Sep. 23rd, 2012

whereareyougoingstanley: (sectumsempra)
i decided to write this poem today about being at home because people keep going on at me about how i'm "never at home" and i remember in year 8 when i read that book about the girl who didn't like going home because her padre beat her (which is awful and completely terrible) (and i feel like a bit of a knuckleheadmcspazzatron for not liking being at home sometimes when my life is nothing at all like that level of bad)and i wondered what that would feel like because i really liked being at home at the time...
well yeah
everyone just says it in that somewhat jovial matter but i donno those sorts of things just get to me
and no one ever seems to realise that, which sort of makes it worse i think? i donno i mean i would just like to think that it would occur to people that constantly calling me a deserter or a never at home person in a complaining/ oh rebecca why do you do that you're so terrible tone would make me feel bad. and that constantly looking at my face and telling me how i should fix my skin and 'oh your skin looks good today' or 'oh your skin looks bad today' etc. like aj ieofwopeia WHY WOULDN'T THAT MAKE ME FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE!??!?!?!!
ajwoie fpoawiejwa
i mean i know i know i know i know that they just do it because they are trying to be encouraging/helpful and because they care but
it's really
i just feel completely judged by all of these external things
all of the time
and ONLY by my family
it's like the rest of the world thinks i'm this great amazing person and
they just only see the bad things
and i know that's because they're my family
and that other people can't exactly go around telling me 'oh rebecca i heard your dad had to wash your gym clothes three times to get the smell out, getting pretty sweaty eh??'
haha :P
that would be weird :P hehe
ajo wfpwe
it just
gets me down.....
and today
i was feeling so so so so so happy and so amazing and i walked down queen street and i actually could think about the future and feel happy and i thought about kate and how much i love her and i bought everyone a little present and i was on top of the world :)
and then
as soon as i got home i immediately felt awful
and i nearly cried
and i couldn't really figure out why
but then i i donno i realised that this place sort of drains me sometimes
and that makes me sad
but well i don't really know what to do about it......


anyway, i will put up the poem now haha :P
i'll make it a seperate post because this is getting very long :P
whereareyougoingstanley: (a matching exterior)
On the inside

One of life's less pleasant phenomena
is the amazing capacity for doors to affect one's mood.
For instance,
inside a particular door one may find continual questioning
about why one chooses to spend so very much time
outside it.
The root cause can seem untraceable,
the accused them-self completely unaware
that it was even happening at all.
And yet,
to the trained eye it is all too apparent
how the mood drops
as they cross the threshold.
That suddenly the most glorious example
of personality
and drive
and dedication
and skill
and happiness
to everyone outside the door
no longer holds any presence,
once they get inside.
On the contrary,
there is nothing very much they can do
to stop displeasing the people
in there.

No one really gets them
inside the door
no one really approves of what they like,
and even when they've tried until they're sore but they're triumphant
or if their heart is bleeding and it just won't stop,

they don't say anything.

No glory, no hurt, no goals do they share.
Inside the door,
no one cares.

It might not seem like it
to someone perching on the porch.
I guess we're all smiles in public.
But if you want to know the reason
why opening that door is so hard
and so unappealing,
listen at the walls
on the inside of the door,
and you won't be asking any-more.


and now i'm going to tidy my room haha :)


whereareyougoingstanley: (Default)

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