Oh my gosh guys, a teenager is taking about death and the afterlife and other spooky/ paranormal stuff that is like so ground-breaking and unusual. You know you're in a bad way when you have to sarcastically sneer on your blog verbally and then share it with the blogging community but you know what? This is what happens when you read to much and you only enter a silent library apart from the gossiping desk people and the unusually large, bulk buy hardware store with your father. It's getting off to be a good Summer already because I'm malfunctioning and forgetting to talk to people after just three weeks. God only knows what I'll be like at the four month mark. If my current state is anything to go by now, I will be frantic, boring but possibly the most well educated young person as far as images on the web are concerned and well versed in fancy pants literature.
H.G. Wells is sitting by my elbow as we speak and I can't wait to crack that puppy open and take some inspired personal/ feelings notes and stuff. Anyway I just finished a book about the apocalypse and it was all very anticlimactic and that sort of sums up what I feel like at the moment. I was so energised and enthused when I was sitting alone in the house, well aware I was wasting my life but with my mother taking leave for another six months (and counting...) I seem to have lost that illusive spark for life and all I can say is that I want it back. Or I at least want to take outfit self-portraits in the hallway without being judged instead of running on coffee in the early hours of the morning.
Also, can I just give a shout out to Mr. John Mayer? You so infamously crooned that your sweetheart's body was a wonderland. Well as a representative of the female species can I just say that they are far from a fun and magical place of carousels and romance. They are infuriating prisons at times, never do what you want and can often be a source of insecurity and constant worry. Sometimes it feels like it prevents us from wearing bikinis or white pants, or just in general showing ourselves to the wider community. Then there's the internal business that is so messy, abhorred in my imagination and damning I can't even begin to delve into without getting teary-eyed with frustration, personal and upset. After twenty years of SMS texting existing it's about time Mother Nature gave all us menstruating gals a neat little message every month or updates or whatever and just be done with the whole messy business. I hope that whimsical wish was a not a graphic and image-evoking experience.
Rather than all the pain, agony and suffering of the end of the world it feels like I am waiting for the end of the world. Not because of the Mayan prophecy or the end of a dusty calender but because of some greater social ostracising that may be thrown upon me; like the an old-fashioned stoning taking place at the town square amongst various spices and clay pots. It's funny how the end of the world has all these biblical references that evoke imagery of olden days, but it may happen soon when the human race was in the age of the information broker and where knowledge truly was power. It was wielded by those who sought it out and got informed where class mattered less and less in many countries but was muddled in confusion. Don't mind me- just fantasising about the end of existence and being a cold fish.
I often feel the great internal war raging inside me, but the darker forces are definitely winning at this point. It's not so much Good vs. Evil but certainly the dark and moody teenager against the toddler dressed in a darling dress who adores every species of baby animal. Were I able to encounter an analogue of a baby animal I would probably harbour the deep desire to give it a good kick simply because it's soft and squishy. I've been led to believe that a soft, marshmallow texture is best because too many boys in high school tried to impress us girls by proclaiming they broke their hand by punching a wall. There were real casts though and everybody agreed it was just a bit stupid.