The second most horrible thing: shopping with (two) insane women. I had to try on at lest 50 item of clothing just to make them happy. I hate, and I repeat, I hate trying on clothes. Especially if the shop smells funny, and I mean... not the kind of smell of new clothes, but...
Well, there are smells like the smell of a new car and so on, and the shop smelled kind of like that. And my stomach gets upset at the smell of new cars... and smells like that. So I nearly threw up a few times, and still I hat to try on some ridiculous stuff.

I got a skirt (warmer than the usual) long and black, a warm, soft, black pullover, a green handbag (I hate handbags, but what the hell, my aunt wanted to buy me one anyway, I had to chose one.) a few really, really nice shirts (The you may invite me for a coke... - more to come about these...) and... a coat.
I just couldn't say no. And when I was allowed to go and buy myself a drink, everything was closed. I wanted to murder these... ignorants tyrants.

Well, as compensation we sat outside on a terrace, drank fruit juice and talked about... clothing... bahh. After that we went and visited the Dali exhibition, where I bought a few bookmarks for my (step)cousin and me. Then I got home and had to try on my new clothes to parade around so they can congratualte themselves of how lucky I was to have them.
Then I wanted to sleep but I was kicked out of the room when a relative phoned them on skype, and when I went back they were yelling into the mic so they can talk...

And when I could have slept, some friends of my relatives came over, and I was dragged off to talk with the pretty pink clothed blonde girls... because we got to have a girl party.
There I had to listen to their woes of nail polish issues, what hair color would look best, who slept whith whom and who's boyfriend, and... high heelend shoes. I really, really felt out of my element and would have gladly run out of the world. I hate pink, I hate blondes (artificial, that is, because they are the stooopid ones), and I could feel my IQ descending on long steps down to reach theirs. Yuck. Yucky yuck.

Then I had to try on the new shirts/blouses and show them around. Trust me, I felt really bad then. I mean... my own uncle looked at me like any other man when i wear those blouese. And one of the blonde girls said, it's not just a coke they may invite me to, but a full course meal. Still, I really don't think I had to show *that* to my unlce.

Well, once they left I felt better and celebrated it with 4 hours of reading. My IQ felt better too.
And then... then I went to sleep! <3

I'm currently at my oncle's place. We had to come and visit him and his wife, because they have built their house, and already moved in.
Well, so far all I can say is, that it's big, you can play tag in it without fear of upturning any furniture, and it's freezing. Well, I can say that the one who made the plans has not been an architecht, because the places are kind of awkward. Furniture and doors are thrown around and there is no clean order. There are 2 tables lined up with chairs around each of them, all in the main room, so that it looks like an antique McDonalds. The furniture is verry pretty, came from an antique shop... actually, I'm green with envy at some of them, but... there is really no order. They are tall, short, taller, shorter. Kinda... funny. The color seems to match for half of it, shades varying. Funny.
The plush armchairs and the antique chairs have nothing in common. The plush stuff is ultra modern with a light khakhiish cream color, all straight lines and looking like a cubist painting, while the antique furniture is art deco and baroque... and all between.
Well... gotta dash. I'll have to sing an ode to their new flat. How pleasant.

Back to square one. My mother is a royal bitch, and it was no friggin approvement on her part that she maybe started getting saner.
She stayed as mad as she was and she sure as hell should have been accepted to the ward so that she could be locked up properly away from sane people, from me she loves to hurt and there she should have learnt a little humility. Friggin hysterical bitch as she is. Oh, I hoped so very much that she came and hurt me, so that I could go in to the police and report her, or just hit her so hard in self protection that she would never ever come close to me again - but she didn't. Too bad, really.

My father is no better now than she is. Trust me on that. As soon as he neared his fifties he gone and went properly mad. Kudos to him, but now I have two insane parents who love to unleash all their anger on me, and I have nothing, absolutely nothing to do.
Guess I'll find myself a place to sleep for today. Either grandparents or ...where? Dunno, honestly, but I'm NOT STAYING IN THIS GODDAMNED HOUSE FOR ANY LONGER!

Need more leaves

I'm all better now. Sun is shining, mother temporarily gone out, skipping class... I even started taking less medicine, which means I'll be less depressed than before.
Still, classes are tiring me out, but hey, I have more and more freetime.

Have I mentioned that I love autumn? Well, I do! It's nearing the kind of weather I just love this season! Air a bit cold, fresh and crisp, the sun shining softly, giving a lukewarm feeling when I get the full blast of it, the smell of earth and burned leaves lingering around and a sea of colorful leaves covering the sidewalk.
Rather childish of me, but I just love to walk trough the deepest pool of them, ankle-deep, scattering leaves everywhere, more so when the wind is blowing and twirl them around.
Yeah, I love autumn.

By the way, here is a wallpaper for those who are interested... I just love autumn colors.
http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/158/3/3/O/158332230O039473438.jpg

Sometimes I just have to ask myself, why do I even bother? I know people. No matter who you are, no matter what you do, you yourself are the most important, that I have realized a long ago.

Still, there are places you can see this more clearly than other places. For example a game. When they know you can't see their faces and won't recognize your classmate, the other guy on the last bus home, or your math teacher, they do the most honest things they can. They cheat, break promises, do all the things they would never do when they could be observed.

I would be amused and interested, if it weren't for a shitty day, shitty weak, and the game ruining my mood all the more. It's just so nice when people don't give a shit about you, and fuck you ten times over whenever they can. Guess either guild wars has to go, or my old guild. Right now, I dunno which one, but I don't care.

Friends will go too. Not like they don't know I know they don't give a shit about my existance, but hey, I chose those friends, I can blame only myself. Not to mention that I know they are like that. Maybe I should do them a service free of charge and tell them that yes, they are indeed petty little selfish creatures and not the all empathic all-caring friends they believe they are.

Honestly, it is much more work to nod that yes, you are so empathic, I can feel it, yes, you guessed I'm in pain because an aunt of mine died, suuuure, than saying no, you don't feel chicken poo, you insensitive wench. Deep guess. They never cared anyway.

God, I'm a miserable piece of crap. I should really get myself some new friends or a nice razor or two. I'd laugh at myself if I weren't so terribly depressed.

Raven, you bastard, you sure are taking your time.

Food!!

Yes, as the title indicates, I got my hands on some food. Why is it such a great event in my life? Lemme summarize it with a haiku:

My blood was sucked out,
my body aches, hungering;
depression ensues.

Well, that's basically it.
But what happened to my blood? Well, it was given away as samples for the docs so they can study it and decide what the hell is wrong with me. I have inherited so many illnesses from my ancestors, that it's a small miracle I'm still alive and moving. And I'm not even an inbred little princess. If I were, I would have all the money to buy books... Drool... Sigh...

Anyway. Me and food are slowly getting to know each other as I write (and stuff my face in between), and I'm happily announcing, that I stopped using Zyrtec (if only for a little while), so now I'm more awake than asleep. Woohoo! God, I see colors! I see sunlight! I'm less depressed than before. Yay!

.o¤~*°˘°*~¤o._.o¤~*°˘°*~¤o._.o¤~*°˘°*~¤o._.o¤~*°˘°*~¤o.

Oh, and Darken, thank you very much, it was nice of you to write and talk to me! ^^

Mark!! If you read this, would you be so kind to read my mail? It holds the information about my journey to London, which will happen in a few weeks time. It would be nice to know if you want to see me or not.

By the way I smoked a cigarette just now. Which I do once in every 3 years. Because my lungs are too sick to smoke regularily. But sometimes I just need to smoke, or I'd run out of the world.
God, I wish I was somewhere else.

I think, I've had a very shitty week. Friends acting like furies for seemingly no reason at all (me not getting the full swing of it but getting enough to be fed up and hurt very deeply), and a father acting like a major asshole for whatever reason he never ever told us. Not to mention the teaching practice, where they changed the rules to "ask a day earlier or you won't get in", so my day today was royally fucked up.

Not to mention, that I'm in the secondary school listening to lessons and then sitting at the uni, attending lectures from 9-10 in the mornings to 7-8 in the evenings. I am wiped out, sucked dry, stressed out and so very tired.

Add in big chunks of frustration, helplessness and a lot of hurt feelings (mine, of course), and there, voila, you've got my week. If I didn't know how big the pain would be, I'd slit my wrists. But I hate pain, so there.

Yeah, it's that bad.

Still Zombie

Writing this in haste. I'm still alive and somewhat well, but I have less and less freetime. The teaching practice teacher is a stupid, mean cow, and I'd murder her with a big, blunt object as soon as I wouldn't get years in prison for that.
The kids are cute, but it's just not my time to teach. I still have to sit at the back of the class and listen. And suffer to be criticized. I just don't get it... How would I know, how reformed church schools deal with things when I in all my teaching practice classes at thew uni and over all at the uni never encountered such a problem. And I just asked her how to deal with it, damnit. What did she say? That I should know because I'm not stupid. Well, I'm not a fucking mind reader either. I'll tell that the first chance I get.
Guess this is for now. I'm too tired to be nice, to make sense and be witty.