The Why-I-Hate-WordPress List

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Okay. These are the reasons I haven’t posted.

1- Writing about Delirium and Daniel is hard because emotions.

2- Writing about Delirium and Daniel is hard because memories are scrambled and I can’t find the specific dates for anything and there’s a whole block missing from ages thirteen to fourteen that I’m trying to find but can’t.

3- Whenever I write something up, it doesn’t save.

4- Whenever I write something up and it does save and I get around to posting, it decides “Hey, you know what? Fuck those extra thousand words you’ve written, I only like that single paragraph you wrote. So let’s keep that.”

5- Modelling. Which has been going well recently.

6- School. Which I really don’t feel like talking about.

7- Resume crap. Which I have nothing to show.

8- Procrastination via creepy video games. Lots of fun. Not good for sanity or schoolwork though. Or updating my blog for that matter.

9- Self destruction, through a lethal cocktail of isolation, rough unsatisfying sex and long periods of moping where I question the nature of my existence.

Aaaaaand, that’s it.

Happy Place

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Things are…okay at the moment.

I’m not failing school (currently).

I have friends who, for some reason, put up with my shit despite everything and seem to genuinely care about me.

I have two modelling jobs this weekend, and a few more later next month.

My parents aren’t cursing me for being in a good mood….at the moment.

My brother doesn’t steal my things anymore. Probably because I am lacking in things to actually steal, but that’s beside the point.

I’ve found joy in writing and drawing once again.

I have some amount of measurable intelligence which will get me through 2CD Mathematics.

I haven’t yet stuffed up my ball gown. And I’ve finished the bodice already and it looks good fitted on me, albeit very slutty sans the skirt.

I actually have a date to the ball (thank you God).

I’m slightly better looking than a dishrag.

I was described as Dita Von Tease x Jennifer Lawrence x Luna Lovegood, which is enough to satisfy my vanity for one day, though it’s probably far from true.

My hair is fucking amazing.

I don’t have breakdowns every day.

And I have some reason to believe that no matter what, I’ll be okay on my own.

So that’s good. Because for now, things feel worth surviving for.

And I haven’t even been out on meds yet.