Even the girl that was nice to me few days earlier and trusted me and told me what she feels (I can easily tell you that last year, the girls who stayed in my school since the first grades, knows for sure, that trusting and sharing is one of the worst things, we would constantly be in secrets, in hatred to death, but that what happens when you are already boiling with anger at each other, each tiny thing, opens to become a world war, Hiroshima and Negaski occured weekely), and now, she hates me.
Well, today, at gym, at the second lesson (on the first one we watched Remember The Titans), we played dodgeball after ridiculous warm up (it always looks funny), on the second round, I blasted out her.
And, it would be one thing.
But I threw it hard.
And, since I'm partly insane with any fucking hormone that my body can make (if I'd find a way to use my blood as a drug, I would have no problem with syringes, and will make it), the endrophins did nothing good to me, and the best example, is, fire in my eyes and slightly evil smile.
Sports lately put out the competitive side of me.
I felt sorry.
Sorry for being alive.
Because I'm a mistake.
A planned one.
It's the worth.
Imagine those expriment mice (I held one and they are adorable!), just, that, I'm one.
I'm the first child.
It means all tests are up on me.
I'm creating the route my siblings should follow.
But why?
I don't know what have I done that made me the first girl of that odd DNA combination, but now I can't take it back.
So I can only dream escaping.
Because my mother hates me.
My father is rarely here.
I can hear their daily fights and arguemets all the time.
Can't they just decide already?
Like, would you go to some failing couple therapy or just divorce?
This shit is going on my nerves
I want parents that actually make enough for living like the other kids, and parents that are almost never here.
Sometimes I wish it could already end.
All problems.
All questions.
All dilemas.
All fights.
Just give me the answer, because right now you let me be hagning on the barely honest truth you gave me.
...
Okay, I got it, I'm the least favorite child.
You don't have to remind me it.
Actually, I'm not even can be catagroized in the favoriteness.
Because I bet my parents are dying to make an instant abortion on me.
Though I'm alive.
You know.
I'm doing everything I've been told.
And it's not enough.
And it's never enough.
And even my dad starts to hate me.
Everybody will hate me if it's going that way it is.
You might hate me, and I won't know it.
But you at least show sign you care.
You actually give me some attention.
Something I missed getting.
I don't get attention anymore.
So I'm talking too much on whatsapp group.
Because even if they tell me to shut up.
They cared enough to look.
Something my family stopped doing.
....
It was dinner.
And my sister and I joked a lot, we got closer since the renovation.
My mother calls me ADHD.
And once when I was talking she just yelled at me to shut up!
How fucking great.
An OCD parent won't support her daughter, will hate her, and call her ADHD all the fucking time.
How fucking great life!
Seriously, the joy is fucking pouring out of me.
....
And she wants me to stay in Israel, my dad won't mind though.
Like yeah, I will support "my" "Jewish" "brothers" and will help "Israel".
I don't have a whole religion I don't believe in as a family, they are not Jewish, they are fucking evil, and the only brother that I have is Lev, I won't support Israel as long as religion controls.
THIS IS FUCKING BECOMING 2014.
NO PROGGRESS SO FAR.
...
So tomorrow will be something that many many depressing instagrammers like to count.
A week since last time.
I don't value the time between.
Like it's a break point to another.
It doesn't really matter.
It just happens and I'm okay with it.
But as I'm always doing, making it for the best.
Like something that will let me to that and this and all those things.
It's like injuries.
It happens, you can prevent it, but rather not to, and you don't mind, so yes, it will leave ugly mark on you, and you'll remember it forever, it happened, and that's it, you can't take it back.
.....
I should let this weekend become my nice soundhound full ear exprience.
Because, my lyric memorizing skills are below that good ones I had.
So, why not?
I wonder just by what order to do it.
Genre (something I'm doing at the moment), artist, name, time, I don't really know, but this is what I should start it.
Maybe I should go all "wild" and put shuffle.
Weird.
Actually.
Weirdest one ever.
My most played song is Don't You Worry Child, the acoustic version.
Well, it kind of obvious since my nighty traveling to tearland.
Where you can cry shamelessly for a while, and on the moment you're back, you can hate yourself and insult yourself again.
But still, how came it to be 27?
Like, have I really stopped hearing music like I used to since school?
Fuck school.
I want to go to that magical CD store.
Until the next time I'll accidently enter one, it will pass a really long while.
If there will be one.
Because this is super rare to find one, with newer ones.
Because, I don't know, something gives me the feeling it's all old when only the changing ones are of pop, and some holiday cards.
This is really weird.
The idea of music stores are probably bizzare to Israel.
It would be cool.
Like that and the famous people that will publish new one can make more money and fans and fame while going to sign on those and stuff!
The closest thing to this is Kino, the videogame/movie renting one on my street.
We don't have such a thing, called, music places.
The most things that relate to any form of music, is that instrument store.
I hate it, and love it.
I love it because I bought my guitar from the same store in the neighbor city.
I hate it because less than a month after I bought it, they opened the same store in my street!
FUCKING ANNOYING.
WHY WOULD YOU BE SO EVIL.
I WAS ONLY TEN.
WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU.
EVIL BASTARDS.
THINKING IT'S OKAY TO ANNOY A CHILD.
It's really weird.
I wish they'll open one, and I'll go working there!
It will be a dream coming true.
Finally, a job, that you'll meet people (and epic hipster hunting!), and your only work is to put things in their place and keep it nice, and listen to music, and to sell things.
And the most of outfit will probably be a shirt that will match the spirit of the place, or a pin.
*chills passes through my body, half excitemnt, half the fact it's freezing*
I.
WANT.
A.
HIRING.
PLACE.
IN.
MY.
STREET.
THAT.
WON'T.
BE.
SHITTY.
AND.
WILL.
SELL.
CD'S.
MERCHANDISE.
AND.
WILL.
LET.
ME.
LAUGH.
REALLY.
LOUDLY.
WHEN.
I'LL.
SEE.
BUNCH.
OF.
GIRLS.
SCREAMING.
FROM.
EXCITMENT.
ON.
A.
FUCKING.
NOTEBOOK.
BEACUSE.
IT'S.
THEIR.
FAVORITE.
BAND/SINGER.
It happened once.
I'm scarred forever.
Seing bunch of girls (Religous, I know it by their skirt), screaming, in a fucking bookstore, about some pop culture thing.
This is inappopriate.
Nobody srceams like that.
Even I didn't when I found the first book with Patch, and Norra (or as I like to refer it to, Mrs. Beady!), it was pure joy, to find things you can't find in a library.
OKAY.
WHAT IF THEY'LL PUT A MUSIC STAND IN THE FUCKING LIBRARY?!
I already like the library.
But this?
This is a gift from the gods of literture (I watched recently that line that Stephanie Mayer send that the gods of books sent her to write Twilight and when JK Rowling heard about that she said "I didn't send anybody")
I like that sense of humor.
I believe that the gods of headscratching sent me.
Or Jamel.
Jamel can send me too.
....
I need attention.
I'm going to watch TV until I'll be too tired for even breathing.
Good, night, people, I really, like, to, put, those, and, make your, reading, way, slower.
I hate the word way.
It was in the name of our English book.
I hate English books.
One that the school made, was writing about a story about a model, that explains her life shortly and with simple words, and tells that she doesn't eat so much so she won't get fat.
Our school, to me, is the center for wanorexics.
Like me.
Just that I'm a failing wanorexic.
Berries, Survivors,
I hope you'll make it.
Well, today, at gym, at the second lesson (on the first one we watched Remember The Titans), we played dodgeball after ridiculous warm up (it always looks funny), on the second round, I blasted out her.
And, it would be one thing.
But I threw it hard.
And, since I'm partly insane with any fucking hormone that my body can make (if I'd find a way to use my blood as a drug, I would have no problem with syringes, and will make it), the endrophins did nothing good to me, and the best example, is, fire in my eyes and slightly evil smile.
Sports lately put out the competitive side of me.
I felt sorry.
Sorry for being alive.
Because I'm a mistake.
A planned one.
It's the worth.
Imagine those expriment mice (I held one and they are adorable!), just, that, I'm one.
I'm the first child.
It means all tests are up on me.
I'm creating the route my siblings should follow.
But why?
I don't know what have I done that made me the first girl of that odd DNA combination, but now I can't take it back.
So I can only dream escaping.
Because my mother hates me.
My father is rarely here.
I can hear their daily fights and arguemets all the time.
Can't they just decide already?
Like, would you go to some failing couple therapy or just divorce?
This shit is going on my nerves
I want parents that actually make enough for living like the other kids, and parents that are almost never here.
Sometimes I wish it could already end.
All problems.
All questions.
All dilemas.
All fights.
Just give me the answer, because right now you let me be hagning on the barely honest truth you gave me.
...
Okay, I got it, I'm the least favorite child.
You don't have to remind me it.
Actually, I'm not even can be catagroized in the favoriteness.
Because I bet my parents are dying to make an instant abortion on me.
Though I'm alive.
You know.
I'm doing everything I've been told.
And it's not enough.
And it's never enough.
And even my dad starts to hate me.
Everybody will hate me if it's going that way it is.
You might hate me, and I won't know it.
But you at least show sign you care.
You actually give me some attention.
Something I missed getting.
I don't get attention anymore.
So I'm talking too much on whatsapp group.
Because even if they tell me to shut up.
They cared enough to look.
Something my family stopped doing.
....
It was dinner.
And my sister and I joked a lot, we got closer since the renovation.
My mother calls me ADHD.
And once when I was talking she just yelled at me to shut up!
How fucking great.
An OCD parent won't support her daughter, will hate her, and call her ADHD all the fucking time.
How fucking great life!
Seriously, the joy is fucking pouring out of me.
....
And she wants me to stay in Israel, my dad won't mind though.
Like yeah, I will support "my" "Jewish" "brothers" and will help "Israel".
I don't have a whole religion I don't believe in as a family, they are not Jewish, they are fucking evil, and the only brother that I have is Lev, I won't support Israel as long as religion controls.
THIS IS FUCKING BECOMING 2014.
NO PROGGRESS SO FAR.
...
So tomorrow will be something that many many depressing instagrammers like to count.
A week since last time.
I don't value the time between.
Like it's a break point to another.
It doesn't really matter.
It just happens and I'm okay with it.
But as I'm always doing, making it for the best.
Like something that will let me to that and this and all those things.
It's like injuries.
It happens, you can prevent it, but rather not to, and you don't mind, so yes, it will leave ugly mark on you, and you'll remember it forever, it happened, and that's it, you can't take it back.
.....
I should let this weekend become my nice soundhound full ear exprience.
Because, my lyric memorizing skills are below that good ones I had.
So, why not?
I wonder just by what order to do it.
Genre (something I'm doing at the moment), artist, name, time, I don't really know, but this is what I should start it.
Maybe I should go all "wild" and put shuffle.
Weird.
Actually.
Weirdest one ever.
My most played song is Don't You Worry Child, the acoustic version.
Well, it kind of obvious since my nighty traveling to tearland.
Where you can cry shamelessly for a while, and on the moment you're back, you can hate yourself and insult yourself again.
But still, how came it to be 27?
Like, have I really stopped hearing music like I used to since school?
Fuck school.
I want to go to that magical CD store.
Until the next time I'll accidently enter one, it will pass a really long while.
If there will be one.
Because this is super rare to find one, with newer ones.
Because, I don't know, something gives me the feeling it's all old when only the changing ones are of pop, and some holiday cards.
This is really weird.
The idea of music stores are probably bizzare to Israel.
It would be cool.
Like that and the famous people that will publish new one can make more money and fans and fame while going to sign on those and stuff!
The closest thing to this is Kino, the videogame/movie renting one on my street.
We don't have such a thing, called, music places.
The most things that relate to any form of music, is that instrument store.
I hate it, and love it.
I love it because I bought my guitar from the same store in the neighbor city.
I hate it because less than a month after I bought it, they opened the same store in my street!
FUCKING ANNOYING.
WHY WOULD YOU BE SO EVIL.
I WAS ONLY TEN.
WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU.
EVIL BASTARDS.
THINKING IT'S OKAY TO ANNOY A CHILD.
It's really weird.
I wish they'll open one, and I'll go working there!
It will be a dream coming true.
Finally, a job, that you'll meet people (and epic hipster hunting!), and your only work is to put things in their place and keep it nice, and listen to music, and to sell things.
And the most of outfit will probably be a shirt that will match the spirit of the place, or a pin.
*chills passes through my body, half excitemnt, half the fact it's freezing*
I.
WANT.
A.
HIRING.
PLACE.
IN.
MY.
STREET.
THAT.
WON'T.
BE.
SHITTY.
AND.
WILL.
SELL.
CD'S.
MERCHANDISE.
AND.
WILL.
LET.
ME.
LAUGH.
REALLY.
LOUDLY.
WHEN.
I'LL.
SEE.
BUNCH.
OF.
GIRLS.
SCREAMING.
FROM.
EXCITMENT.
ON.
A.
FUCKING.
NOTEBOOK.
BEACUSE.
IT'S.
THEIR.
FAVORITE.
BAND/SINGER.
It happened once.
I'm scarred forever.
Seing bunch of girls (Religous, I know it by their skirt), screaming, in a fucking bookstore, about some pop culture thing.
This is inappopriate.
Nobody srceams like that.
Even I didn't when I found the first book with Patch, and Norra (or as I like to refer it to, Mrs. Beady!), it was pure joy, to find things you can't find in a library.
OKAY.
WHAT IF THEY'LL PUT A MUSIC STAND IN THE FUCKING LIBRARY?!
I already like the library.
But this?
This is a gift from the gods of literture (I watched recently that line that Stephanie Mayer send that the gods of books sent her to write Twilight and when JK Rowling heard about that she said "I didn't send anybody")
I like that sense of humor.
I believe that the gods of headscratching sent me.
Or Jamel.
Jamel can send me too.
....
I need attention.
I'm going to watch TV until I'll be too tired for even breathing.
Good, night, people, I really, like, to, put, those, and, make your, reading, way, slower.
I hate the word way.
It was in the name of our English book.
I hate English books.
One that the school made, was writing about a story about a model, that explains her life shortly and with simple words, and tells that she doesn't eat so much so she won't get fat.
Our school, to me, is the center for wanorexics.
Like me.
Just that I'm a failing wanorexic.
Berries, Survivors,
I hope you'll make it.
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