I’ll be more active with my new blog: http://homemade-applesauce.tumblr.com/

I know that I haven’t posted here in months, but it’s because I can’t stand to use it for the purpose that I had it in the first place. I know that I haven’t had a chance to bring anyone up to date with how the rest of my days went. It’s been dramatic and heart-warming. I’ll follow up some other time when my head is a renovated library.

How could I possibly want to see you naked if you’re explaining that I’ve never seen you before?

“Dare, I’m sorry about this. You were a wonderful friend, and I hope you lead a good life - better than mine. I love you. Bye.”

While “growing up,” I was a very passive child. Whether I was at fault or not, I would take every punishment and verbal abuse instantly - just for the sake of making things quick. From when it happened, and even up to this day, it hurts to think about why my “family” accuse me so easily. From those experiences, I feel like I’m at fault for a lot of things, and that I’m a liar. I know it’s not true, but I just feel that way. I hated that I would be struck, and I was too afraid to do anything about it. Now, there’s a part of me that wants to take that back. It’s the reason why I don’t do what my parents tell me to do. What they say is unreasonable, and I don’t want to agree with something that I disagree with. I’m not the type of person who wants to be pushed around. I’m the type of person who’s fed up with picking myself up because no one else will. At the moment, I live a domestic life that consists of people who rarely speak to me in a nurturing tone. All I hear are people who dispose their hate into me. No matter how strong I’ll be, trying is still going to make me cry.

It’s rare that I ever blog in a twelve-year-old, gaggly, girl manner, but I’ll whip out the perspective anyways.
I love how sweet he is. I love his adorable smile. I love how safe and relaxed I feel when he hugs me. I love how my arms comfortably wrap around his waist. I love how happy I made him when I confirmed that I’d be his grad escort. I love that he wasn’t afraid to have me over for supper to properly meet his parents. I love his genuine laugh. I love that he skipped with me while we walked his dog, Cookie. I love how thoughtful he is. I love when he feels for my hand. I love that he wants the best for me. I love that the most prominent kiss in mind was the first kiss he gave me on the day we became official. I love when he texts me in the morning and before bed. I love his falsetto rants. I love that he isn’t afraid to tell me he doesn’t like my favourite band, Fall Out Boy. I love that I’ve grown so used to him that I’m starting to act way more like myself in his presence. I love that I miss the scent of his sweater. I love how he instantly demonstrates such nuturing care when I cry or feel depressed. I love how we can argue but still love each other simultaneously. I love that this list is almost endless. I love that he actually tries to keep me happy.
I love that dear of mine. It’s been exactly two months that we’ve been together, and I’m still in disbelief that time is just flying by. As for him trying to make me happy, he succeeds very often.

I forgot about why I wanted to succeed in life. It wasn’t for the big bucks. It was for my passion for music. I gave “playing” music a different definition. I’ve been doing it as repetitive torture. I’ve been getting so worked up in trying to please others that I’ve been forgetting to please myself. There’s a lot of people out there whom I’ve been working projects and performances with. I’ve forgotten that the reason why they chose me to work with is because they were moved with the way I take on music. To me, now, punk rock means to be honest. Being rebellious, setting new rules, and the fashion sense of it isn’t punk rock to me. For a while now, I’ve been extremely dishonest with myself. I haven’t been playing for myself. I’ve been playing what’s beneficial for me. That’s not right. The songs that I’ve been learning to play are songs that I have to play. It’s not that I hate them, but I don’t remember the last time I heard a song and thought, “Hey, I’m totally diggin’ the bass in this song,” then sat down and started playing it. It was songs like those that I remember and learned from the most. I just have to find a balance between the passionate musician and the workaholic musician. And to add on to the “pleasing others” statement, I admit that I haven’t been giving much to myself. I’ll tend closely to that issue; even if it means spending less time with friends for a while. I know that the genuine ones will still be around.

A pair of daffodils - art assignment

I don’t understand why people still exclude others even after being educated in the matter or even already having an understanding towards it. I have a boyfriend who used to cut himself. When I first began to like him, I didn’t consider his arms to the deepness of my infatuation. I regarded it as common, because many forms of unhappiness has always been around me as I’m growing up. Whenever people know about him, they think poorly. He’s a dick, I admit (much love to him though), but to dislike him for his arms is ridiculous. Everyone feels down; some more than others. It’s not something to face spines with. I’ve been in a position where I was gradually hurting myself. I told only two people, and they both disapproved and left me. I felt more depressed alongside with loneliness. Thankfully, I still have things in life that I’m living for. Not many people realize such things as I do, though. I’m not saying my boyfriend feels this way. He’s not the object of this post. The object is the question “why” towards being selfish. Is it because it’s a “trend” to follow the public’s gospel? Is it because happiness is the only emotion that should be bathing the world? For any question of the like, all I can say is that those who use those reasons are the ones who aren’t genuine. They fit in herds instead of being themselves. To be honest, I’m not afraid to take my life. I’m only still around for the sake of giving others reasons to live life. As well, I don’t want people to grieve for me, and I still want to see the day in my life when I know my difficult past has made me into a great person. Like I said before, not many people think the way I do, and it doesn’t help when they don’t have someone to rub their scars repeatedly until they feel numb. This just bothers me a lot. There has been many people who think I deserve someone better than him. Those are just reminders of why I’m not friends with them. I love my boyfriend a lot, and what people negatively think of him more likely is what he used to be or never was. I killed a harmless bird when I was six. At the moment, I admire them. I didn’t have anything against aviaries, but it happened. Making mistakes - no matter what size - is just a part of growing up, and it shouldn’t be harder than it already is.

decaydance:

WIN A DESTROY REBUILD UNTIL GOD SHOWS PRIZE PACK!

Hey! We’re back to announce this week’s contest! I’m sure you know the deal by now, but here it is in case you don’t!

Starting today, and ending next Wednesday, if you reblog ANY of our posts, you will automatically be entered to win this awesome D.R.U.G.S. Prize Pack! This consists of a 7 inch of “Sex Life,” their album “D.R.U.G.S.” and an exclusive signed polaroid of Craig Owens!

So get your tumblr game up and  REBLOG!

Good luck everyone!