Our society is messed up. It's based around reputation and popularity. Genuinity goes out the window. it's a trend to be a fuck boy, it's the fashion to wear as tight and less clothes as possible. Stepping out your door without make up is rare for females. Relationships are called cheesy and dumb and finding loyalty is rare.
We see everything through our phones, we destroy nature and make everything hard and mechanic, consuming ourselves in technology.
We always have to work harder and better, then follow the exact same path as everyone else, anything other than the conventional is not appreciated yet standing out is expected.
Subjects are made harder every year without giving the teachers training and fitting more and more into an ever decreasing amount of time. Family time consists of special occasions ad friends lie and bitch and hate and are fake, then they leave when it suits them.
Mental illnesses are expected yet no one has any idea how to really help because no one takes the time to get to know you for anything other than their own pleasure. 57% of people are treated for mental health problems with drugs only and this figure is increasing
Confidence is based on how many likes you get on a picture, you have to be called you're beautiful a million times before even considering you may not be ugly, but one bad name and you believe it and allow it to overwhelm you and become part of who you are, because although being happy in your own skin is encouraged, if you accept yourself you are vain.
Everyday you face impossible problems with no easy solution and if it isn't perfect, if it doesn't fit with the mark scheme or social norms then you are a failure.
I'm so fucking fed up of it, we live in a society full of judgements, you either judge or be judged. People will promise you they'll solve it, put them in the same situation and they'll do nothing different out of fear of becoming an individual instead of one of a crowd.
We live in a world where the president is voted depending on who is the best out of the worst, not who will do the most.
Saturday, 12 November 2016
Tuesday, 4 October 2016
Update 2
I've always been skinny, it wasn't something I thought much about until year 4/5.
I started being called anorexic, I had little remarks pointing out how underweight I was, it was true; I ate toddler sized meals, I was a fussy eater, skipped meals, but when I started being bullied it made me even worse. I'd be the first out the changing rooms, I'd feel sick at the sight of food, I offered to be a playground buddy so I didn't have to face the lunch hall, I lied to my parents about what I ate, I just couldn't force myself to ear, the sight of it made me feel sick.
When I got to secondary school there was less remarks, but till everyone would say how lucky I was to be so skinny and if I complained Id be told to shut up and go eat a burger', I was described as fragile, delicate, weak.
When I had my first serious boyfriend it ended badly, he was quite horrible and turned my year group against me, accusing me of being a slut, even though he had been the one to force me to be intimate with him (which later effected my willingness to be intimate in later relationships). He made many remarks about my weight and because I felt so powerless I ended up self harming for a while, I felt so alone and debated whether there was any point of my existence anyway.
I still feel the effects of being underweight, people think you are just self-conscious but there are so many other effects: you feel weak, your immunity is poor, you are cold all the time, god knows how difficult it is trying to find a dress.
Today we looked at eating disorders and it bought it all back, all the names, the painful memories, the feelings and emotions.
But I know I can get through it, just like all of you can.
I started being called anorexic, I had little remarks pointing out how underweight I was, it was true; I ate toddler sized meals, I was a fussy eater, skipped meals, but when I started being bullied it made me even worse. I'd be the first out the changing rooms, I'd feel sick at the sight of food, I offered to be a playground buddy so I didn't have to face the lunch hall, I lied to my parents about what I ate, I just couldn't force myself to ear, the sight of it made me feel sick.
When I got to secondary school there was less remarks, but till everyone would say how lucky I was to be so skinny and if I complained Id be told to shut up and go eat a burger', I was described as fragile, delicate, weak.
When I had my first serious boyfriend it ended badly, he was quite horrible and turned my year group against me, accusing me of being a slut, even though he had been the one to force me to be intimate with him (which later effected my willingness to be intimate in later relationships). He made many remarks about my weight and because I felt so powerless I ended up self harming for a while, I felt so alone and debated whether there was any point of my existence anyway.
I still feel the effects of being underweight, people think you are just self-conscious but there are so many other effects: you feel weak, your immunity is poor, you are cold all the time, god knows how difficult it is trying to find a dress.
Today we looked at eating disorders and it bought it all back, all the names, the painful memories, the feelings and emotions.
But I know I can get through it, just like all of you can.
Saturday, 1 October 2016
Update 1
So it's been a busy few days...
I went to auditions and Bruce came. Bruce is a guy I have known for years, we dated briefly once but never since, he's attracted to me and I am to him. When we meet up we kiss, but he doesn't want a relationship. It's driving me crazy because everyday I look out for him, only for him to barely acknowledge me, I think 'Fuckkkk why is he so hot' and I just want to be with him but he doesn't, at least not like that. He came and he got me in so much shit with my friends, quietly mentioning an embarrassing secret and making someone believe I'd called them a slut... I ask myself why the hell do I still give him the time of day? But I can't get over him, partly because it's never off the table and partly because I don't want to go back into having no guy at all, It's a lonely world out there guys. I wish some of you would comment, give me your advise or tell me about you.
The audition went ok apart from that, the usual scared year 7's and the year 9's that think their 18 and the antisocial sixth formers, only there for a main part or volunteering hours to boost their personal statement (don't get me started on that evil). I discovered I should never pretend to be drunk singing... ever... I sound like I'm drowning.
Last night I went to a party, surprisingly the shit effected me this time. So many people were crying though so I had to sober up quite quick to make up for it, not before being questioned about my ex though. Troy slept near me and I did not feel comfortable in the slightest, he stroked my thigh and through clothes poked his manhood on my arse... not nice. Also sat through Scream, a horror I actually could watch all the way through.
This morning I was up and visiting my uncle by 10, he's still struggling with his depression... we all are since the 3 family deaths in 3 months, it's so hard to see everyone like that. A couple nights ago I couldn't stop dreaming about my aunt in the hospital bed, so withered and helpless, I can't escape the image, I continue to carry the weight of the deaths, I can't get over them at all. This was the reason for the scrapbook I made mum for her birthday next week, it was expensive and time consuming but God knows we need a pick me up.
I went ice skating, the freedom felt so good I didn't want to stop, I love losing myself in the flow of it, feeling the sharp air against my cheek and my feet glide across the ice with my ankles throbbing. I wish I could do it more.
Until next time my angels.
I went to auditions and Bruce came. Bruce is a guy I have known for years, we dated briefly once but never since, he's attracted to me and I am to him. When we meet up we kiss, but he doesn't want a relationship. It's driving me crazy because everyday I look out for him, only for him to barely acknowledge me, I think 'Fuckkkk why is he so hot' and I just want to be with him but he doesn't, at least not like that. He came and he got me in so much shit with my friends, quietly mentioning an embarrassing secret and making someone believe I'd called them a slut... I ask myself why the hell do I still give him the time of day? But I can't get over him, partly because it's never off the table and partly because I don't want to go back into having no guy at all, It's a lonely world out there guys. I wish some of you would comment, give me your advise or tell me about you.
The audition went ok apart from that, the usual scared year 7's and the year 9's that think their 18 and the antisocial sixth formers, only there for a main part or volunteering hours to boost their personal statement (don't get me started on that evil). I discovered I should never pretend to be drunk singing... ever... I sound like I'm drowning.
Last night I went to a party, surprisingly the shit effected me this time. So many people were crying though so I had to sober up quite quick to make up for it, not before being questioned about my ex though. Troy slept near me and I did not feel comfortable in the slightest, he stroked my thigh and through clothes poked his manhood on my arse... not nice. Also sat through Scream, a horror I actually could watch all the way through.
This morning I was up and visiting my uncle by 10, he's still struggling with his depression... we all are since the 3 family deaths in 3 months, it's so hard to see everyone like that. A couple nights ago I couldn't stop dreaming about my aunt in the hospital bed, so withered and helpless, I can't escape the image, I continue to carry the weight of the deaths, I can't get over them at all. This was the reason for the scrapbook I made mum for her birthday next week, it was expensive and time consuming but God knows we need a pick me up.
I went ice skating, the freedom felt so good I didn't want to stop, I love losing myself in the flow of it, feeling the sharp air against my cheek and my feet glide across the ice with my ankles throbbing. I wish I could do it more.
Until next time my angels.
Wednesday, 28 September 2016
New beginnings
It's tough being a teenage girl in a world of masked identities, spilling secrets into the air and never seeing the person behind the mask.
We all wear them, they all have detailed, intricate features we create from scraps of the media and how we want to be seen. The only way we can empty our feelings is to pour them out into our mind in a way that makes you want to rip your hair out, every... single... day.
They give you this bullshit about how your friends are there for you, but to what extent? Enough to make us feel fulfilled and make us feel like the masks we wear is who we are.
I don't know how to write what I want to say, I'm no English student, my grammar is barely adequate and thank the lord for spell check because without it this blog would look like my dog had just laid on my keyboard. I guess I just want to prove a point, that, quite frankly, we're all fucked, no matter what we write, we still remain in this screwed up society where we'll grow up to resent our parents, hate our jobs, compare every single detail to other people's better lives and dream of the good ol' days.
My mask is Marie, that is all you'll know of me, a fake name with no real origin. I am a messed up 17 year old with arsehole friends, no boyfriend/girlfriend and a crazy arse family. I go to school, I work, I seem to have a life when really I just want to spend my days napping, eating junk and netflixing... basically every girl I know then really.
I want to connect with you, the real you, not the version you show to the world wherever you are, but the real you, flaws, scars and all. Just like I'll be showing you, that is if you haven't died from boredom or fallen into a fit of depression by reading this.
But seriously, just give me a chance, ok?
We all wear them, they all have detailed, intricate features we create from scraps of the media and how we want to be seen. The only way we can empty our feelings is to pour them out into our mind in a way that makes you want to rip your hair out, every... single... day.
They give you this bullshit about how your friends are there for you, but to what extent? Enough to make us feel fulfilled and make us feel like the masks we wear is who we are.
I don't know how to write what I want to say, I'm no English student, my grammar is barely adequate and thank the lord for spell check because without it this blog would look like my dog had just laid on my keyboard. I guess I just want to prove a point, that, quite frankly, we're all fucked, no matter what we write, we still remain in this screwed up society where we'll grow up to resent our parents, hate our jobs, compare every single detail to other people's better lives and dream of the good ol' days.
My mask is Marie, that is all you'll know of me, a fake name with no real origin. I am a messed up 17 year old with arsehole friends, no boyfriend/girlfriend and a crazy arse family. I go to school, I work, I seem to have a life when really I just want to spend my days napping, eating junk and netflixing... basically every girl I know then really.
I want to connect with you, the real you, not the version you show to the world wherever you are, but the real you, flaws, scars and all. Just like I'll be showing you, that is if you haven't died from boredom or fallen into a fit of depression by reading this.
But seriously, just give me a chance, ok?
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