him. Nothing. For the past two days!!! Yes, I am freaking out here. What if something happened to him? How the freak will I know? Where on earth is he….f.asfdsdfj

I hope he’s safe. I hope he’s okay. No replies to any of my smses or emails. I am so incredibly worried. And you have no idea how much energy it takes me to dredge up the emotions to be worried. I only hope he’s okay. Whatever else I can deal with. As long as nothing has happened to him.

Damn pms. I’m okay atm, but I was pretty crap on Sunday. Cramps atm, but they’re way better than Sunday. But, of course, you weren’t really interested in any of this, were you? Oh well. Deal.

Maybe he’ll come online soon. I’m not even going to have a bath, just in case he comes online. I’ll bath tomorrow. I have off, so I can study Bio. Argh.

I am just writing down a whole page full of random, scattered thoughts. Welcome to my mind. This is how it works around here. And this is the filtered, censored, slowed down, sorted out version.

I’m eating an apple, atm. Simply because.

Franticness. Franticness. Franticness.

I am missing him desperately. And trying my very best to convince my freaking self-conscious to shut up and leave the self defense switch alone.

I’ll be fine. And he is fine. We’ll talk tonight… *deep breath*

Almost three hundred words already. And I’m typing up nothing but a load of nonsense. Oh joy.

I just adore poetic license. That’s the only reason I write. Well, that and the metaphors and the rythm.

Three hundred and ten. Now.

The chemistry today was the best I’ve writte so far. And, please note, it was not easy. It was not a breeze. I have no guaruntee at all regarding what I’ll get, that was freaking thumb-sucking a lot of the time. (she didn’t teach us the stuff or else she didn’t tell us to study it). But that’s okay, because I actually thought today instead of sitting and fixing the teacher’s spelling mistakes. But I don’t think I’ll do it again all the same. It’s a tad risky. But whatever.

*sighs*

It’s almost Astrid’s birthday. In exactly one week and six days (as she makes sure to remind us).

I miss him.

I found this brilliant poet on Deviant Art. Estallidos. Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. And she replied to one of my comments. Yay. (take a wild guess what type of yay that was. But I really am glad she talked to me. She has this totally different, unique style that I simply adore. She is totally my favourite poet atm). Look up her poem “Terracotta” if you have time. Maybe. If you even exist.

*deep breath*

*sigh*

I wrote this poem for sleeping’s poetry prompt. It’s based on my Belgian friend. She replied to me, btw. And I am so freaking relieved because, last time I talked to her, she was very seriously considering suicide. That really did make my day yesterday. *half-smile* I could post the poem for you if you like.

And Some Day, You’ll Fly

Black-blue tendrils
Of shadow
Steal across your face

Dark eyes
Reflecting
The sky’s endless white lace

In one hand
A cigarette
Deep breath: in, out, in, out

Grey ring
Of unwashed silver
Escapes from your mouth

Lips singing
- always singing -
To some or other song

One foot,
Fluorescent green toenails,
Quietly tapping along

But past the sooty lashes
That frame those mirrored eyes
There aren’t bloodied chains
Or scars or ropes or knives

I can softly slip in
And look through your-colour glasses
I’ll hold you and be with you
Until this cloud-stealing storm passes

Because when I look at you
I see shining blue eyes
Blond wisps teasing in the breeze
Fingertips reaching for the skies

And to me,
You don’t wear black
You wear those lacey clouds
And two glass-slipper wings on your back

**I was planning on using a completely different topic for this poem but, the more I thought about it, the more I couldn’t get this idea out of my mind. I know this beautiful, sweet girl. The two of us are like sisters and, although we have very little contact, it’s like we still understand each other like practically no-one else does. And she used to love clouds so much. And flying. And stars. And I just couldn’t get her out of my mind. So, although this poem is pretty different to the other entries (lol), here it is anyway. Btw, glass-slipper: the perfect fit.**

Directly from what I sent her. Including the little asterixes at the bottom.

I don’t want to pepper him with hundreds of emails. He hates it when I worry and I don’t want to bother him. He’s probably fine and I’m just overreacting. Yes. Probably. *deep breath*

I have written him about ten emails (inside my head) already. I have sent him one. The one with the above poem in it.

Restless. Damn cramps. I hope he’s okay.

Okay, I’m going to go before I write nine hundred words filled with just random thoughts and whining.

899 words. Made it. Bye.

So blessed, I couldn’t take it
So much I gotta give it away
Your love has taught me to live now
Your love is more than enough for me

Beautiful beautiful lyrics. I’ve always loved this song. Thought came up in church today. We weren’t singing it, but I was singing it in my mind. And singing always makes me feel so much better.

Okay. So, tonight at church, we read I Peter 3. The part about the man and the woman and all. And the main point that the pastor was making (well, in that section of the sermon. If sermon is the right word since we were exactly sixteen people and we were sitting in the conference room ) set me thinking. I mean, you don’t just get married to someone because you’re bored or for the sake of doing so. It’s a really serious thing. Especially (if not more) so for the woman. And me, being quite liberalistic, had better think about this. (I repeat) It is a really serious thing. You are doing it because you trust and care for the guy. Incredibly much. And you have to trust this guy so much… you are giving him everything and you are willing to give everything. You have to stop living off two-minute noodles and toast and learn to cook (argh). You have to respect him and what he wants you to do (because he is the master of the house after all. He must respect you as much as you respect him, but he is still the head of the household, you know. And ‘you’ refers to all you non-existent readers). You’ll spend the rest of your life with him, all the parts that makes him incredible as well as the things he might do like leaving the toothpaste open . It’s not something you just do. You give him your all (physically, emotionally, mentally). You make yourself so incredibly vulnerable, so incredibly unsafe and away from anything that protects you. You give him your body, mind, thoughts, dreams, fears, feelings; your life. You are giving him your life to do with as he pleases. Because you love and trust him.
And, as I mentioned, I am a very liberalistic and, at times, feministic person, but somehow, I don’t mind the thought of doing this. I always guessed that I’d marry someone and eventually do all of this stuff, but I tended to skip the thought of this part as far as possible. I tend to scorn the idea of fitting ‘the mold’ and being a good, quiet wife and all. But, right now, I don’t mind this thought. It used to irritate me endlessly when guys referred to woman as ‘theirs.’ But I don’t mind being his. I want to be his.
Yes, this is a weird topic. Especially for a teenager to be thinking. But all you non-existing, regular readers know that I don’t just jump into things, I think about them very seriously in advance and question and analyze everything I do. Everything. But, I was thinking about this last night. And we kinda got on the topic today (me and him sort of). And then church. So that’s why I’m blogging my thoughts.
I’m afraid that I’m still not willing to stay at home barefoot, cook and clean all day, etc. That is not me and I would slowly be killing myself that way. But I will make sacrafices, I will learn to cook, I will change and adapt to what he wants (to a reasonable extent, certainly. I am a practical person and I’m not about to get into/do anything stupid. I’m not here  for anyone to step on me (but he wouldn’t do that ) but I am here to love and be loved. And I love him so much. And I trust him. To take care of me, not to take advantage of how incredibly vulnerable I’ll be making myself and to love me).
Doing what we plan on doing is so incredibly dangerous to me. Makes me so incredibly vulnerable. So incredibly hurtable. But I want to. Because I love him.

I got some inspiration for a poem today. Well, inspiration for one and motivation for another that I’ve been meaning to write for some time now.

Today at church, we went and did our little drama at some or other mall. And, before we went, the congregation prayed for us. And they anointed us. Which was really cool. I don’t recall being anointed before (probably have, but can’t remember). And, weirdly enough, as I was just finishing off, this one man (really sweet guy. He plays drums and whenever the rest of the band is somewhere, he asks me to play keyboard with him so we don’t sing off a cd for praise and worship. I haven’t had the courage to accept though. Not yet) leaned closer to me and whispered randomly “Salwing verbreek alle jeukke.” Which, roughly translated, means that anointing breaks all yokes. Which is just seriously cool, because I’ve been needing that lately. Completely randomly. God works so spontaneously
Now, in this drama, I (the messed up, crazy, depressive, faker) play Jesus. And I’ve been wondering for quite a while now how they would react if they knew half my thoughts. I sometimes hated practice because I felt so fake… they picked me for the role because I’m so quiet and because they see me to be so filled with the love of God. I really don’t feel like that most of the time though. I don’t know why people at church respect my opinions and think that I am wise and know the Lord so well, because I really don’t feel like I do. I try, I mess up and start over again. Try, fall, get up. Try, fall, get up. I don’t know. I know that He is so incredibly real, whether you feel like it or not. I know from bitter experience that you’re not alone, that He’s always there and will never leave you in the fire for too long. But I still mess up so incredibly much.
But anyway… today when I was acting though, it felt like all that didn’t matter (I felt like a hypocrite all through praise and worship. There I was, enjoying God while I had been wanting to cut myself a couple of days back. So incredibly ashamed. And kept wondering what that lady thought. Until I told myself to leave them all alone and just be with God. That worked mostly). I got onto stage and was more real up there than I ever am normally. Apparently I made people cry, because I looked so loving. And, you know… up there I was loving. I could love. I could feel (something good) and I could just radiate love. Somehow, I wonder whether God’s purpose for the play was really for the people who watched or whether it was more for me. Both probably. But, it’s like… like no matter what I did, it doesn’t matter. Because I’m forgiven. Now I just need to forgive myself and get it together again. So here goes:
I forgive myself. For all the stupid things I’ve done, for getting upset, for losing control, for wanting to cut myself, for wanting to give up, for wanting to burn and hurt myself. For enjoying getting hurt, for letting myself get into this mess in the first place. For blocking my emotions and making myself numb, for making wrong decisions. For not being able to think, for not always doing my best, for being tired. For feeling like I’m talking to empty echoes and blank walls. For faking half of my life, for lying to myself for years. For crying myself to sleep, for torturing myself with my own thoughts. For letting myself be a victim (while hating being a victim. I’m impossible to understand). For nearly giving up. For nearly breaking down. For coming this close to not making it. For not being strong, for doing stupid things, for not being able to look at my arms and for feeling like I should be hiding scars that aren’t there. I’m sorry. And now I forgive myself. And I’ma be okay.
And, of course, the love of my life helped so much. He’s always sorting me out and explaining me to myself. And telling me that I’m going to be okay and that I am okay. And making sense of all my nonsense. He’s probably the one that started this whole post.. or the idea of it. And woke me up again. And you know… I don’t know how I’d live without him. I know that I’d live, but I know that I wouldn’t be alive without him. I need him so much. And I love him. And it’s just totally amazing that I can say that I love someone without second-guessing myself. And that is also thanks to him….
I’m so sorry. That this is all I have to give him. All I have to give him is me. All my flaws and faults and fears.  I’m so sorry that he’s always having to go through trouble for me. Climbing my walls, sorting out my life, trying to rub some feeling back into me. Pulling me out of my slumps and emotionlessness.
And all I have to give him is myself. Even if I give him my everything, it’s still just me. I’m so sorry.

I dont even know whether or not to publish this post. This is so incredibly personal (yes, incredibly is my word for the day)…. Maybe I should cut some bits… on the other hand, no-one reads this so whatever.

I’m missing him. And needing him here with me. And to be with him. And just be with him.

My birthday on the 15th. *smiles* That’s in *counts* two day’s time. *grins* Yes, I still do basic arithmetic on my fingers sometimes. Go ahead and laugh .

I couldn’t get my mind off him all day long. Even while I was writing. While I was studying. While I was just moping around, waiting for him to come online. But he isn’t here, so I guess he’s busy or something. *shrugs a little*

So tomorrow I’ma study area and volume (Argh, those things bore me out of my mind. I better just check the formulas so I know what I’m doing where they are concerned. And know how to do that weird little thing she was doing on the board..hm…), revise some more trig and do the exemplar. Tonight, I plan on revising trig and statistics. And tomorrow, at school, I shall study for Afrikaans. Yeah.

/me blows Woy a kiss because she can’t get her mind off him, so he might as weel benefit from it :*

/me blows Woy another kiss :*

Oh well. Off to cell now. See all of you non-existant fans later.

It’s not fair. LIke Woy asked last night… why does it have to be so hard and unfair on top of it?
/me sighs and looks down
I was hoping that he might be here. But he’s not. Regardless of the alarm clock’s encouraging beep this morning, he’s not here. And I can’t talk to him. I debated about whether or not to send him a message, in case I wake him up, but decided to anyway, hoping that his message tone wasn’t that loud.

I miss him. It’s not right. It’s just not fair. *sighs and sighs*

/me thinks that she will go climb into bed and watch the screen from there so that she can pretend that he’s there with her, holding her warmly and she is curled up in him arms… like the poem…

/me reads both, can’t help smiling at the other one and then gets into bed, watching the screen carefully.

/me can’t resist reading the other poem about five more times, feeling somewhat better.

“When I hold you in my arms and you’re all mine”

All his

Still all his

All his.

*Blows Woy another two dozen kisses although he won’t know about them*

I’m really worried about Woy. I haven’t seen him all day and it’s half an hour to curfew. Where is he? Is he okay? *sighs*
Is he okay? I’m very worried about him. Where could he be? Is he safe?
/me changes the topic to try and save her sanity

Okay. So the weekend was pretty cool. The ‘rents have realized that I’m out of their house in a couple of years, so they’ve started dragging me along everywhere. Last weekend, I had to go hiking. I generally like hiking. But not when I could be online, you know…
We were a group of nine people, the rents, me and my sister. Then there was Mr. Warner, this really sweet man my dad works with (well, he’s sort of his boss, but that is a very questionable term as Mr. Warner pretty much gives my dad free rein most of the time since my dad sort of only works there part-time as he still has his own business too), his wife (she is very sweet), their daughter and her husband and their son. Their daughter is quite nice, especially when she’s tispy, then she’s very talkative (only one glass of wine people, we weren’t drinking heavily or anything). Her husband is also really nice… he noticed that I had my IT books there to study from and offered to get some or other programming package to me through Mr. Warner and my dad. A C Sharp package including Visual Basic and Web designing tutorials. Really cool. The other dude, Duncan is hilarious. He’s this really tall, skinny guy who\s pretty quiet most of the time but, if you listen closely enough, will always have some or other comment for everything. Last time I saw him he had long hair, but he seems to have cut it since then. lol He cracks me up.

Is he okay? Please let him be okay. Don’t let him be doing anything stupid. Let him be okay…

*takes a deep breath* And then there were these other people. They were incredibly nice. They’re all coloured (except for two who were black). There was one lady with short and wild curly hair who was very friendly and always talking some sort of nonsense (very loudly of course). There was an older man and his wife. The dude is an IT teacher, apparently, so he was quite thrilled to see me studying my IT . There were a couple who were quite young. The guy was nice and his wife was quite pretty. Then there was… oh yeah. There was a guy who looked a little Indian, but he didn’t talk much. There was *counts on her fingers* oh yes, this lady who was really very friendly. I’m pretty quiet, but she was always inviting me to sit closer or to have some coke or something. She’s really sweet. And she took a picture of me and my sister for some reason. She had dark hair (well, they all had dark hair) that she wore very short. Then there was this black guy and his wife/girlfriend/not-sure. He was very friendly and plans on climbing Everest with her (well, she’s going up most of the way and he’s staying around the bottom). Now his wife…. she is absoluetly gorgeous. Gorgeousness lacing every line of her body. She has these stunning chocolate eyes that are somewhat Egyptiany and absolutely flawless, honeyish skin. And she has the most beautiful curves and the most beautiful smile. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve probably ever seen (well, maybe apart from the woman at church). And the thing is, it’s not like she was skinny at all (like all those freaking anorexic models everywhere). She was simply gorgeous, built perfectly with her curves. Beautiful. I just sat there watching her for quite a while. No, I’m not lesbian my little sick-minded chipmunks (who I like to pretend are reading this). I just appreciate beauty.
And last, but not least, there was the clown of their group, a proud Bushman (or he claims so, but he’s probably coloured ) who can’t stop talking. He was hilarious. He didn’t pack his bags, his wife did, so the next morning when he went through his bag, he kept giving these exclamations at the wonderful things he was finding. She had actually packed him a bag of sweets in each of the pockets of his cargo pants (about six pockets ) as well as about three sets of cutlery. *grins* She sounds nice .

Where is he/asdjfajsdpmoi;cuqofdjiojcack?

It was good for me to get away. I have decided something.
I am tired of trying to always make the right decision. I’m tired of thinking so much before I do anything. I’m always analyzing my every action and I’m tired of it. I’m going to live to please God and, other than that, I am simply going to live life. What happens will happen. And if I happen to be in love with a guy ten years older than me and in another country, then that’s cool. If I’m happy, then all the rest of the people can go eat cake. I love him and that’s the end of it. And if they tell me that I don’t know what love is, then they can go eat some more cake. He’s the one who’s managed to break down all my nonsense and get me to love again. Don’t they come and tell me I don’t know what it is.

Where is he….? :* :* :*

He’s here

Bye

I sound like a pathetic, self-pitying little wretch, don’t I? I’m not really. I just sound like it. But I’m not. Just so you know. I’m actually wearing some white today. And I’m down. But I’ll be up again soon enough, don’t worry. And then I’ll be sweet again. For now, please excuse my patheticness. I’ll recover soon.

I miss him. I need him. So much.

So much for that. I need to get myself out of this. Right now. We, as humans, don’t need to just be governed by what we feel. We really don’t. But I’m not sure whether ignoring this feeling and trying to get out would count as suppressing. Which I have done enough of to last about five lifetimes and I’m suffering enough consequences to last me a couple of hundred.

It;s really pretty outside. And my room’s light is reflecting against the black on my screen and making this beautiful pinkish, yellowish haze. Gorgeous.

Back to what I was trying to say (if anything) *rereads* Oh yeah. I was about to stress.
I can’t let myself just be down when I want to. I need to be able to be disciplined to get up again. Somehow. Without suppressing. Somehow. Yeah, somehow. I can’t live like this for the rest of my life. And who is going to want to know and live with me if I either put up a mask or am just plain depressed all the time.
There is medication against depression. But I’ve heard that makes you numb (besides, I’m not even sure whether this feeling is just me being weird, a psychological problem or a medical one. Most likely I’m just making all this up for attention. I wouldn’t know. But that’s actually what I’m afraid of. That I’m the one making myself sick like this all the time). And I’m already numb enough, thank you. I still have to consciously break down walls every time I talk to someone. With everyone. And it’s agony leaving myself vulnerable like that. But if I don’t then I’m never going to get anywhere. Besides, as much as it hurts, I need to be open and be able to talk to Woy. It’s not fair of me to expect him to forever be climbing my walls. It’s not fair. So I break them down. The only problem, is that my subconscious seems to regard out relationship as a danger-zone and buils up those walls so incredibly fast. But it’s all good. I’ll break down for the rest of my life if that’s what I have to do to stay with this guy.

It’s more yellow than pink outside now. Stunning.

I wonder what on earth is wrong with me today.

Whatever.

Argh. My weekend was brilliant, thank you. It really was. And I will tell you all about it at some point in time. But not right now. Right now, I’m blogging in an effort to get rid of this feeling clinging to me.

I have been fine for about two weeks now, I think (I couldn’t be sure. My sense of time is generally warped).  And that is really good (the fact that I have been up, not the fact that my sense of time is warped). I feel sick. And so tired. So tired of being okay. I’m just tired. I want to sleep so I can just forget everything and stop thinking.

I feel sick. And, although I’ve been clean of those thoughts for about two weeks, they are back in full strength atm. It might make me feel better. But then looking at my arm makes me sick. Not that it matters. I’m already feeling sick. But I swore I wouldn’t. Else I wouldn’t be here blogging, I’d be busy. *sighs, shudders and shrugs*

nvm

Strangely enough, reading depressing literature makes me feel better. Or maybe it makes me feel worse. I’m not sure what the difference is anymore. At least I feel something that way.
I am quite sure that I was in a better mood yesterday than I have been for months. And now I’m completely down. Interesting. Maybe I’m not really down, I’m just feeling the serious contrast between very up and normal. Maybe.
As you might have noticed, I have developed this habit of psycho-analyzing everything I do. All my little mannerisms, likes, dislikes, reactions, everything. I pshychoanalyze it. I wonder why I do that. *stops herself before she starts analyzing that*

/me sighs

Maybe I’m not feeling sick, but hungry. That isn’t likely, though. I’ve eaten decently today. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I shouldn’t eat. *sighs*

I don’t know. I don’t care. I should be studying. I can barely get myself to type. I just want to curl up on my bed with the windows and curtains wide open and watch the rain. Or the rain-sky at least, It’s stopped raining for the moment.

I still feel sick.

It’s gorgeous outside. The sky is a pinkish grey and all the plants are alive with wind. Beautiful. And the dried stains of old rain rivulets against the window just adds to the effect.

So…

Yeah whatever. This isn’t helping. I still feel horse-manurishy. I’ma go try and do something constructive. Piano maybe.

Hey all. Here is a half post, seeing as we’re actually about to leave for cell group

Today was okay. I was once more practically asleep. Mainly boring (maths was cool though). Hm. I screamed today. You see, I don’t generally get  angry. It just drains you of energy that could have been used to do something useful. Today, I was too tired to care. I’m quite sure that PMS also played a role…
Natalie had some kind of skin mask (like, liquid stuff you apply to your face for any guys reading this. As if anyone is) sample at school. So, of course, she found great joy in smearing us all with it. I was innocently trying to read in subs (The Art of the Infinite. Brilliant book) when she sneaked up on me from behind and smeared the stuff all over my jaw. Argh. I was nice. I am generally nice. I was quite annoyed, but I was still nice. I then went and washed it off. I was on my way back when she ran past me and smeared me again. The stuff does not come of easily.
So, of course, the most obvious reaction would be to just go back to the bathroom and wash it off again, right? I don’t like being obvious. So, being the bright spark that I am, I stamped my foot (yes, like a two year old) and screamed (yes, I threw a tantrum, in short). Oh well. Then Reuben had to go and irritate me… I was relatively nice to him though. I avoided Natalie for the rest of the day in an effort to save my sanity and for her safety’s sake. I don’t get angry easily (well. Except around this time… don’t worry, I’ll be my sweet, walk-over-me-without-me-really-bothing-to-care self again in a couple of days) but when I do, I get really irritated. Oh well. I’m fine again now.

Okay. So I better go hurry the rest of them people up if we want to be in time…

Oh, btw. I actually ate relatively decently today. I’m still ot hungry (I don’t think I’ma eat dinner. Bite me). I had my third of a bowl of muesli for breakfast. Lunch I had some toast, viennas and frozen peas. Frozen peas are really delicious, in case you were wondering.