Morning writing

He asks, "What are you afraid of?" I look up at him, head still in my hands, and answer honestly, for the first time in over 20 years, "Myself. I'm afraid of losing the only thing that protects me. I'm afraid of losing me." He just slides beside me, trying his best to comfort what's left after today's latest trial. I allow him access to this shell of my being. So as not to truly feel what he calls affection, I retreat further and further inside myself, pulling all the layers of protection the 23 years of my life have gifted me so snugly about my heart, I feel myself suffocate under the pressure. I want to love him. I want to receive his adoration, trust, friendship, and everything he offers me. I want to be that normal girl for him...but I'm scared of losing myself. Though I'm absolutely disgusted with myself, with my every thought and action. But for him I'll be a doll. All shiny and beautiful. Completely hollow. I won't slip up like this again.

South Korean dreams and 25

"Leave the country under the premise of “finding yourself.” This will be unsuccessful. Places do not change people. Instead, do a lot of solo drinking, read a lot of books, have sex in dirty hostels, and come home when you start to miss it."

The reason I am trying not to goto England, France, Germany, The Gambia, Sweden, Norway or any part of the U.S. is because there is always someone from my family (or family friends) in first and second world countries. I don't want to go to an "underdeveloped" country. I don't feel like volunteering right now. I've given a lot of myself up until now (time, money, more time), and I just want to do something solely for myself. I'm being selfish, really. I want to go somewhere and experience life on my own, as much as I can, without the influence of my family constantly being forced upon me. I want to drink and party and live with wild abandon! I'm going to leave this place come June, I don't care what my parents have to say, and I don't care what I have to do to get the money. SK or bust, bitches!

Read this list later 24 and under readers: http://nonexistentexit.tumblr.com/post/47614795913/25-things-to-do-before-you-turn-25-1-make-peace

My thoughts on The Fault in Our Stars...so far. (Chapter 8 and the previous)

I’m still reading The Fault in Our Stars because reading while having responsibilities and a drama addiction is kind of tricky. (Yes. I know that too much television will rot my brain, but I can understand so much more Korean because of it. It’s educational, no?) I’m only within the eighth chapter, but I already feel as if this book is going to ruin my life for two-three weeks after my reading of it comes to its conclusion. I don’t know what will happen to Hazel or Augustus—I have tried very hard to stay away from spoilers on tumblr and other various websites. I do know that I am in the midst of crying as I write this, and if that is any indication of my future emotional state, then I ask that someone please send me a box of Kleenex because I’m down to my last five? I love Mr. Green’s characters so much already, and if I have to loose them, then I’m going to have to find a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. What all of this rambling means: I’m in love with

The Stupidville Rape Case

I’m so done with rape apologists. No one calls rape upon themselves. No one deserves to be raped. No survivor should be threatened with jail time or public shame. No survivor should even have to suffer the stigma of being labelled a “victim.” Lastly, no one should feel sorry for rapists, especially not because “they had their whole lives ahead of them.” What about the young woman they raped. Did she not have a life ahead of her? Now she has to deal with press and average people calling her a slut, blaming her for her rape, and deeming her a perpetrator of her own abuse. You know what?… FUCK. YOUR. APOLOGIST. BULLSHIT.

A moment of self reflection

I still have nightmares that one day, I will wake up and one side of my face will have dropped again. As much as I try not to hold so much value on my outer appearance, my subconscious is still terrified of dealing with everything (the pain, the stares, the stigma) that comes with hemifacial paralysis. I know that other people are suffering from worse, but at this moment, I’m vulnerable and slightly scared that I have become so reliant on my “normal” appearance. This is beyond my weight or my height, of which I try (keyword: TRY) to deal with the grace of someone who just doesn’t give a fuck what society thinks, but still, I’m frightened. I’m scared because I know how much society gleans about a person just from their face, and I know that if it were to happen again, it wouldn’t come with the taunting and mocking that occurred in my childhood…but my irrational fear stems on the hurt that so many caused, though as children, they had no idea of the lasting effects.

Something should go here, right?

I've been in a bit of a slump recently, and it seems to be one that I just cannot pull my self up from. I started to write a piece on the recent influx of negative commentary from the academic world on Django last week.... It's still sitting on my desktop about 3/5 of the way finished. It's like I lose steam any time I try to write something productively. Even writing this post seems to take a level of mental focus and fortitude that I cannot muster up. It leaves me questioning my self: Am I lazy? Is this the problem? Why can't I just do what I set out to?

Muse - Plug In Baby

This song was one of my FAVOURITES from this group, right after Sing For Absolution, Time Is Running Out, and Hyper Music. Even though Stephenie Meyer ruined them (Twilight fans that like MUSE because she make me want to expel my stomach's contents, violently in a projectile fashion), they still hold some of my most beloved pre-teen/teenage memories.