Eternal Springs
[Recent Entries][Archive][Friends][User Info]
Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in the "Darrian Sesierre" journal:[<< Previous 20 entries]
|
01:19 am
[Link] | I wanted to throw myself under a bus last night.
I wanted her to hold me, if I died.
I want to be happy.
I want to enjoy these feelings.
I want her to love me.
I want to have never ended it.
I want him to go away, just for a day. A week.
I want them to hold me, even if I don't die.
I want to want to find someone.
I want to open up.
I want to stop needing so much.
I want affection.
I want to be satisfied with the affection I'm getting.
I want to not dread going to the psychologist, because I am healthy and normal and functional every day.
I want to not be on pills.
I want to know which personality is mine.
I want people to know what goes through my head, every day.
I want people to never know what goes through my head, every day.
I want to trust.
I want to recognize being trusted as a priviledge, not a tool.
I want to stop wanting.
|
|
11:23 pm
[Link] | It doesn't have anything to do with being a girl, or being liberal, or having something fucked with neurons and misfiring chemicals that won't take to them-
It has everything to do with being human, and caring, and not wanting anyone to suffer while wanting /everyone/ to suffer. They don't need this to happen, but /you/ need it to happen- to have the world know what you've dealt with for the past few years. She deserves this, part of you thinks, for never giving a shit about your broken heart. What that broken heart lead to. What it still leads to. She's suffered too much, yet not enough and you can't seem to consolidate all of your contradictions long enough to know what to feel so you merely make a few lame jokes about "Remember, back in the day?" and hope your bitterness doesn't make it past your own mind. As much as you wish she knew, understood, about how much she's hurt you, the last thing you want her to know is /how much she's hurt you/.
She won't ever understand. You think. You hope. You can only think, over and over, how much you want to be a good friend, and drop everything to be there for her- because you know how it hurts, and what you never want to admit, even to yourself. that you've never fully, completely, stopped loving her as much as the first time she said "I love you" in that helpless voice, full of fear and hope and childish innocence. As much as you love her, you hate her twice over and it's still not enough to make you know what you want for her future. Or your own, for that matter.
I half hope she never wakes up.
I half hope I never do, either.
|
|
01:39 pm
[Link] |
[time lapse]
So... I suppose I should post something.
Not that I'm much sure who can read this shit anymore. Charmy's out there, Matty-love, Nick, and possibly the LJ authors but otherwise that than- guys, drop a line so I know who's stalking me these days. I probably won't flip out, even if I've never spoken to you. Promise.
Really, it's only the kids I *know*, reading this, who need fear for their lives. xD
<_<
So...basically...
Site's kind of up? I dunno how I feel about that. Regression might be an option, as well as ... well, dropping off the face of the earth. I do so adore to do that. [/sarcasm]
Erm...Katie's a whore, Chelsea's in love? Who'd have thought that would have been how it turned out, eh? There's not much left to be said between me and the first. I'm tired of her flirting, and asking after the "What if?". Her boy's five hours away- it's not like she can't go see the damn kid. I'm tired with being second best. I'd rather be lost and forgotten than taken advantage of- Stirling can attest to it. I'll grab myself a Claudia and Esteban, and wait for the world to end. I've been told all it takes is a better outlook on life....then again, by those who've had the better outlooks propped into their hands and grafted silver spoons to boot.
I'm a terrible person, have I mentioned? No one seems to realize it until I get into a foul mood and don't have enough energy to keep up the brain-to-mouth filter. Really guys, I'm not being a bitch. I'm consistently a bitch, you lot are merely too thick to notice anything sitting on your noses.
The education goes well, I suppose. Boring as fuck, and math's giving me headaches all ready, so... The room mate's a prick without backing for the beliefs, and it's starting to get on my nerves. If you think abortion should be legal, give me a solid reason sans "It's a human, too!" ...because science says you're wrong. Fuck you.
Cyranno and Roen are...in the process of being thought about. Not sure how well's that's going to go over. Those two are ridiculous amounts of impossible, but Roen's ... almost precisely what Cyranno needs at the moment, and I'm not one to get in the way of my little princess.
Yeah, it bothers me. A lot. I like to think over-exposure will lead to desensitazation, and eventually... numbness? It's a strange thing to find yourself loving the bad, because no good's to be found anywhere and not feeling anything for long enough would drive saints to insanity. Too much bad leads to depression, too much good leads to ignorance, and neither contrbutes to mental illness. How bloody lovely. It's like we can't win, these days.
She talks about desperation- how pathetic it is. While unimplicating herself because she can live without, or with, and there's little to no difference. I hate that. No one wants a life without- no one. And the other was just as bad, regarding the poor girl and...comparing. Sigh. Fucking hells, this is getting to be ridiculous.
<3Darrian
|
|
02:15 am
[Link] | I like how easily one's heart is put up for breaking, by kids who won't know any better for a good number of years yet.
Fuck. Involvement now means none later- it's worth it?
Hah.
|
|
11:14 pm
[Link] |
Batman
Is it ridiculously fucked up if I get turned on by great literature, or its equivalent?
*fans self*
|
|
09:07 am
[Link] |
Turn Her Down
Six- love, my ideal of it, is obsessive. The ideal is never meant to be reached, merely admired from a distance because that sort of perfection would tear two people apart, by their sanity first and their physical health last. My idea of truely loving, of wanting someone, means a thoroughly destructive preoccupation on both sides. Not so much paranoia, or insecurity- but protectiveness, amiability, and companionship. Protectiveness, I think, is the major one. It encompasses jealousy and safety, and I can't say I've ever felt protected, or enough to feel jealous over. Merely because i won't run around doesn't mean I want to feel treasured. I want the explosive affection. i want the insane levels of alpha-ing. I want so much of the things i haven't had, that when I finally find them- if ever- it couldn't possibly last.
It's the protection. It's the need for safety, I want. If I have to go through another relationship feeling like I can't fucking say anything that's on my mind without incurring the wrath of the uke who wants me on a leash- It just wouldn't work. At all.
I want a partnership of equals- not an uke and seme. I want to know that they will be there for me, as much as I'm there for them. That doesn't happen with today's kids- or anyone, for that matter. There has to be roles played in the relationship, which doesn't sit well with me because the only person I'd get along so fabulously with would be someone rather like myself. It's not an opposites attract- my opposite turned out to be a complete skank. I don't want that. I don't want the pressure of being made to decide everything, to make every plan and initiate every conversation. I want someone with whom conversation flows easily, or that neither of us have a truely uncomfortable silence.
Haha, it's 9:11 am. Ha.
I want someone who is willing to support me through my philosophical endevors, as well as drag me into theirs. Someone who can hold a compeltely meaningless conversation without degrading me for my random train of thought. Someone who doesn't feel the fucking need to point out that I'm weird in a condescending manner. I want the comfort of an affection I can rely on- something which will be there as long as I warrant it.
Not to mention someone who will tell me, harshly or otherwise, when I need to stop being such a jackass. And, at the same time, point out when I'm letting people walk all over me. Someone who can differentiate between, and never be either the person who takes advantage of me, or lets me take advantage of them. Both of which have their difficulties- I'm a naturally manipulative person. Hell, I do it to my friends, when I think I'll get a kick from it in the end.
Someone who'll understand my hesitancy towards intimacy, and who wants me anyway. Someone who respects my boundaries, but pushes them just enough to reassure me that they haven't lost interest just yet. I want the jealousy of someone, not so much feeling like I'll be adulterous, but feels the inferiority enough to know that I have the option to leave if I don't find them suitable. I want the possessiveness that comes with wanting, the need to mark what is yours to ward off the rest of the world. I don't want to be the sole provider and protector, not in a romance. I mother everyone else in my life- I won't mother my other.
I'm not mature, but ... yes. Once I find them, I think I'll know.
Knowing my luck, they'll already be spoken for. The hatred of beating around the bush on simple matters would have drawn them to someone else before I'd dreamt their existence.
Public affection isn't needed. It'd be almost better if there wasn't any- relationships shouldn't be flaunted, as much as one may want to. Sitting close, brushing arms would be enough, I think. Being in one another's presence should fulfill the needs to cuddle- at least when others are about. Public lords and private ladies, almost.
When we're in private, though, hand holding would be nice. An affectionate cuddle- wrestling even. Pseudo-violence is a turn on like none other. Don't be more afraid to hurt me, because I won't be afraid to land a punch. Trust me enough to respect what your pain thresholds are- I would never hurt them knowingly. After a point, of course. The trial period, if you would.
It would be grand, my romance. Full of perfection, and dazzling completeness which no other could compare to.
My romance, fictional.
~Darrian
|
|
09:32 pm
[Link] |
Yeah, lame
Ten things to say to ten different people:
1. We talk a lot. You know probably....way more about me than a good deal of people ever will. You know the right questions to ask- or when to just send a youtube link. I don't know how I ever got along without you, and i hope you know how much I look up to you. Again, you came into my life when I needed a friend the most, and you were the only one there for pitiful little me to cling to. I don't think you'll ever truely grasp how much I depend on you for my rays of sunshine.
2. I absolutely hate the amount of drama you pull me into. If you could stand up for yourself, even a little bit, half of your problems would vanish faster than you had time to cry about them. Life requires you to hurt a few feelings- but maybe that's something we all have to learn on our own time, and yours just hasn't come yet. Half of the time I think we're only friends because you know so much about me- and others, like today, I realize that for some sick, masochistic reason, I actually care for your well being. God alone knows why.
3. Oh, fuck- I can't begin to start off on how much I hate the bits of drama that pop up all over. I'd say you need to stop talking so much, about god-damn-everything, but it's part of who you are, and I suppose i should have come to terms with that a long time ago. It's so weird to think we'll probably never see each other again, after this summer. No doubt I'll get texts, though.
4. If I hadn't been such a bitch, for so long, we'd probably be a lot closer. Then again, you would never have had the chance to find your own happiness, if you'd only stuck by me. It was good, and it was bad. I only regret that can't talk to you anymore about the things I really need to let go of, becuase I can't say that I'm on your priority list. It's okay though, you deserve your happily ever after.
5. You're such a shallow little bitch- but it's what I love about you. You're a lot deeper than I gave you credit for, all those years ago, but still not as thoughtful as you should be, sometimes. You've done good, and you've done bad- but most of all you know what you want and you're not fucking afraid to go at it full-force. That's not a trait many kids our age have, and I think it's one of the main reasons I'd stand by you, if the time ever called for it.
6. I don't think we were ever half a good of friends as we pretend. You listen, and you've probably seen me cry more times than anyone I can think of...for that, I can't thank you enough. We didn't always see eye-to-eye, but you cared that i was hurting when no one else bothered. You've always been like that, really. I don't know what I would have done without you at Banquet, or all those times in the band hall when I just wanted to curl up and let the world swallow me whole. You've got a kinder heart than just about anyone I've ever met, please don't let college ruin that.
7. I don't think you'll ever realize how much you hurt me. It wasn't all for naught- I should hope I've learned to be a bit more careful. You've taught me that promises are made to be broken, and as difficult as that lesson was... I'll be damned if anyone will ever play me for the fool you did. There's so much I want to say to you, but for once, I don't have the words.
8. I don't really know where you get off saying that you're unattractive, underachieving, or any of that nonsense. It's so weird to see you as this magnificently driven person during the day- only to think that once you're home, you deal with thoughts like that. Yogurt is not a main food group, and there's nothing wrong with living life for yourself, rather than others. I can only hope you find something that makes you forget that people will always expect things of you, because at the end of the day, the only person you have to please... is yourself.
9. I'll miss you. You, and your boy-drama.
10. Making smoothies? Really? That's not cool.
Nine things about myself:
1. I space out. A lot. Apparently I get this ridiculously depressed look to me, but I swear to god, I'm just thinking. I know, weird concept.
2. I'm both nicer, and more sadistic than I let on. I'm astonished over how few people know this.
3. I lie. Almost compulsively, somedays, and especially if I'm angry.
4. I'm probably a hypochondriac.
5. I talk to myself, again, very often. Strangely enough, I come to the most life-changing discoveries that way.
6. I go insane if I don't read for at least three hours a day. No joke, full on emo-depression and everything.
7. I hate my name.
8. Nearly everything I say, if I'm not obviously fooling around, has a double meaning. No one ever catches the important ones, either.
9. I can't stand my smile.
Eight ways to win my heart:
1. Hygiene. It would seem obvious, but you'd be surprised.
2. Intelligence.
3. Inappropriate humor- and I don't mean innuendos, I mean- "Oh, gosh, that old lady just got hit by a bus." *snicker*
4. Be possessive. I swear to god, I won't get offended if you say, "You're mine." and fucking mean it. In fact, I'll probably swoon like the fangirl I am.
5. Hurt someone else's feelings before you think about hurting mine. If you're with me to begin with, that means I'd move heaven and hell to keep a smile on your face- the least you can do is reciprocate.
6. Keep me safe. If I want a hug, I'll only want it from one person.
7. Be curious about my life, ask questions. I've probably got an endless supply of things I want to know about you, it means I care. Hell, even if you don't ask questions, listen to whatever I'm prattling about. There aren't many people I feel comfortable babbling around, don't take advantage of that.
8. Don't write my feelings off. If I'm near tears, and look like someone just lost my bird- don't fucking tell me that you've got to be at work in five minutes. Listen for those five minutes and then promise to text, or something equally as non-jackassy.
Seven things that cross my mind a lot:
1. What's wrong with me?
2. Why're you not online, god damnit? -__-'
3. Why haven't you updated yet?
4. Why aren't things better yet?
5. Have I just screwed myself over for the rest of my life?
6. I wish I had more CDs...
7. Why don't we have {x food} in the house? ;_;
Six things I wish I never did:
1. Believed a word you said.
2. Listened to you that day. My poor ears.
3. Read all those romance fics. It's not good for a girl.
4. Thought I could count on you.
5. Let my anger get the better of me, when it came to you.
6. Didn't tell you sooner.
Five turn offs:
1. Lack of hygiene? Gross, kids. Showers are your friend.
2. Spinelessness. It's not courage, it's not bravery, it's standing up for yourself. If you don't respect you, why the hell should I?
3. Excessive flirting. With me, or others. If you like me, tell me straight out. It's not a big deal unless you make it one. Not to mention, if you're with me, I don't want to see you {or hear of you} putting feelers out for anyone else.
4. Breaking a promise. I'm not the most trusting person in the world, and not doing something I've been told you would isn't going to help you case. I don't care if you lie about small things, but if I ask a direct question, I better get a direct answer.
5. Shallow view on life. People aren't what they seem- some are more, some are less. It's not impressive if you've gotten this far in life without realizing it.
Four turn ons:
1. Say my name like it's important.
2. Care. I don't expect it from a lot of people, but hey, what can you do.
3. Let me sing you to sleep on occasion. I might not be good at it- but you don't have to actually listen, just go along with it.
4. I like buying things for people I care about- don't freak out. I'm not buying your affection, because half the time, it's going to be twenty five cent trinkets, but it'd be touching like none other if you kept the occasional one.
Three smileys that describe my life:
1. xDD I laugh. A lot. It's usually not a good thing.
2. <_< I am also...very paranoid. More so than you'll realize unless I start rambling.
3. -__-; Exasperation. It's a main food group.
Two things I want to do before I die:
1. Visit Europe and the UK. The mere amount of history in that place is astonishing, and contrary to my World Topics grades, I adore history.
2. Find some means to be truely happy with- be it through my profession, or a person. I haven't decided which, as of yet.
One confession:
1. I have a heart. I'm no pro at taking care of it, but it's there- and it's fucking irritating when even the friends seem to forget that it exists. But hey, what can you do?
|
08:18 pm
[Link] | So...basically..
Everytime I get ready to actually *talk* things out- Nicholas is offline. Maybe I'm sabotaging myself. So that i can say I'm willing to fix things, though it's someone else's fault why I can't. It's no proper excuse- but honest to god, who the fuck else am I going to talk to? Katie'll
just prattle everything back to Chelsea, who ... I don't even want to know what she'd do if she knew half of this. Jesus Christ. I'd talk to Mackenzie, but fuck if she doesn't seem the epitome of apathy most times. Which is, granted, why we get along so well, but still. I should just...get over this.
Yeah, like I haven't been saying that for what, six plus months? Fuck.
What the hell's wrong with me?
~Darrian
|
|
04:57 pm
[Link] | So...basically....
Just thought I'd mention that, One Nicholas, is pretty hardcore.
Weird, I know. I'd have put this on facebook- but... I dunno. It would seem like too much of an publicity stunt, than a passing mention of how much this kid's just full of awesome. Not that anyone knows why he's not fully aware of the fact himself, considering his dashing appearance and more than charming personality. Huh, never thought I'd actually use those adjectives to describe *anyone* in my lifetime, fictional or not. Anyway.
Not only is this kid witty- get this- he's probably the least jackass-y person I know. He's genuine to a fault. Probably one of the few (read: can count on a hand alone, sans a few fingers) I can actually trust with caring for me as a person. Not me as the logic, or me as the one who got fucked over by the long-distance-chick. It's nice.
Not to mention he doesn't hit on me. Big turn off, that.
I dunno. There's just something so right about the kid, that it's hard to put in words. He's like the kind of friend I never believed existed outside of movies and cheesy sitcoms. He's been through a hell of a fucking lot, and he comes out with the same shining fucking optimisism that he can't even see. Honest to god- if he didn't trust people as badly as he thinks...he wouldn't ever give people a chance. Like that sleezeball. If he were half the "bad person" he thought he was, he'd be breaking hearts like I do- on purpose, and sadistically. If he weren't so damn fucking decent, I'd have no problem with everything that's happened to him- but fucking hells, it's like the cosmos are out for this kid, no joke.
Honest to god, Nicholas, you're the last shining beacon of righteousness I've got. No scum-of-the-earth jackass can even come close to spoiling the type of /goodness/ you've got in your aura- and I've never met you!
You'll be just fine, you hear?
Love {in the most platonic, heterosexual manner possible} For the Forseeable Future,
~Darrian
|
|
10:54 am
[Link] |
Fn nd gms
- You DO NOT talk about girls you know that like you. And, if your girlfriend gets jealous and insecure and asks you to do something about that girl, YOU DO NOT SAY YOU DON'T WANT TO HURT THE GIRL’S FEELINGS. Whose feelings would you rather hurt, your girlfriend's or a girl that likes you?
Spines anyone?
~Darrian
|
|
09:25 am
[Link] | Issues issues issues.
More than a comic store.
|
|
08:40 pm
[Link] | Reading makes me cry.
it's just this thing that gets you so wrapped up in a world that's not yours, but has so many parallels that every little turn in the novel is one of yours, shrunken to fit the printed word.
Writers lie to tell the truth.
I don't think anyone will ever teach me more of anything, than books about myself. Everything that was right- so little- and everything that was wrong, which overshadowed what little was right.
Anniversaries are supposed to mean something. Hurts are supposed to mean something. Tears, gifts, birthdays, affection, insecurity, and over confidence and beauty were all supposed to mean something- and they never did. It wasn't right- actually, it was all...rather wrong, and whether that means I'm wrong, or she's right doesn't make much a difference because I'm never going to find that sort of faith with anyone again. No one's going to be able to read me like a book, or diffferentiate sarcasm from seriousness, and the seriousness in the sarcasm. It's locked away, and fuck if anyone needs to see it again.
I hate crying.
~Darrian
|
|
05:33 pm
[Link] |
Swoosh.
It's weird to get teary when someone calls you pretty.
Guess I'm not out of the woods- which is weird, because swimming upstream's never been a downfall of mine, sans now. God, why's it so fucking hard to even write this fucking stuff down? It's been over for months, and it's like some fucking twisted, masochistic part of me doesn't want to let it go!
I hate dances. I hate them because she promised she'd teach me how, and she wouldn't mind if I couldn't. I would have actually have had someone to get close to, in public, without being a slut, because we were supposed to care for one another. I don't understand how to writhe about with other people watching, in a manner that would make me look attractive (which would be the point of dancing). Mostly because, case and point, I'm not attractive.
I hate my body image. She only ever approved of the anorexically skinny girls and boys- and only girls who looked like effeminate boys. She stopped telling me I was pretty a year in. As in, it was never mentioned- when she'd gush about every one else, and how positively gorgeous they had been on x night, for x event. It got so bad, at one point, I stopped eating because- well- not being obese is the first step in not being fuck-ugly, right? A month or so in, I started having fainting spells, and despite self-loathing returned to moderately normal feeding habits. I couldn't shower without a bathing suit, because I couldn't look at myself, at one point.
I hate piercings. Oddly enough, she would croon about how pretty people with tattoos and piercings are, when I hate tattoos and only have one hole in each earlobe. She knew I never planned on getting any more, though every fucking time the topic came up- it was like she was forcing me to accept that the only people worth speaking to were the ones with voluntarily abnormal bodies.
I hate talking. She's half the fucking reason I don't speak about things that bother me anymore. I used to- all the time, because I've always been told it was healthy, and the right thing to do instead of bottling things up until you go mad with pressure and stress. Then she stops listening, and tells me that I'm stupid for being hurt, or stressing, or having the fucking emotions I had. So I stopped talking about them, in hopes to make her less irritated with my overall being. Needless to say, it didn't work.
I hate deception within bonds. If I trust someone enough to talk about why I'm angry, or upset, or hurt- I expect them to be just as fucking open with me. I don't trust anymore, because she would hardly ever tell me the real anything behind her anger, or apathy, or hatred. There'd be riddles, and guessing, and yelling- and maybe, if I was lucky, an answer at the end of it all. Though god forbid she ask about why I was upset, when it happened.
I hate showing off my body. Not only becuase I'm not particularly fond of it- but because now it's associated with being a slut. Even I can admit showing shoulder is modest dress, still, I won't. She was the harlot, I was the lady. I'm stuck.
I hate her because she showed me how little my friends support me. I hate her because I gave up my life to make her happy- and she couldn't return the same in a fraction. I hate her because now I see people in emotional need as weak, becuase I had no one to comfort me when I had the same things going on. I hate her because she's a fucking bitch, and thinks an insincere apology in a handful of pages can make up for two years of my life that I can't think back on without wanting to burst into tears, and simultaneously hating myself for the same feeling. I hate her because I'm too big a person to say any of this to her face. I hate her because she's a fucking spineless whore, who couldn't care about anyone but herself for the five minutes it would take to save a relationship.
I fucking hate her.
It's not over, I'm not fixed, though it's not irreparable. I just need the right mechanic. Or therapist.
~Darrian
|
|
06:43 pm
[Link] |
Bah
I really fucking hate AP kids.
I've been over this already, but for fuck's sake-
It's half the drag of being in IB, knowing that your work is freaking two steps above AP, yet...because half the kids *in* AP don't know about IB, they think they're the fucking shit for taking "advanced classes" and "AP US History".
I fall asleep in AP classes, and make A's. GAH.
Fuck you kids, you're *not* that clever, and your life *isn't* that hard. IBO looks at AP, and cranks up the intensity on our tests- so that *we* can be the best of students. FUCK.
~Darrian
|
|
11:49 am
[Link] |
Neighbors (Damn regret)
Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk.
Ha.
~Darrian
|
|
10:58 pm
[Link] | What's the help in knowing f the knowledge can't be used to fix it? It's strange how all the time alone has made one think, and the thinking would help if there were anyone to explain it to- though had there been anyone to explain it to, I'd never have thought of the explanations in the first place.
Maybe it's just he hypocondriac in me, but when there's something intrinsically wrong with your being and no one to straighten out the pieces of the disease you've managed to pull from the abyss- it all suddenly seems pointless. It's as if self-sabotage isn't enough, and the hurt has to flare, exponentially increasing, every time the thing comes up.
Mayhap I do need someone new, to finally draw light to all that's old. Mayhap someone new would just worsen the issue.
It's ironic that he was offended at my mention of seeing a shrink, when I think at this point, that's the only thing i want.
~Darrian
|
|
04:37 pm
[Link] |
Sailor Vowels
Finally, Darrian's back to being his judgemental, critical, hypocritical, fucking bitching self. Thank the gods.
One: Passive aggressive band directors, who can't teach, nor conduct. They should perish in hellfire. No joke, seriously? If they hire someone to teach kids in high school, they better not be the fucking thirty year old equivalant of the kids they're supposed to be teaching. I'm sick of having incompetent teachers, who think every time something goes wrong, the world is out to get them.
Two: Disrespecting intelligence. Whores, in particular, who disrespect intelligence- those kids were trying to study for the future-deciding exams, while you were shouting a conversation across the fucking room. Studying means the kids who are doing it are far more important than you can begin to conceive.
Three: Whores. Just- fucking sluts. I hate them. Is it that fucking difficult to keep it in your pants- or at the very least, not fucking flaunt your sex life to people who think you're revolting, on the best of days? Apparently humanity knows nothing of this "tact" of which we speak.
Four: AP kids. No, you are NOT better than IB kids. You're not even on par, or moderately below par. From CAS, to six IAs, to fourteen fucking test papers (with usually more than one essay each), to the EE, to ToK, to just studying for as long as we do- there's no fucking way AP holds a candle to IB. Yes, you're tests are difficult. Our classes from freshman to senior year, IAs, essays, lab reports, projects, are homework are ten times what yours are- we get a break on testing, even if it's not much of one.
Five: AP teachers. No, your students are no where near deserving of what IB students have. Yes, we're allowed free roam of the campus between and after testing- because we're usually going from the gym, to a teacher's room, to the library to study. Again. Like we've been doing for the past month and some, because we know how seriously we have to fucking take the tests if we want to have a viable future in society. Do your children do the fucking same things? No, because they're out getting pregnant, high, and drunk- which leaves no time for studying. We get the handful of privledges we do because we've fucking earned it. Yeah, we're going to be obnoxious if you try and tell us we need to "think about the class you're having" when all you're fucking doing is wacthig a movie- and we've been in and out of testing for the past fucking week, having hand cramps, sanity loss, grammar dysfucs, and nervous breakdowns because we actually fucking care about our grades. Kay, thanks- your little fits of rage on behalf of the AP kids is cute, but I'm about to punch you in the face if you say IB kids don't deserve to walk through the fucking halls to GET TO THEIR TEST, you know- the ones YOUR kids aren't halfway up to taking.
Sigh. I do believe that's it. Ta, losers.
~Darrian
|
|
04:22 pm
[Link] |
Nativty Scenes (are for the pure)
One: Phantom decided that she/he/whatever had the authority to scold other kids on the forums. Kind of wanted to slap her. I mean, I do the same thing in my head, but it's terribly bad form to actually DO it, especially when she has no authority for the move. Fucking dumb. Yes, America's good and bad, but we always croon our goods, so the board was place to list off the bads- and fucking morons have to take it the wrong way. yeah, I like living here. Yeah, it's nice- but the world knows th NICE parts of it. Not enough people talk about the bads- that doesn't mean you need to take fucking offense to it, jesus fucking christ. I take offense at the word "fag", because we live in a time where the politics of being a "fag" are under pretty fucking heavy fire- WHO THE HELL FIRES ON AMERICA? They can poke us with a stick, and we nuke their fucking country. It's how we work.
Two: The fledgling sparrows have their feathers. The underbellies are the prettiest of whites.
Three: Testing kills. It really does. It kills braincells, self-esteem, self-worth, and spirals the average human IB student into a month of severe depression. It's unhealthy, and should probably be heavily monitered by therapists and a handful of pyschiastrists.
Four: I'm tired of trying to make friends with people who don't fucking give a damn about anything. I really am. Is it so fucking difficult to have a passion for *something*? Or god damn- even a personality? Trying one's damndest to strike up a conversation with the fleshy equivalent of a fucking ragdoll isn't anyone's idea of a fun time. If I'm talking to you actively, it's because I want conversation- which requires TWO people, not one talking to themself.
Five: Days were no fics are updated are the equivalent of death and destruction. I need my daily dose of warm of fluffy, especially when all this fucking...damn...stupidity is going on.
Six: I miss not caring. I'd say I miss feeling safe, but i don't think I've ever had that luxury.
Seven: Paper III, History of the Americas, three essays, two and a half hours- tomorrow. Fuck, I need medication.
~Darrian
|
|
11:11 am
[Link] |
Multipliers
Prom was lame. I didn't dance because dancing more or less meant finding someone to have vertical sex with, and seriously kids? That's just not attractive. I'm pretty sure a few people went home pregnant- and I'm *not* talking about the coupe that came to prom pregnant.
Eitherway- haven't posted a rant in a while, and last night had enough down time for me to ponder things in my usual...non-original, stereotypical teenage manner.
One- people who know nothing about current events, politics, social issues, or society, should not begin to imagine a time where opening their mouth and spewing off random rumors would be welcome. No, actually, America's economy is just fine, take a fucking economics class- if you're going to bash the US and it's government, make sure you KNOW WHAT YOU'RE FUCKING TALKING ABOUT. yes, LxK, I'm talking to you.
Two- people who have the inability to defend their phobias, AND the lack of balls to admit that said phobia is irrational (the inherent nature of a phobia), should fall off the end of the earth. You can't like gay people, then follow up with, "As long as they're not in a relationship." The entire issue of gay marriage and being homo-fucking-sexual is about BEING IN RELATIONSHIPS. Jesus fucking christ.
Three- hitting on persons OBVIOUSLY DISINTERED in your advances? Fucking. Stupid. I wasn't being coy, Glenn, I really think you're a fucking creeper, who should spend more time looking at a girl's face, rather than her boobs. Maybe I'm just old fashioned like that. Not to mention your last girlfriend? Yeah, she's in therapy now, thanks to you. I wouldn't give you the time of day if someone held a gun to my head. God, i hate you.
Four- complaining about the prom dates you were BRAGGING about, not four hours earlier. Your men didn't take the leads in dancing? MAYBE BECAUSE THEY'RE THE BOTTOM OF THE FUCKING BARREL. When you said you settled, you gave up the right to complain when things weren't perfect, fuck you lot. I don't care, really- I went without a date becuase I know myself better than to give some poor sap the hope I'm interested in their sub-par ways, which, if I may remind you, you both yelled at me for. Fuck you.
Five- dances are nostalgic. I was nearly in tears. Obviously, I have issues which no one wants to hear about, in the least- and that's going to such some major ass because I can't focus when this shit's running around my head. Closure wasn't there. Friendship wasn't there. We hated each other, remember? I don't think I can count all the times you've made me feel worthless. So why did I miss what we never had, last night? I'm so fucked up.
Six- love, my ideal of it, is obsessive. The ideal is never meant to be reached, merely admired from a distance because that sort of perfection would tear two people apart, by their sanity first and their physical health last. My idea of truely loving, of wanting someone, means a thoroughly destructive preoccupation on both sides. Not so much paranoia, or insecurity- but protectiveness, amiability, and companionship. Protectiveness, I think, is the major one. It encompasses jealousy and safety, and I can't say I've ever felt protected, or enough to feel jealous over. Merely because i won't run around doesn't mean I want to feel treasured. I want the explosive affection. i want the insane levels of alpha-ing. I want so much of the things i haven't had, that when I finally find them- if ever- it couldn't possibly last.
Sigh, kidlets. Another day.
~Darrian
|
|
11:12 am
[Link] |
SMOOSH
Uh oh.
Me thinks the lady doth protest too much.
~Darrian
|
[<< Previous 20 entries] |
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
darriansesirre's journal