iPod

I'm getting an iPod! It's been over a year since I broke my last one, and my parents are rewarding me for my 35 on the ACT. :]

What should I get engraved on it?? 

Right now it's going to be:

do you believe in rapture?

t.lstnm☆

What do you think? Is this dumb? Perverse enough?  
Rapture may have slight religious connotations, which kills it.. 

Tee hee!

EDIT:
Actually I ended up going with:

love truth, pardon error.

t.lstnm

I hope it's decent!

Nomz Day.

        I pigged out today. We had math team regionals, and my friends and I emptied the vending machines. Today I ate: garlic bread, bag of cheetos, bag of cheezits, two twix bars, four slices of pizza, yogurt, string cheese, girl scout cookies, and noodles. Revolting. I looked in the mirror and thought, pudgy, lol.I played badminton, and I can only hope that it worked off enough.

        A large portion of what I miss from having someone there was the adoration I felt. A half decent boy loved my body. He almost made me love my body too. He couldn't keep his hands off of me. My body was so beautiful and desirable. I was a goddess to his testosterone-glazed eyes.

Even the prospect of my body could not overcome my sick personality.

-T.

How...?

        EG told me in a semi-joking semi-mocking way that her goal in life is to be happy. It was as if she was telling me that since she wanted to be happy, so she was. As if I wanted to be this way. I put on my depressed down-dragging manner on purpose. I do it for attention. I don't want to be happy, not like she or anyone else does. 

        How do people expect me to be happy when they criticize me for not being happy? It's my fault I'm this way. It's my own thinking and my own stupidity and my own narrow-mindedness that puts me here. Even if that's true, which it truly could be, do they think they can just tell me to snap out of it? They tell me that they don't hate me, they just wish I could sound happy for once. Seriously that makes me so angry. I try so hard to be happy, and I still end up emanating this aura of depression. Then it becomes my fault for not trying hard enough. I'm obviously doing something wrong if I can't just be happy. They want me to "be myself." What if they hate "myself?" Then I should just put on my fake happy self so that people will like me. Honestly I wonder if that's what I'm going to have to do for the rest of my life. Nobody really wants to help. They just want to see what they think is a happy shining girl, and be done with it. Everyone tries to be so altruistic. They are so close-minded. They know so little.

        I have been shitting on EG a lot here. It's not that I think she is a terrible person. It's just that she represents everything about humanity that I detest and society loves. She is the conglomeration of effortless natural beauty, effortless cheer, magnetic "personality", fakery, people-pleasing, self-assurance, cute naivety, and artificial niceties. Worst of all, her qualities in combination with her broken family background make her absolutely unhateable. Only the most wretched could hate her. 

Everyone else can do it.

 I don't want it enough.

See?

-T.

SOML.

Leisure reading from Psychology Today:

"Dumped, But Not Down"
From the page:

• "[Rejection-sensitive individuals] live life in panic mode, which not only brings them relentless emotional turmoil, but also sets off the most frustrating feature of rejection-sensitivity: It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Magnifying oversights and seeing slipups as proof of catastrophe, they unleash hostility, anger, despondency, or jealousy. Their emotional storms often drive away the very people they hoped to hook.

• "The difference between a normal response to rebuffs and an oversensitive one may be summed up in one word: rumination. Highly rejection-sensitive people are also more likely to be "overthinkers" who ruminate excessively about everyday experience. Overthinking may be the engine of hypersensitivity to rejection, says Susan Nolen-Hoeksema, professor of psychology at Yale and author of Eating, Drinking, Overthinking."

• "They might desperately seek out intimacy and make unreasonable demands of a partner—appearing overly invested yet anticipating the partner's departure. Or they avoid intimacy altogether—averting stormy relationships but losing out on the chance to find acceptance and support. Either path puts them at risk for loneliness and depression."

• "The best remedy for rejection-sensitivity is caring friends who can tolerate defensive antics and engender trust. Downey found that among rejection-sensitive people who did manage to find and keep a loving romantic partner, reactivity abated over time."

I honestly don't really have anything to add, except Story of My Life. 
 -T.

wha... ??

        So.. D's best friend since childhood or something just asked me out on a date. I only met the guy, MP, once before. Totally did not see that coming. I think I'm not ready yet, and I let him know that. I told him to ask me again in a few weeks. I hate to turn anyone away or close any doors, and I hope I didn't just do that. He understands though. Anyhow, I think it's helping me get used to the idea of moving on and letting someone else in. 

Also, he's pretty cute I think. :] 

ambiguity.

        Last night I went to a party of family friends at ZJ's house. He wasn't there. That was okay. I just wanted to wallow by myself anyway. Later he came though. He brought with him EG, D, and SJ. They just returned from a tour at U of I. I had not mentally prepared myself! And I was wearing my lazy weekend clothes and did minimal blah makeup!! ahhh. Still, it was nice to see them. Though I know that they did not go there to see me. SJ asked me, "are you going to NS's party tomorrow?" I replied, "uhh, guess not, seeing as I heard about it until now." Awk. I guess NS finds me bothersome now too.

       Anyway, SJ got into U of I early decision. EG got in the same way, and with a large scholarship. Yay her. D and ZJ just got wait-listed. Sucks, seeing as how D has not applied to anywhere else because he's a lazy bum even though he's smarter and better than that. I hope he gets in though. Well, maybe I want him to get away from EG.I know, I'm terrible. Either way, it shouldn't matter to me, should it? I often wonder if I'm ever going to see any of them again once they go off to college...

        Back to last night. It was only a little awkward. At first I kept worrying about not being too forward or ambiguous with my words and actions towards D. He was encouraging and carefree. He hugged me once. I nearly cried. I wonder if he noticed the pimple thing by my mouth. He rubbed and tugged at the back of my bra once. We had a few tickle fights. He fell asleep. I covered him with a blanket. In a momentary haze of half-sleep, he held my hand. He touched my lips. He fell asleep again. I kissed the top of his head. My fingers grazed his hair and feathered the nape of his neck. He shrank away. 

-T.

sustenance.

Here is a post that really is long over due.

        I don't have best friends, but if I had to choose one, I know who I would pick. She is the only person who just seems to understand me and my obnoxious train of thought. We find consolation in each other that we are not alone. She is gorgeous and she is one of the only people I know who legitimately loves to help people and to learn. She is so smart and pretty much famous. I can't say here what she is famous for, or even her initials, lest they betray her identity, so I will just refer to her as JD, for Jane Doe. In a way, her reputation has caused her a lot of pressure. She has too much impossibility to live up to.

        About two months ago, JD went to a psychiatrist and was diagnosed with recurring clinical depression. Peculiar that the only person who I can truly empathize with is one who is clinically depressed. She got prescribed an antidepressant. She had bad side effects with it, so now she is on another medication that is really working better her. Her depression has really faded. I am so happy for her, and it gives me hope for myself.

        However, just as JD's depression faded, another recurring affliction of hers returned, and worse than ever. Anorexia nervosa has taken over her life. She eats about 100 calories a day. All her thoughts are of food, how she is going to avoid it, how she can hide her diminishing body from her mother, how she feels her heart palpitating and she is on the verge of blacking out any moment. None of JD's other friends understand. They either yell at her about it, threaten to tell authority figures, or avoid her altogether. They take it personally, thinking that how many calories she eats equates how much she cares about them. They don't understand that anorexia is an addiction. In an addiction, life becomes substance above all else. 

        I have so much guilt. I try to help her. I know that I am all she has. She can't even tell her psychiatrist because she will be considered a danger to herself, so her parents will know. The worst is that she knows how much it is harming her. She knows she was happier +17 pounds ago. She knows that even when she gets to her thin goal she will not be happy. It's nearly impossible to hang out with JD anymore because she cannot be around food so she would rather avoid everything altogether. She sees how this is killing her. As she tells me, anorexia is JD's best friend.

        All we can talk about now is her addiction. Her beautiful spirit is sunken.
        I need to help her call it back. 
-T.

why isn't he ugly.

I wish D could stop being so good-looking. I wish I wouldn't have to see pictures of him and his friends who were once my friends on facebook. Nowadays they always make plans without me. Actually they started doing that a while ago. They look so happy without me. D doesn't need me. He once did. Not anymore. He has all of his fun friends who were once my friends to have a great time with. Especially EG. Especially EG.

-T.

senile woman.

        Last year, my choir teacher put me into chamber choir, the most advanced class because I knew music theory and had a decent voice. Juniors very rarely make it in, so I felt quite special. Later on in the year she changed her mind because I suck at the performance part, and I don't blame her for that because it is true that I don't have natural stage presence. By then though, it became a scheduling issue, so I asked if I could still be in it. She said alright, and I could definitely keep up musically, but I would give up a lot of opportunities since I would be competing with higher. That was okay. I knew what I was giving up, and I needed to keep my schedule, and I did not mind a challenge. 

        This year, I didn't keep up my reputation with her. I almost was allowed to audition for district choir, but she gave my spot to a senior. Again, understandable. Madrigals season was a drag. I wasn't in the group, but I knew that would happen. What was terrible was that she repeatedly reminded me and the whole class that I should have been in the other class. She made it seem like I got down on my knees and begged her to be there. It was so humiliating to be the worst person in a large room, and then have the person in charge point it out again and again. Eventually I got over it.

        Last week, she told us that she would make chamber a much smaller class, and that we were not guaranteed entry again. By then it didn't matter to me. After class I let her know that I would not be taking choir next year, so she would not have to worry about my placement. She said she wished I had been in the junior class again, so that I could really develop my voice and have more experience performing. She said that I was the "top one or two junior altos" and so she was sad to see me go, and I was the hardest working person in the class. I said it was okay, that I needed to be taking another class. And that was that. 

        Today, I found out that she told the junior class that I definitely wouldn't be in chamber. (Obviously, I'm dropping of my own accord.) She said I completely did not deserve to be there now. I just can't understand why she would lie to my face about me being one of the best. I don't care about what she thinks, she can think whatever she wants, but she basically trash-talked me in front of my friends and expected to get away with it. 

         It was especially shocking because just this semester, she lost her legitimately best and favorite and brightest and greatest musician of a student because of the way she abused all of us and took him for granted. He wrote her a letter basically telling her that she was a total inconsiderate bitch. As a result, she told us that she would try to be more agreeable and considerate. HAH. 

        She yells at us for having bad attitudes, but is it any wonder? She is so unprofessional, all her students have lost their respect for her. I'm not the only one she has talked trash about. I just hope that nobody who listens to her takes her too seriously. 

        Now I really understand the significance of knowing your own abilities and not heeding to what others say about you. After this year, I won't have to look at her or hear her ever again. 

I know I'm not a bad musician.

I know I have superb work ethic. 

I know that I have at least a half-decent singing voice.

I know that I don't deserve this kind of vile treatment. 

She is just a vile, senile old woman. I almost pity her.

-T.

P.S. I hope she's happy with herself. And she probably is, seeing as she doesn't think she did anything wrong. As for the rest of the year, I'm going to finish strong. I'm going to work my hardest to show her that she is wrong. The biggest difference is that I will no longer be her eager student. I'm going to put on my most outrageous anger face for her. I'm putting the effort in for myself.

my youtube therapist.

        For the past few weeks I've been watching ilikeweylie's youtube channel for fun. It started off as another makeup video binge. Weylie is too funny, and I just really like to look at her. :] Other than makeup videos, she also uploads advice videos. She can talk and talk and talk, and it's silly but I feel like she is really relating to me, right now namely in this video. In it, she gives a lot of good advice about getting over a guy. A tip that I think could really be useful is to set a time limit for yourself. I'm giving myself a month and a half to get over D. It would be longer, but I really don't have much time before prom. I know, I'm artificial and lame. 

As of March 22, 2011, I will be finished with D. 
-T.

valentine's day.

        Today was okay. I rather liked delivering singing valentines during choir. It was sort of hurtful to see all those happy stupid couples. Whatever. My math teacher is pulling all kinds of poo. I wore pink because I was supposed to for the singing valentines. She gave everyone who wore red a point of extra credit. But not pink. Well, also to a person wearing a darker shade of pink. When asked why not pink, she said "meh, just my rules." Okay, I know you hate me, but REALLY? Too obvious. She is the only teacher who could ever make me hate math. I had her in eight grade too, so this is like deja vu. Also, I got a research paper for English class back. I got a zero out of twenty for mechanics. Why? Because my teacher doubted that my ideas were original. Like, okay, I know you think I'm dumb and can't come up with complicated awesome stuff, but.... Whatever I'll talk to her and get it fixed. 

        Anyway, I got a babysitting job. White kids are too cute. I didn't have to do much, and I enjoyed it. It was three hours though, and I pretty much needed the time to teach myself the most difficult chapter of BC Calculus. Still it was worth it, because I got forty bucks. I only asked for five per hour. Some people just waste so much money.. I'm pretty sure I made almost double minimum wage before taxes. And I took an hour-long nap after I put the kids to bed. But hey, I can't complain!

-T. 

weeze.

I wonder if I'm always going to feel this way. I want to see a psychiatrist so badly. They can pop me some pills that will fix me... but my dad knows I only want to go to a psychiatrist for pills. He says I can go to counseling or psychologist... no psychiatrist. He's afraid of the side effects. Happiness really is the most important thing anyone can have. This is the first year of my life when I have actually realized that. It doesn't matter what you look like or how much money you have. I just want to be happy. I want pills because I really think there is something chemically wrong with me. I want to be fixed. I don't want to be like this for the rest of my life.

-T.

tonite.

My friend is coming over soon. She's going to help me stop feeling.

We're getting hammered tonight.

racing

sometimes my thoughts are so fast i cant think through them i cant sort themtheyaresofasticantkeepup i feel crazymyheartissqueezingandhurting i dont know what to do i think abouthowfastiamthinking its too fast its too scary i dont want to think this way butwhatifimrightwhatifeveryoneelseiswrong i dont want to be right i hopeitssomethingicangetoutof i cant be doomedlikethisforever i think i needtojustSTOP.
-T.

his-story.

        The first time I met D, I knew he was going to be something special in my life. I barely looked at him, and he barely looked at me. Still, I noticed his pretty eyes. I told him so. We didn't meet again until at least four months later. During that interval, I gazed at him in the hallways. He never noticed me. That was okay, I never expected him to. I didn't even know his name.

        Then D added me on Facebook. Not like we talked on it or anything. For me, it was a thrill to just stalk his pictures. Once, he got a cute blonde girlfriend. I noticed that all his girlfriends were similar: white, skinny, athletic looking, naturally fresh-faced preppy teens. He'd never notice me. I never expected him to. That was okay with me. 

        ZJ brought him to my friend's pool party. I thought there was some minor flirting, but I attributed that to him just being a gorgeous ladies' man. He talked about his girlfriend. He left the party early to go hang out with her. She was "so hot!!" A few days later, he asked me for my number via Facebook. Probably just to text and stuff.

        There was another pool party. Everyone took turns telling each other scary stories in the dark. I sat next to him, whimpering girlishly. He put his arm around me. OH. I restrained my glee. He had his So Hot girlfriend, after all. When we turned the lights on, he looked at his phone and sighed. D mentioned that he and his girlfriend just broke up three hours earlier. That was sorta quick, isn't there some kind of three day waiting period?

        We played truth or dare after that. I licked him from chin to belly button. He unhooked my bra through my shirt. We became official a few weeks later. The rest is history.

        It's so amazing to think that such a series of random, nonchalant events could lead to something so deep and maddening. I knew I would admire him, but I always thought it would just be from afar. Who would have thought that he would be the one to show me love. He would show me what a real make out session was like. He would show me that I really could lose my self-consciousness and drown in carnal pleasure. I learned so much. 

        It's perplexing to me how something so beautiful could happen by chance. I guess this is where people get to believing all this fate nonsense. Really though, it was so perfect, it couldn't have been an accident. It is so difficult to fathom that the fates could have led us together only to tear us apart again. All that I invested and changed about myself was for naught. It was so useless. It was so beautiful.
-T.

don't motivate me.

Honestly, this is the type of poster I hate. It reminds me of all the people who tell me to just be happy, as if it is so easy. They say to just stop over-thinking everything.Tell me how?? How do I stop thinking? If I try to, then I end up thinking about thinking! Seriously, I know this was supposed to help me, it was supposed to inspire me. It makes me feel like I'm retarded (excuse my language) for not being just normal and just turning it all off. People who are happy just tend to take it all for granted. 

Really, I would give half all of my smarts to be happy. I want to pop some Vicodin, maybe some Xanex. I don't know, I don't care. I just want to be normal. 
-T.

overture 2.

        After the initial sobfest, I really settled into a fog of calm. I am so much happier, but it's a struggle because I miss him too. I miss being able to just jump into his arms and smell him. I have to remember that we lost that for a while now. I thought I would be inconsolable for weeks, but really I'm so calm. Literally all I really want to do is go buy shoes.. it's ridiculous. 

        I'm kind of worried about prom though. Not me really, because I don't care that much about prom. I don't have to go. I went last year, it was just okay. I know he's worried about it too now. I'm afraid that whoever it is, it is going to hurt me. I don't know, I suppose it's because I always pictured it just the two of us. Like, the worst possible girl he could take would be NS. I would absolutely DIE. OK, not die, just retch for a few days. I'm almost hoping that if we become secure enough in saving our friendship, we can still go together.

        At this point the worst possible thing would be if we lost all friendship. No matter what, he was still one of my closest friends. I don't ever want to lose that. I want to be able to hug him with no worries, and I want him to feel comfortable talking to me about anything. I'm not ready to completely eradicate from my life. I'm trying to keep it up now, but I also want to give him his space. It seems like he's been taking it harder than I am. I'm afraid that if we just stop talking, we'll just let it fade away. It would devastate me to lose him that way again. He will always be my first love. I want to keep him close to me always. 
-T.

overture.

I can't believe it's finally over. After all this time. I've invested so much into it, and we once had a love so pure, not even sex tainted it. Except it did. After the love dissipated, all we had left was the ugly reminder that I had given myself to him wholly. I had let him into the dark secret parts of me that I never thought I would trust anyone enough to show. And now he will keep that guilt forever. I will too. 

Everything we had is dead. I should have mourned it already though, because it perished long ago. Yet I still can't stop thinking about all the things I could have done to fix it. All the terrible things I could have not said. Even if we are right for each other, we definitely aren't right now. This is for his happiness, and for my sanity. 

Good thing we don't have to fake it through Valentine's day. This is so hurtful. This is so right.

I wish I never met him. I wish I never fell for his beautiful blue eyes, his secure height, his adorable gray patch, his family, his touch, his voice, his charm, his adoration. 
-T.

...

I want to cut myself so badly. But I know if I do, it will only be more proof of my incompetence. 
-T.

the weather.

I am so cold. The snow makes it look as if I live in a different terrain. No longer the prairie state, but a rugged Himalayan geography. It mirrors the jagged ripped edges of my soul. For the past few days I have felt so alone. I am so cold. I wait until I am in my chilly residence before I can wail to myself. I do this for an hour, before my sister comes home. During the day, I must keep up my facade of cheer, so that I may one day have another chance at happiness.The sun shines brightly. All I can feel is his ubiquitous overcast. 
-T.

water

The water was once so cool and so cleansing. The waves lapped me up and comforted me. They begged me to join them, to become a part of them. I left some part of me in that water. The tides have changed. I test them, and they scald me with their iciness. I return often. Each time is a chance that they will be inviting again. When will they welcome me again? Will they welcome me again? Again? 
-T.

punkin pun.

research paper my ass.

        So right about now I am supposed to be writing a research paper. I should have started it about three weeks ago, and it is due once the weekend is over, in two days. It actually should be quite an interesting topic, the novel "1984" by George Orwell. I do believe it really is one of the best, revolutionary, most thought-provoking books ever written. Ah, Mr. Orwell, a genius you are. 

        Alas, all junior English classes are required to assign at least one research paper. So of course I need a proper thesis to be supported with restricting research. Not just any thesis either, it has to be bounded by numerous confusing and ambiguous restraints.Why was this paper chosen to be it?? This is seriously ruining the book for me. There is so much that this book changes about literature, about philosophy, about politics, about the way people think. Of course, posting to my blog is counterproductive, but I literally just sat here for three hours and came up with nothing, so I might as well.

        English class sucks. I'm not learning anything from this. I sure hope college is different. 
-T.

More Tiger Mother Controversy

        I'm sure most of you have at least heard about the new book "Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother" by Yale professor Amy Chua. Especially with the excerpt released in The Wall Street Journal, it's been the subject of endless controversy, with some parents crying child abuse and others giving it praise at uncovering the secret to the rampant success of Chinese children. 

        At first glance, I thought I was one of the products of such tiger parents. My parents were never so completely strict, but close enough. I was always pushed to my limits, and then when I reached them they were pushed further. However, her kids had something that I did not.  When her exemplary daughters did become successful, they received "plenty of ego-inflating parental praise lavished in the privacy of the home." This was part of the tiger mother deal I don't believe I ever got. Chua remarks that growing up she was called "garbage," and it somehow made her feel the esteem she got from her parents, despite the fact that she had disappointed them. Chua knew that her parents loved her, even when they were strict. 

        I suppose my parents do love me, and they always have. What immoral parents do not love their children? Why elsewould they worry so much about my grades and such? That's something I had to bring myself to assume consciously. Growing up, I never once had a moment of "wow, my parents love me so much, and I love them too!!" It was always strained, with my mother especially, as she would relentlessly scrutinize my every action, tone of voice, and facial twitch. I never heard the words "I love you" from my parents until my later teenage years, when I guess they learned parents were supposed to say that kind of thing. I listened to other kids at my school talk about the loving relationships they had with their parents, even kids who had similarly strict parents, and I just couldn't understand.
        What has helped me understand this the best I think was high school psychology class. "Authoritative" parenting styles, which were strict but responsive to children, yield self-proficient, balanced kids. "Authoritarian" parenting styles are strict but not very responsive, and they yield depressed kids without self-worth. It helps to explain the way I am quite precisely.
        What Amy Chua was getting at is that Chinese kids are successful because they know they have the full backing of their parents, with confidence, love, and harsh discipline. Essentially, I'm proud of my accomplishments, and I appreciate all that my parents have given me. However, there is still a funny twinge inside that tells me I'm missing something.
        I have never believed in uncondtional love, but maybe it's one of those things that can only exist for you after you've known it. Actually, not so long ago I thought I had it. But it turned out to be a flight of teenage fancy. It's something I want to experience fully before I die. I feel like unconditional love is a sort of bucket list item that most people take for granted.
-T.

radiohead relevance.

I worship this.

Love or Self.

        America is the land of the self-made man, of those who stay true to themselves no matter what. They take care to never give up hope, to never relinquish their beliefs. The history of our nation has certainly contributed to that. Were we not the ones who shook off the British when they became too stifling? Did we not guarantee ourselves rights that no other nation had ever heard of? In America, individualism and standing up for oneself are virtues.

        Americans take that into every aspect of their lives, and shove it into other countries. Besides that though, I think there is a problem once that individualism is applied to relationships.

Boyfriend doesn't like your attitude? He's stifling, emotionally abusive!

Girlfriend wants you to get a haircut? She's fickle, trying to control your life!

        We jump too quickly to the conclusion that if your partner doesn't like everything about you, and he or she has some flaws that bother you as well, then you're just not right for each other. If you can't accept everything about each other right away, then it's just not meant to be, so just let it go. 

        On the other hand, isn't the point of a relationship to compromise together, to find that sweet medium? Each part of a couple should be able to take away something positive from the relationship. They should grow together. There is a certain degree of self-sacrifice that needs to be made. Of course, do take my advice with a grain of salt. If your partner cannot stand your entire existence, background, mindset, then I'm not sure this can be helped. Only change parts of yourself that you think you would stand to benefit from as well. D wants me to be happier. It took him to get me to rock bottom and help me realize how much I needed it. I want to change for myself, even more than for him. If it's that kind of a situation, then it's a win win. D hates when I wear red lipstick, but I like to just for fun. So now I only wear it when I won't see him much that day, and he will just have to bear with me. Don't sweat the little things. Don't take your partner for granted. Boy, I hope I am making sense.

        As Americans who have the idea of rugged individualism embossed on our minds, we should take a step back and realize what we really want. Is it really to preserve our flawed selves? Or we may choose to fuse them with another's, and as one hand washes the other, come out as souls more enriched than ever.

-T.

Changes.

Don't change for me.

Be happier.

You are absolutely, 100% too beautiful to be mine.

You're a seven.

It's so cute that you care.

Stop worrying about me.
I'll never hurt you.
Be with me always.

I love you.

We'll see.

Be happier. 

-T.

Something I wrote last night...

The following was written in the wee hours of early this morning, the first time I wrote my feelings down in a long time:

        Silly to cry over a boy stupid stupid. I have better things I need to concentrate on. And yet, my heart has never ached so hard. A dull, throbbing, merciless hurt. I want to turn it off I want to be happy. D, my boyfriend, if you can still call him that, wants me to be happy too. However, he goes about it in the wrong way. I am starved of affection. My efforts are futile, they backfire. If I reveal how hopeless I feel, I am once again succumbing to negativity. The more I see him the more I hurt. Is this his cruel punishment for me? To torture me into happiness? I tell myself he is trying to help, and he is, but he hurts me with it.

        Why can't I be his perfect dream of a girl I once was? He would rather spend time with that one girl, EG. In fact, I feel as if all he does is spend time with her. She is so happy, so naturally full of pep. So pretty, so skinny, and she's white. The worst is that she is so perfect, so nice, so genuine, it should be a sin to hate her. Yet I can't help but do so. I am the ugly stepsister. Every single day they are together. If ZJ (D's best friend and my good childhood friend) didn't have her, I'm sure he would leave me for her by now. It is both a blessing and a curse. I am glad she is taken, unavailable, but I almost want to see what he would do. She is everything I am not. She embodies everything he wants me to be. 

        Would he still have loved me in the beginning, had he known what I would reveal of myself later? I think not. That's the part that hurts the most, that all his warmth and love and charm was not meant for me, but the illusion of who I made myself. I lost myself to a rash, hot teenage fling, not to pristine companionship and love. 

       How absolutely ironic that in the beginning, I was the one who could not just let go and love. He pined for me like I was a precious gem. Now here I am, unwanted trash.

My true darkness was gilded with girlish cheeriness. 

She was who he fell in love with. 

She was who he made love to. 

Towards me, he has only ever felt resentment and weariness.

-T.

And so I begin.

        I suppose I should start with some background of myself, as it might put whatever nonsense I put here into some sort of relatable context. I am a girl currently sixteen years of age, a junior in high school (though supposed to be a sophomore,) ABC (American-Born Chinese), and I live in a snotty suburb of Chicago.

         At first glance, I have everything. I have the GPA, the near-perfect SAT score, the decent looks, the cute, outgoing personality, the idiosyncratic yet impeccable sense of style, and the hot boyfriend.

        Things are not always as they appear. My GPA was achieved almost entirely by straight A minuses, my SAT score was a complete fluke. I spend copious amounts of time digging up makeup tips and tutorials, and then more time applying and experimenting. I know I'm not fat, but I still spend too much energy each day selecting the outfit that will minimize my weight. My once near-perfect relationship has now become entirely one-sided and terribly tumultuous.

       Perhaps the most difficult part for people to understand is my intense introversion. I am in the 98th percentile for introversion, but America is a land made for and run by extroverts. I've learned to fake extroversion. Acquaintances might say that I am a genuine, outgoing person. It is exhausting. Each day I come home, happy to be on my own time. It's not that I hate people, (though I have said so in the past to get people off of my back,) but social interactions drain me. The more I am drained, the more others misunderstand and judge me as being "antisocial" (which, by the way, is a legitimate disorder not relevant to the way that people use the word nowadays.) Most of the time though, I fake it all pretty well. I just worry that one day I will be exposed for the unacceptable person I really am.

         In essence, I come here to rant my silly opinions, where no one will judge me, and if anyone will, they won't matter. This will be my outlet, if I continue to find the time and effort to post here again. It will be largely an uninteresting spout of teenage angst and useless anxiety, so be warned. 

-T.