Several Months On.

I checked this blog for the first time in a long time today. Half way though reading it I was fighting back tears. It saddens me to see how I can get and how I can let myself be, some of these posts are so painful yet so precious to me.

I once tried to describe my depression as like a tumour. It's not a piece of me, it doesn't make up a component of me, it's definitely not a part that's supposed to be there. But if I let it, it'll eat up at my insides and swallow all the parts of me that do make me the person I am. Sometimes I just don't want to fight it, I can't explain it, but when something tries to take you over with such force, it's like a release to just let it. Sometimes you just can't be bothered to fight any more.

Since my last post, clearly a lot has gone on. I lost the energy to do anything, even write this, which was such a comfort for me, I'd like to thank anyone that read my blog at any point for helping me with that. I lost a lot of weight and stopped taking care of myself, I started taking a lot of class A drugs, binge drinking enormously, being very wreckless and putting myself in dangerous situations, I'd spend weeks in my bed, only leaving it to go and buy tobacco. But, once you've hit bottom like that, the only way is up right? As time passes by thing's eventually got better, as they tend to do. I find myself now to be content, I've still got problems, but I'm dealing with things well, and enjoying myself in the process. A few times a day, I'll think briefly about jumping in front of that train, or dashing out at that lorry, or throwing myself out that window. But most of the day, I'm occupied with other distractions, these things don't take centre stage like they used to.

I've gotten a job, applied for University and re-built some bridges I burnt in my cloudy state.

But I'm learning a lot about myself, as everyone always is. There's myriad things I can still learn. I'm slowly leaving all the monsters and graveyards behind, I'm forgiving people I'd never've thought I would, and I'm dealing with things better than I ever thought I would. I'm so ashamed of all the people I hurt in my selfish bubble, but I'll learn to forgive myself if I haven't already.

I'm not saying the tumour will never come back, as it almost certainly will. And I know that it'll ruin me all over again, but for the time being, I'm plastering up the cracks one day at a time for tomorrow. No emotion will ever compare to the sheer heightened sense that you get when you're severely depressed. And once you've tasted it, it's hard not to go back for seconds.

I often get forgotten about now, I've been taken off the NHS priority list, my dad spends most of his nights with his girlfriend or with friends, my mum is finally free of a lot of her responsibilities so goes to the pub and on dates, at school my teachers have forgotten about me, and expect me to catch up and be in every lesson. As for Jamie, after several months he took me back, part of me feels he's still punishing me for the ways I hurt him. I'll never stop being ashamed of the night when he wouldn't come to my house and was with a friend, and I pestered and insulted him so much he stopped replying. I cut "I hate you" into my arm, so deeply I kept drifting in and out of unconsciousness, I still have the scars to prove it. I took a photo of it on my phone after I did it and sent it to him with the caption "do you believe that I hate you now?" I'll never stop regretting that night for as long as I live. But eventually he did take me back, which show's how much I must mean to him.

A Letter To Jamie

(Needless to say he'll never see this, even if it is intended for him)

No one ever loved me like you did.

I pushed you away, I pushed you away so much, cos I expected so much from you, I expected you to put up with all the fucking emotional shit I threw at you and never complain, and be relentless in your support. In that universe that I was in the centre of, I forgot that you’re not just a planet orbiting around me, you’ve got your own universe to deal with. I put my feelings above yours, I did all this shit to hurt you, because at the time I wanted you to hurt as much as I was hurting, partly hurting for what I believed was you not loving me enough. When in fact the entire time it was the other way around, I got so caught up in myself I forgot about you. And I’ll admit that even when I told you I hated you, I told you I didn’t ever want to see you again, even when I did unspeakable shit to make you feel like guilty, I just wanted you to fight for me. I was so self absorbed and warped that I wanted you to prove yourself to me, and I wanted to test how far I could push you and still have you there, because I didn’t have enough self esteem to realise you loved me any other way.

And I’m so sorry. And ever since I realised that I’ve felt so guilty. But I’m not going to make excuses for myself. I was lying if I ever said I didn’t love you any second, even if I said I didn’t want to talk I needed some time and space, even if it was just a passing look in my face. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’ll stay up with you all night. I’ll bring you those random little things like a can of Dr.Pepper, like you used to do to make me happy. If I needed to I’d tell the entire world because that’s how major we are, how real this is, and how this is something so much stronger than anything else. I’ll go to art galleries with you, cos I know how much you love them. I’ll try my best to understand you when it’s hard. And I’ll leave all the fucking selfish shit, all the tumours inside me behind. I’ll spend more time appreciating life instead of lying in bed. Or I’ll lie in bed with you for days on end if you want me to. And I’m here to shed tears for you if you need me to. I’m here to rip your jaws open if they’re clenched tight. I’ll always believe you, and I’ll never leave you.

I don't know if I'll update this blog for a while, then again I might do in a few days, if there's one thing I've learnt in life it's that you never know. I have a lot on and I don't think it's right to post for the sake of posting, if I do post it will only be for good reason, keeping in theme, and when I really feel like I can express myself in words.

Thank you.

They Drugged Me Up and Chucked Me Out.

What the fuck happened to us?

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO US?




What did you do?
Where the fuck are you?
What have you even been doing?

I MEAN FUCK.

God, oh god, oh god, oh god.

IT’S ALL SO FUCKED.

IT’S FUCKING FUCKED AND YOU FUCKED IT.

WE FUCKED IT.

I FUCKED IT.




What am I supposed to do?
What do I even do anyways?
What do I even feel?
WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO FEEL LIKE?

WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO FEEL.

YOU FAILED ME.
And you were the fucking world to me.
It’s the end of the world.
WHERE AM I SUPPOSED TO GO?


The view from my bed.




NO ONE WANTS TO HELP ME.
YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO HELP ME.

You could’ve fucking tried. You could’ve tried a lot harder than you did. You didn’t even try. I tried. I tried so much. I did everything I could to make you take notice. I’ve did everything I can. I’ve done everything I can.

You could’ve just held me.

They didn’t help me. They didn’t even try. NO ONE TRIES. They drugged me up and chucked me out, I was a waste of time and money, and I’m not worth the time and money. So it’s best not to try.

I’M TRYING.

I’m trying really hard.

Is there any point in trying anymore?




Pour me another, cos I can still see the floor.

That’s all I’ve been doing. What have you been doing?

IF I’M NOT SHITFACED I’M NOT HAPPY.

SOBER IS SHIT. I HATE BEING SOBER.

When you’re sober you can think, when you’re alone and sober things go wrong. Your head goes wrong.

I drink a bottle of vodka every time I go out. And when I’m out I drink everything I can find. And I have so much fun. Then I’m so happy. Surrounded by people in a hazy blur of drunkenness. I drunk either cider or vodka or wine everyday in July.

God I’ve been having so much fun. I’ve been climbing things, and breaking things, and shouting at anyone, and stealing things, and dancing like I’ve never danced before, and taking risks, and breaking into places, and starting fights, and chatting to so many people, and going so many places, and making so many friends, and taking so many drugs, and I don’t care about anything. I can’t stop now.

People have been commenting on how fun and happy I’ve been recently. That’s because I’ve been so fucking wasted.




It's all fucked.

This photo is pretty strange, it's typical cutting, beautifully photographed, so it seems kinda of beautiful, what do you think?

I haven't posted in a long long time, so I'll fill you in fast, I broke up with my boyfriend of 3 years because was so unsupportive. I missed him like crazy, had a few random fucks with friends to make me feel better, met up with him, ended up fucking him, we're not back together but we meet up and cuddle and stuff. It's a bit shit, he's still never there for me, no keener than he's ever been but I can't work properly without having him there sometimes.

I've finished my exams, they went better than expected.

It's pretty fucking hot out, which either makes me happier, or if something goes bad it amplifies my sadness.

Completing Mundane Chores Before You Die.

Why can't I be alone for 10 minutes in the night time without getting upset and lonely? I'm on facebook checking the chat every five minutes for someone that I can talk to, just so I don't have to be alone with my retarded thoughts.

Sixth form is a nightmare at the moment, I missed two weeks worth of work and I'm finding it impossible to catch up. I've got two weeks off now for easter break and it's 3.30am on saturday and all I've managed to do is waste the entire first week getting drunk, vomiting, staring at screens and reading - definitely not catching up. If I started it wouldn't even be that hard. But the idea of starting on the mountain of work I have scares me immensely.

Sorry I haven't posted in a while, though I doubt it's bothered anyone.

I don't know how I am at the moment.

I want to get away I guess. It's not like I'm that bad. I haven't cut myself since I started on this course of anti-depressants and I haven't stayed up all night crying in a while either. So in theory it sounds good. I'm playful and relaxed and going out and being nice to people...

My Thoughts on The Future

But I'm sick of this shit: of waking up every morning to my monotonous life that's clearly going nowhere. I already know how I'm going to end up, in a fairly boring shit job, waking up every morning to my monotonous life that's clearly going nowhere. I can see it already; wake up too early, rush out the door, do a shit job, eat a shit lunch, do a shit job, go home, watch tv, go on the computer. I might even have something particular to do that day, wash my clothes or go food shopping or ring up the boiler man. I might go to a shit pub on the weekend and meet friends from work, that I'll inevitably lose touch with after they/I move on to another shit job and we are no longer convenient to one another.

And there's this little niggling thought inside me that says I can't let that happen. But what's the alternative... I follow the "American dream" what a load of wank. I can go off and try and be an actress (something I'd love to do) I fail miserably and end up working an even shittier job than the fore mentioned and on the side begging for scraps of badly paid minor "acting" jobs that lead no where.

No matter what happens, it all ends up shit.

We live each mind numbingly day like a zombie, pottering about completing mundane chores cursing our lives under our breath. Spending our free time staring at a glowing screen for no good reason which barely amuses us. We amount to nothing memorable, then we die.

Why do people just accept that that is how their life is going to be?

And more importantly what can they do to change it?

A Very Traumatic Shopping Trip

I haven't really had much to say these last few days, I find the Citalopram can stifle my "creativity" somewhat, but besides that it's actually really great. It's been causing quite a few problems sleeping (not that I didn't have them anyways) and also made me lost my appetite.

Going Back to Sixth Form

I decided I should start going to school yesterday so went in after my doctors appointment in the morning. I can't quite tell weather that was a mistake or not yet. It was nice to see people and get back to some sort of normality, but I found myself just wanting to be alone and get away from everything. I went to find some of my teachers to catch up on what I missed as I had like 2 hours of frees, whilst most of them were really nice and just gave me some shit and told me what to do, the second teacher I went to see what a total cock about it. Just to tell you a bit about him he's Canadian (not that I have a problem with that) but he's also one of those teachers who loves to abuse their power. He's always been a moody prick, and he holds grudges and sets a stupid amount of pointless work, just because he can. If he's in a bad mood he takes it out on whoever and if you're even a minute late he likes to tell you to leave, after of course shouting at you.

So I went to see him and he went out of his classroom (whom he was making watch that terrible fucking video with Beyonce and Lady Gaga - maybe he thought it was topical and he'd be down with the kids) and started having a go at me in the corridor, in a proper spiteful way. I could feel like tears welling up, cos I'm really fucking sensitive and so afterwars I like paced off and locked myself in the closest teachers bathroom I could find. At that point standing in a toilet crying on my own I really did just want to leave and never come back, so 5 minutes later I left and walked around outside the school grounds looking for somewhere to have a cigarette. But I went back and sat in the common room, I planned on going with some people to the local shops which are about 10 minutes walk away but there was hardly anyone in the common room and they were all too lazy. I went at lunch and picked up my prescription with some people who I wouldn't even count as friends, but whatever. Basically it was a load of shit day, and when I got home I climbed into bed and didn't leave it till about 7.30am this morning; when I decided that I couldn't handle going in today.

A Very Traumatic Trip to Westfield Shopping Centre

Today my mother forced to me accompany her to meet my older sister in Westfield Shopping Centre AKA the biggest shopping centre in Europe. Usually I wouldn't mind but I really fucking didn't feel like going. After the half an hour drive there the second we got there I knew it was a bad idea, I just wanted to go home.

We looked in a perfume shop and the assistant was clearly following me round as if I was going to steal something, which pissed me off. We went to Starbucks, and there was a young woman taking up a 6 person table with her laptop whilst we had to sit on stupidly high stools, which pissed me off. Whilst waiting for my coffee I had to stop myself from crying, just because I couldn't handle being there. The woman behind the till in Starbucks was too busy talking to her friend to hand me our coffees which were sitting in front of her, which really pissed me off. Then she handed me 2/3 coffees and carried on talking and giving other people their coffees, which really pissed me off. All my sister could do was talk about her skin and how shit her boyfriend is, which pissed me off. A girl bashed into me and didn't even bother acknowledging me, which really pissed me off. Then whilst walking she stopped and said she was leaving cos she was so tired, and proceeded to complain to my mum about how shit her boyfriend is for 20 minutes, leaving me standing around, which really pissed me off. Then we went to Uni Qlo and she tried on like 4 pairs of the same jeans in different colours, leaving me standing around on my own, which really pissed me off. Then when we finally decided to leave my mum insisted we leave through the same car park lift we came in, and we spent about 20 minutes walking around looking for it, which really pissed me off. Then there was loads of traffic and I wanted a cigarette, which really pissed me off.

A not so small modern day version of hell - Westfield Shopping Centre.

So this week I have concluded, I am never leaving the house again.

Sit On My Roof With Me?

Major depressive disorder (also known as clinical depression, major depression, unipolar depression, or unipolar disorder) is a mental disorder characterized by an all-encompassing low mood accompanied by low self-esteem, and loss of interest or pleasure in normally enjoyable activities.

I've been given Citalopram on a low dosage. I've yet to have taken any, I should've started my treatment yesterday but I forgot. I'll start tonight and tell you how it goes. I'm also starting some CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy - they train you to think differently cos you're mentally abnormal or some shit) sometime soon, there's a very long waiting list but I'm urgent haha.

Keeping up with school work:

My coursework and general learning has been compromised so greatly because of this recent mess. I've always been a naturally smart person - luckily for myself - and that used to be enough to get me through with minimum amount of effort. But now that I'm studying A Levels I'm at a massive disadvantage. That is that nearly everyone in my course is somewhat brainy and that still isn't enough to keep you going, the workload is ridiculous to the point that people of a sound mind find it hard work to keep up, never mind a nutter. So I'm putting it on hold, not so much out of choice but just because I couldn't possible phantom doing anything mildly constructive at the moment.

There is one girl in my Theatre Studies class who also has depression, I spoke to her about it yesterday online and it's such a breath of fresh air to talk to someone who actually understands how things are. Everything we seemed to say to each other was just a mirror of the others feelings and she seemed to get exactly where I was coming from with all my complaints and vice versa. The reason I decided to talk to her about it was something very little that my Theatre Studies teacher said in our lesson during the day; basically we're doing group scripted performances for our exam and the teacher we had is directing my group, there's been complaints about how unreliable people are and one girl who is a friend of mine mentioned in a joking tone that we should just cut the other girls lines cos she's never in, the teacher just snapped at her saying don't even go there. So I knew something was up. It's funny how people don't notice how wrong things can be in others lives.

Yesterday I ran into one of my Product Design teachers in the corridor, he stopped me and said that he wasn't going to be in tomorrow (today) so to tell anyone else in the class if I see them. I was like ok. He was asked if I was going to be in (because I have a terrible track record of being in sometimes)

"I don't know"

"You've yet to decide weather you'll be coming to my lesson then, as usual."

"Well no."

"Are you going to be randomly ill again then?"

"I'm starting a new course of anti-depressants tonight so it depends how that goes."

"Oh ok..."

Haha, that shut him up. I'm considering telling all my teachers about my depression, maybe then they'll understand a little more and stop having a go at me for missing lessons here and there. Plus it's fun seeing them speechless and unable to criticise me for once.

My boyfriend not understanding how to deal with my depression:

The one person I've needed the most to be there for me and with me hasn't been. I think it scares him a lot. But it really makes me question how much he actually cares for me by putting me in the position of having to cheer up and get over it to see him. For the last week or so, I've been asking him everyday to come and spend time with me, and all I get is the same answer "I'm busy" or "I don't want to see you when you're acting like a dickhead." Supportive eh?

Yesterday I was literally begging him to come over, just for a bit. Now I understand I'm hardly a fountain of fun to spend time with but as someone I've been with for over 3 years you'd think he'd get over that and want to be with me anyways. Fair enough sometimes I'm a fucking maniac and I don't make any coherent sense, and yes I am going to take some of my frustrations out on him, but get over it ya kno. How much can you love someone if you aren't there for them when they actually need you?

Yesterday I was sitting on my roof under a duvet with a pillow listening to my I-Pod, trying to make sense of things and relax a bit. And I thought how nice it'd be if he was here with me. So I sent him a text, and this is how it went:

Me: Wanna come sit on my roof with me?

Me: (5 minutes later) Please x

Boyfriend: i can't im in college. Please dnt sit on the roof x

Me: It's nice up here it makes me kinda relaxed. What time are you done?x

Boyfriend: Half 5. Im busy tho and i really dont want 2 c u 2day im sorry x

Me: Why are you doing this? I need you.

Boyfriend: I dont want 2 c u because ir acting like a dick ok?

I ignore his few phone calls from an withheld number because I don't really want to talk to him now

Me: Please just so I can try to explain myself.x

Boyfriend: Answer the phone then.

So finally I talk to him on the phone. I tell him I need him and I'd like him to come over, he says that I need to just relax and get over it and I don't need any of this (this being the antidepressants and therapy) and I'm just being a dickhead and all I'm going to do is use him for a punch bag (metaphorically of course). Then he puts down the phone.

A painting my boyfriend did of my last year, I think my nose looks too small but still it's banging.

I don't really know what to do; it angers me that he doesn't care enough about me to come and support me and it just seems very selfish. It's an eye opener to a lot about our relationship. He should be there for me in sickness and in health right? Not just when things are cool?

P.S.

I've got 5 followers! Haha, I don't know how many of you are actually reading this, but just you being there makes me feel like someone is listening, so thank you. I'd like to hear any advice, comments, improvements I could make, or knock knock jokes in the comments, just because I think that'd be cool. I've also kind of popped little headings to what I'll be talking about in the following paragraphs, just so you can skip anything you really don't give a fuck about.

Teenagers Trying to Look Sexy, Crying and Throwing Up.

So a few days ago everything blew up. It all started with my dad screaming at me to get out of bed, and you know how things escalate in to "You ruined my life, I want to kill myself" pretty fast with me.

And now my mum is sending me to the doctors again, I have to ask for counselling, not Prozac. I wonder how much that'll cost the NHS.

She also found my self harm stuff, but she hasn't seen what damage I've done with it. Evidently she took it.

My forearm, a little suttin suttin I've been working on since last weekend. Note the emo heart haha, nicely done.

But whatever I'll keep that all short seeing as that seems to be the tone of most teenagers blog and it gets old pretty quick.

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My Boyfriend

We've been together for over 3 years now, when we met I was 13 and he was 15, he is two years ahead of me. He's got medium length light ginger hair, he's 5'11 and slight but toned. He does fine art and spends all his time getting stoned or drawing pictures. He's the only person who I feel safe with and the only person I really want to see any more.

And at the moment I really, really hate him.

I wrote a letter to him and covered it in blood the other night after he left my crying in my bed when I was all crazy (for the 3rd time this week), clearly I'm not going to give it to him. But I'll transcript it for you:

Dear Boyfriend

How the fuck could you do that. Don't fucking leave me crying alone in my bed because you're tired and I won't "cheer up". Do you even care at all? And it's so obvious you've noticed my left arm, how dare you choose to ignore it. IT IS FUCKING EASIER TO IGNORE HOW I AM RIGHT NOW? You don't understand how much I need you to be patient with me right now, I want you to try and be there for me. It's like everything makes me want to die. I don't want to do anything. I want time to stop. All I can feel is sadness and dread. And I have no energy to do anything. I don't deserve to be happy and I'd lie here forever if I could. Don't tell me to cheer up, it's not that simple, that I can choose to make this hollow feeling go away. I hate myself and I hate my life. Nothing has upset me, that's just the way I feel. I need you to support me badly. I feel so alone and you keep leaving me like this Boyfriend.

Jeez, how melodramatic and lame is that.

I'm considering sending him a string of 30 or so short abusive text messages, seeing as the random one or two aren't getting my point across.

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Anyway I've been invited to a friends (I use that term extremely loosely) 18th birthday party tonight; it'll be the typical kind of thing, a shitty rented hall, old man DJ playing Michael Jackson/Riverside Motherfucker, girls in badly done make up with too much orange leg showing under their topshop body-con dresses and teenage boys who look about 15 dancing badly to bad music, both sides trying to look sexy, crying and throwing up . I don't want to go.

Boyfriend is invited too but he's going to get stoned with his "boyz" instead. I wanted him to go with me, I could get disgustingly drunk and he could drive me home and lie in bed with me whilst I cry. That would've been my ideal night. Or honestly maybe just the latter to be honest. But now I either go with friends, have a shit time, spend the entire night wanting to go home. Or stay in and spend the entire night wanting to die.

The Heating Goes Off at 12.30am

It's so fucking cold. And I get like this nearly every night, and nothing has changed.

This is how fucked my sleeping pattern is, here's a few options:

20% of time time it goes like this:

12.30am: I should go to sleep now, I have to be up at 6.30am.

3am: I'm still on the computer or reading a book.

5am: Well there's clearly no point going to sleep now, if I even could, seeing as I'd never wake up.

7am: Start getting ready for college.

8am: Decide not to go to college and to catch up on all my work.

10am: Fall asleep.

7pm: Get shouted at for not going to college.

20% of the time it goes like this:

4pm: Wake up, realise I've slept through college.

3am: Consider sleeping, allow it.

6am: Start getting ready for college, go.

4pm: Get home, decide to read my book/watch TV in bed for a few hours.

7pm: Fall asleep.

6am: Wake up, realise I haven't done any of the coursework I planned to do last night and am supposed to hand in today, go to college, get shouted at.

40% of the time it goes like this:

2am: Decide to go to bed, read.

4am: Fall asleep.

8am: Wake up, realise I'm late RUSH. Am still late, get shouted at.

And the other 20% of the time this happens:

DON'T SLEEP FOR DAYS, WANT TO VOMIT ALL THE TIME, CAN'T CONCENTRATE ON SHIT.

Once, I stayed at my friends house after she had a party, and I couldn't sleep and I was drunk so I collected random objects from her street and placed them around her front garden.

Notice the printer on her dads van and on the wall. There were also bricks in all her flowerpots.

It was a giggle trying to put the bin back in an "appropriate" place later on, and 3months later it was still on the street we placed it on, full of rubbish.

Clearly I spend the time I could be sleeping constructively.

But this is a complaint about: yes, firstly I do hate how fucked my sleeping "pattern" is, but secondly and very importantly why does the heating go off at 12.30am and on at 7am. It's like 2C outside and 3C in my sham of a room. I'm sitting here shaking. I need a coffee, then I'll get ready for college, maybe.

Good Morning

Little Known Ways of Killing Yourself

Introduction

I'm not a very motivated kind of person, I lack the patience and drive to be dedicated to anything. I set up this blog this time last year with the intention of posting regular little tidbits of information on a fairly average teenager living in London suffering from mild bouts of depression from time to time, but clearly it's taken me an entire year to get to my first post. But either way here goes...

I've wanted to set up a blog for years now, but it was more of a nice idea 'til now. I couldn't decide if I should make my own person public or keep it private, and after years of arguing with myself over this I've decided to stay anonymous. I've decided to do this so that I can be completely honest and able to express things I'd usually hide. If I'm reading someone's blog I like to see a photo of them, so I know if they're not actually a complete phoney, but clearly now I can't do that. So I'm just going to tell you a bit about myself (physically and personality wise.)

A Bit About Myself

I'm 17 years old, but please don't mistake age as a measure for maturity or intellect. I'm far from naive and I may not have lived through as many wars as your granddaddy but I've fought in enough of my own to know what's what.

Appearance

I'm a female, if you hadn't already guessed by my style of writing. And I'm also a fairly attractive one at that. I'm not going to fake modesty in any way on this; I'm not the most beautiful creature to walk the planet, far from it in fact. But I get the fair amount of random street admirers and compliments. I'm 5'3, 8 and a half stone, with a 24 inch waist and 32E boobies. Whilst these measurements aren't the current societies ideal, they've functioned for me so far. However I am a firm believer that people can look as good as they want to (unless you're proper fucking butters and you want to look like Megan Fox), I put a lot of effort into my appearance, and I refuse to leave the house without a full face of make-up and my trademark massive puffy barnet, which has cost my natural hair dearly. In fact after I wash my hair, before I have any products and styling on my hair, my head looks deformed.

Intellect

I'm actually pretty smart too, surprisingly. People tend not to realise this about me for a while, but I kind of prefer it that way. The only problem is I am severely lacking in any kind of motivation (as mentioned before,) you could say I'm a life long sufferer of CBA syndrome, which is an increasingly growing problem in today's society. If I worked hard I could be an A* student, but unfortunately I'd prefer to try and enjoy my life and get mediocre grades. For my GCSE's I received four A's, four B's and the rest C's. For my AS level mocks I received all B's, but as far as I'm concerned that's got to be a hoax. I take psychology, media studies, theatre studies and product design (apparently this means I'm wasting my mind with doss subjects.)

Intrests

I like music, who doesn't? Currently I'm listening to a cover of Ebb Tide by Bonnie "Prince" Billy, you should look it up on youtube or something. at the moment I like Atmosphere, Major Lazer, The Beatles and Vampire Weekend. I've lived in London my entire life, my dad is Malaysian-Chinese and my mum is Irish.

I spend my time:

• Slacking off sixth form.
• Getting drunk and high with friends,
• Watching TV or playing PS2 with my boyfriend (of 3 years.)
• On Facebook.
• Sleeping for 20 hours straight or not at all.
• And every few months crying depressed in my bed doing nothing but smoking, cutting myself (don't judge me hah), and thinking of little known ways of killing myself for entire days.

Me at a small party a few weeks ago at a house some of my friends rent, I end up here pretty regularily.

All in all this sounds a lot worse than it is, I promise.

If you've got to reading this point I commend you, if anyone does actually read this. There'll be more to come very soon, drop me line in the comments telling me what you think.

Good Morning ;)