YI-fucking-PPIE!

I'm still on those websites.
I know that they aren't good.
But right now, I notice some of the other members, that I never saw them in those forums, it makes me quite sad, I loved them, and they are killing themselves, punishing themselves, and I can't do a thing.

It makes me want to be eighteen, I just see all of the legal aged ones, and I envy them.
Right now, I have to go through nights of hearing beautiful cover bands, stupid teenagers on their electric bicycles, and occasionally the arses from the building, having a karaoke party; I have to also go through a couple of years in the education ministry's plan, and probably screw everything about myself until I join the army.
I assume that I'd probably start to feel torn when I'll go through the tests the  IDF will give us on the tenth grade and up ages.


There are all kinds of stuff they say.
Yet, I won't consider my few months old self behaviour of attempting to tear off my ears in order to distract myself from the pain of my growing teeth.
Nor my treatment towards my lips (I think that they've bled around two spoons throught my life, considering that the blood that comes out from the lips is coming in small amounts, like a drop or two) or my soccer playing on defense, that caused my thighs to be colored on purple and black and blue.
Easy to say that I never cared much for my body.
Why should I start now?


Should I just set my countdown app to the 15th of April, on 2019?

4 years.
10 months.
1 day.
7 hours.
31 minutes.
50 seconds.
And counting.

It's not that bad...
I mean, it could've been worse, right?


I want my hair to grow again.
I assume that it'd be long enough until I'd celebrate my fourteenth birthday, and then I'll donate it again, and probably again at fifteen, each time when it's long enough.
After all, it's just hair, isn't it?
It doesn't matter to me, the stuff that matter to me is in electronic parts.


I cut today my nails, I assume that I won't be able to hurt my fingers while having a strange stress or fear moment, I usually dig my pinkies' nails to my ring fingers' flesh.



I don't think that I "distance" my friends away.
I don't call any friend that I have as my "best" friend, as I don't believe in it.
I have a friend that I love to hear, because that it's so nice, she will tell you everything, because she trusts you, and maybe because nobody else will hear her out.
I have a friend that fell in love with another friend of mine who absolutely hates him, and when he's around, or she'll reject him with one of her most rude words, or that she'll want to use his stuff and only them, and he can't stop loving the thing that would rather him to fucking disappear.
I have a friend that hates the one that absolutely love her, she has to gain weight, and she is so fucking mean to everybody, I use her as thinspo, and I have that need to make her feel what she'd done to him, as she's too bitchy.
I have a friend that thinks that I'm about to take away her title of being her best friend's best friend, even though I don't want to be best friends with anybody.
I had a friend that now probably wishes to me to die.

But, I don't know if I'm actually a friend for them, simply because I'm not much of a friend.
I can't console people, I can't do anything happy or good with them, not because I'm not in the mood, even though that it happens from time to time, but it's mostly because I suck at making people happy.
I can distract people, can't change their mood.
Sorry.
I'm not such a good friend.



In other news, to enlighten the atmosphere of this blog, let me show you how scene kids on tumblr work.




Those girls are from My Littlest Petshop, my sister and I had to watch it, after all, my sister wend apeshit once with those dolls.


I start to hate long signatures again, you have no idea how hard it is to read and suddenly a rant and lyrics of a song and a gifs are there.
You know what?
I love that shit,  but enough is definitely enough!

I can't find my favorite wedding gown, with the bride in a dress made of red balloons, created by her husband, while he... Well, he married in his underwear.



Some of the sigs in there are actually quite impressive, kudos to the creator of them!
I mean, it's awful as fuck, and stuff, but look about how beautiful the clouds merge in this grayscale photos.


....



I'm home alone.

I don't want to live.
I can't stand myself.
I know that it's the hormones that trigger it to be so awful, but I practically live only to be eighteen, and I dread the day that I'd be forced to join the IDF because I know that I'd find a rather large (or at least, larger than the pathetic pencil sharpeners or extra shaving razors) blades and bleed as deep as I can.
And I know that I shouldn't, but I can't understand why I live.
I know that if I'd die, it would hurt my sister.
But after all I've seen, I know that my future isn't very bright.
I hate my body, I hate my mind, what can I possibly love?

I can't live, I can't do it.
Lie everyday to everyone.
You think that it's me?
Well nope, me is a person whose competitive, moody, sarcastic, daring, and fucking unbearable.

I think I'm going to sleep or something, or at least to get some rest.



..........


No rest, I just watched some that eating disorder recovery (the one with Robert!) program.


Anyway, I just found a new way to feel even more awful with myself.

diagnosed with: depression, anorexia, schizoid personality disorder, social anxiety and schizophrenia.

An actual fourteen year old girl, who has real problems, and then there's me, the fucking fake bitch.

I love in one of the richer cities in the central area, and I whine about shit.

I know a guy that actually suffered through a severe social anxiety.

And then there's me, that probably has only hypochondria, if at all.

I feel pathetic.

There's me, without any fucking problems, and other people are actually suffering!

It's so fucking disgusting of me, I should actually commit suicide, people who are that disgusting should die.

....

I texted Dabush earlier, I found something that he really wanted, a Cintiq, thanks to some youtube digital painter who's awesome (his videos are like MB workshops / Cuberush) and he talked about it, so I heard about Cintiq.

Anyway, I noticed that he didn't reply for quite a while and I texted to him "Are you alive?", because I know my friends, all of them can really freak me out while not answering, and they are all starting to go through puberty (fucking fun, isn't it?) so, let me tell you what he answered.

"Yes, but barely."

Red flag.

I asked again: "Joking or serious?" as I may never know what he can answer.

He wrote the word I didn't want to see, "Serious".

I wrote once again "Explain Describe and {another word for explain}. Now." and he called me.

Apparently he crashed with his bike near Yael's house, and he called her for her help, and he thought I knew, because he assumed that Yael told me, because after all, she told to Guy.

By the way, Guy is her ex for a day.

Now, isn't it fucking wonderful.

I am correct, I'm a fucking awful friend, and nobody would ever want to talk to me, because they all hate me anyways...

Yi-fucking-ppie.



Goodnight guys.


I found some person to hate on MPA.
I just don't like her, something in her too preppy-pop-culture look and her attention-whore-like behaviour.
Maybe it's just me.
http://www.myproana.com/index.php/user/93605-living-monster/
Sorry if you are my reader.
But you'll probably understand it tomorrow.


Goodnight.
Once again.