So many people are dying around me, and

it's sad, and scary.

One more died last night, and this one I knew. We were at school together.

People just keep losing friends and family, while I'm not, and... I'm scared.

I'm scared that the day will come when I'll have to say goodbye to someone I truly love.

Scared that all I'll have left are memories, which will eventually turn into blank spaces....and regrets for missed opportunities and not getting to say the important things.

I don't want to lose any of you, and the thought that I'm going to have to is....I can't even find the words.

So if I send you this post....
I do love you. Wholly and intensely.
I don't want to imagine my life without you. You're part of the fabric that is me.

Stay safe...even though when your time comes there's nothing you can do to postpone it, no snooze button you can hit to give yourself a few extra years...

...And drive carefully. Too many are being killed in car accidents.

Kerry....we fell out of touch after you graduated but... RIP nonetheless.

-me.

I was reading an article I found on the Huffington Post website, and

I have learned (again) that I am an introvert.

The article is entitled 23 Signs You're secretly an Introvert. You probably may not read it, so I'll just list the points.

1. You find small talk incredibly cumbersome.

Yup. If you ask me to "tell me about yourself" I can't answer. Or "how's the weather" or "lovely weather we're having" or....when I'm at church, and it's greeting time, and I'm apprehended before I get to go outside and someone grabs me and says "God bless you"
My response: Plastic smile. And I walk away ASAP. Sooner, sometimes.

2. You go to parties-- but not to meet people.

I don't go to parties. Mostly because I'm not allowed to, but I wouldn't go even if I could. It's not xenophobia. Seriously. It's not.

3. You often feel alone in a crowd.

Do I even need to say anything more?

4. Networking makes you feel like a phony.

Yeah, I get that I need to make "links" and have "contacts" so that when I'm working my life will be a bit easier but.......I feel like it's just a means to an end and.... I'm selfish and manipulative, but not that much.

5. You've been called "too intense".

"SJ yuh extra!" (Jamaican-speak for "You's an intense kid")
I know I'm intense. That's why my feelings and I don't get along.

6. You're easily distracted.

The worst part of this is I've a 160 IQ, which makes me a genius. So I can be in class, ready to learn and be productive, and I do that for about 5 minutes and then..... "Can I go to the bathroom please?" And I trod the school, gaze a little, commune with myself and return in time for class to be dismissed.
I can be having a gazebo convo and in the middle of it I just leave cuz it's suddenly boring AF, or I just remembered a convo I need to have with myself.

7. Downtime doesn't feel unproductive to you.

Downtime is when I'm productive, actually. In the midst of the hubbub and chaos that is "uptime", I get overwhelmed and confused. I don't deal well with noise. It addles my wits and I get stupid(er)....
But when I'm home alone (like yesterday) I am happy and free and energetic.
 When my parents got home in the 6:00 hours last night, I literally felt myself sagging with exhaustion. I can't wait until tomorrow when it's me-time again.

8. Giving a talk in front of 500 people is less stressful than having to mingle with them after.

I have been in the public eye before, for an extended period of time, so I know what it's like. Being me, the having to talk in front of even 5 people makes me nervous, much more 500. It's stressful, but not as much as the mingling. Trust me.

9. When you get on the subway (taxi for us Jamaicans) you sit at the edge of the seat, not the middle.

I sit at the front of every single taxi I take. If I can't get a front seat I'm not taking the taxi. Simple.
 Except when my patience runs out and I jump in the nearest taxi that's leaving. [Not about to leave. Leaving.]

10. You start to shut down after being active for too long.

This is one reason I come home tired from school every single day.

11. You're in a relationship with an extrovert.

Yes, if you can call it a relationship. Iceburg the type of guy who, when we're walking on the town, sees everybody he knows and calls yells across the street "Yooo mi chargie wah gwaan?!?!"
I'm the type of girl who, when we're walking on the town, sees everybody I know and says to him, "If dem cyah see me mi nah call to dem enuh. Come, hide me. You tall."

12. You'd rather be an expert at one thing rather than try to do everything.

Maybe that's why I want to do a medical specialty rather than be just a GP. Idk. Maybe.

13. You actively avoid any shows that may involve audience participation.

Because really, is anything more terrifying?

14. You screen all your calls-- even from friends.

I don't answer calls, unless they're from my family, and only because they are my family.

15. You notice details that others don't.

"That design, guys.....I like how it is, especially the way they hid the flower in the middle."
"SJ...........you alone seeing this enuh."

16. You have a constantly running inner monologue.

My favorite conversation partner is myself. No one understands me like I do. :)

17. You have low blood pressure.

Actually it's normal but whatever.

18. You've been called an old soul-- since your 20s.

I'm in my teens still... but my grandma likes to say I have "an old soul in a young body"... Maybe that's why so many people believe in reincarnation?

19. You don't feel "high" from your surroundings.

No, ok? Just.....no.

20. You look at the big picture.

I try to, and I succeed most of the time anyway.

21. You've been told to "come out of your shell".

So fucking many times though.

22. You're a writer.

Clearly :)

23. You alternate between phases of work and solitude, and periods of social activity.

Maybe that's why some days I just randomly retreat from everybody at school and enter silent mode.



Sooo.......big up Huffington Post for the article, and big up mandevillegirl who linked to it in her post. Y'all the real MVPs.

Introverted-ly,

-me.

05: Your views on religion

So it's exam time, which means I'll have more time to do these challenges...but then I might not, cuz I may just decide to be a productive 6th former and actually study. I dunno. Let's see how that works out.

My views on religion are, it seems, unique. I haven't spoken to or read about anyone else with these views or even anything remotely similar. Except Jav. He's special.
 Yes Jav. Skin teet galang. You are spesh. :*

DISCLAIMER: If you's the gullible type, getting slung round by any breeze that blows, read no further.  If you decide to read on, I take no responsibility for you suddenyl questioning your beliefs. OK? Moving on.

Religion is vital to society. Let me just admit that right off the bat. The laws of every country are based on religious teachings, especially the 10 commandments.Religion is what prevents anarchy, because, as my grandma likes to say, "Rule dung a hell" and what is society compared to hell?

Religion is indispensable. Everyone's morals are religion-based. Even atheists'. Even mine.
"I can't kill someone, my conscience would murder me."  I draw your attention to the commandment which states Thou shalt not kill. Conclusions? Form your own.

But it's this same un-do-without-ability of religion that makes me think of it as some world-class brainwashing. I'm talking some high-quality, first-class second-to-none brainscrubbing.  Look at the Muslims, especially those guys in ISIS (who frankly terrify me). They were taught all their lives that the rest of us are infidels who should be eradicated because we don't praise Allah.
 But then don't Jews and Christians teach their kids a different wording of the same idea?? 

Anyway. You gotta spread the subliminal idea of "There's a man/woman/men/women upstairs who's watching you, and will punish you severely if you disobey these laws we've set out for you to follow" to keep everyone docile and obedient. Fear is an excellent way to keep peace and order, y'know. There's a reason dictators rule by fear.

Conveniently, no one has ever truly seen this deity. Said deity is allegedly away up yonder, in a land where only the dead can travel to... but the dead tell no tales, remember?

Notice I've been careful to talk only about religion. That's because this is a very controversial topic and I'm well aware that a few of my readers are, for lack of a better word, Jesus-freaks. Show them a different perspective (or try to, anyway) and they're ready to fly down your throat for their Lord.
So I'm not gonna say a single thing about God. I did, in my very first post on this blog entitled Deus and I will say no more, 'less dem try fly dung my throat and dem a nuh crackers suh is bare problem that woulda be.

I dunno. See, I'm the type of person who questions things. Everything. 
If we talk on a certain level, you'll realize that my questions invariably start with "Why" or "How" or "What if".
I've got an investigative/analytical mind. Meaning I think like a scientist. I ask questions, formulate hypotheses, experiment and draw conclusions. So if I ask "Does God exist?" I'm gonna need tangible proof that either S/He does or not. And I have none.

Naturally, my first reaction is to not believe. But then I'm from a family of staunch religionists  and so have been churchified for 17 years. That refuses to be discounted, so I find that I neither affirm nor deny the existence of God.

I'm trying to word this in such a way that I don't blaspheme. Theophobia and all...

But yeah. A few years ago, there was this rumor spread around my friends that "Fuck, she nuh believe inna God, dawg!" and of course the ostracism began to pile up. [See? Brainwashing.] It took months for me to convince them that "I don't not believe. I also don't believe." which, to this day, earns me strange looks.

Combating brainwashing is hard. Just so you know.

But I don't care. I must be me at all costs.

I once called myself an agnostic, and I guess in a way I am, but I've realized that I don't fit into any one clear-cut category belief-wise.

There's rules and exceptions in everything, and if you're the rule and I'm the exception then... suh life guh. C'est la vie.

Except I hate having unanswered questions, especially one like this, because it has me living in a vacuum, and c'est most definitely cannot be la vie ('scuse the mangled French) because Nature itself abhors a vaccum, which has  been proved.
Life most definitely cannot guh suh.

Challenge completed.

Going against the grain of grains,

-me.

04: Your views on drugs and alcohol

I made abstract reference to this in my last post, I believe, but let me just quantify my views and beliefs on this.

Drugs are......necessary in some cases. You have your antidepressants, your cold medicine, your sleeping pills.....

I guess what I want to say is that drugs are an important aspect of life.  They "happify" you, put you to bed, wake you up....pretty much do everything for you that you probably can't do yourself.

But as is usually the case, too much of a good thing is bad. So here we have the flip side of the coin, where you have addiction, which leads to crime, which leads to general fuck-up-tion of your lfe.

The same thing goes for alcohol. Although to me it's better than drugs.
It warms you when you're cold, cools you when your hot, happifies you when you're sad....
Basically no downsides to this. Except hangovers, of course, and those are preventable.

But excess. There's where the problems start.

Everyone says drugs are bad, alcohol is bad, this is bad, that is bad.... No.
Nothing is bad in moderation (except evil, which is a relative concept but.....)
Excess is bad.

So I think, you can take your drugs, drink your liquor, enjoy yourself because #YOLO
Just don't, like......go OTT with it OK?

Disclaimer: Just because I don't mind taking drugs or drinking, doesn't mean I do either. I know how close I am to the abyss, therefore I avoid both like how doctors avoid contact with people who have Ebola.

Anyway.
Oh, that #YOLO I believe in? You only live once. But don't act like a dumbass. #YOLOBDALAD

Challenge completed,

-me.

PS: If there are any mistakes, I apologize, but I really couldn't bother editing anything at the moment because my fingers are cold. Thanks for your understanding :)

I've never done a line of coke, or gone to a rave and shot up some meth or LSD,

and I never will, because addiction to that sort of thing is a recipe for fucking your life up.

But I've been thinking about why I am the way I am, and I've come to the conclusion that it's because of many past experiences that now sum up with the fact that I've never really reacted to them, just forced them down below my subconscious and attempted to forget them.

I succeeded for the most part, except I didn't forget. So now all those memories are coming back to haunt me. Awake or asleep, I have flashbacks, and they're starting to scare me. Because I think I may finally be going fully batshit cray-cray.

I remember everything. Every single thing.

The being beaten until my skin turned purple and my blood flowed.
The being beaten with any object at hand: plastic skipping rope, leather belt, makka stick (thorn bush to you foreign-minded ones), knife, lead pencil....or when there was nothing, the heavy hand.
 On my back, legs, hands, anywhere, like I was some fucking slave.
The being beaten for almost any reason, like taking candy from my best friend in 3rd grade, or chasing my housemate down for my favorite ruler when I was 5, or reading and watching TV simultaneously, or not being able to cut my chicken properly when I was 8, or not being able to make my bed (with a comforter that to this day probably weighs more than I do) properly.
The psychological torture when I heard to "Go fi di belt mek I show yuh sumting in yah tidday" and I knew the specific belt I was being sent for, the one leather belt that knew my body much better than I did.
The being told, when I was bawling living eyewater, to shut the fuck up because I had nothing to be crying about.
All the "days after", when I couldn't sit, or my hands were numb, or my ears were still ringing.
When I couldn't look at myself in the mirror for weeks because my self-confidence was ruined.

You think I want to remember? Fuck no, I don't! But I have to, because memory is a bitch and I still have to wake up, every day, and say good morning to the person who did this to me.

I don't pop pills like my friends pop Trident gum. I don't inject, snort, puff (anymore), inhale, I try my damnedest not to drink. I don't dope, period.

Although it's tempting to have just one drink or hit just one blunt. But I find that it's harder for me to stop something than to start it. Habits are easy to make, but the breaking thereof......not so much.

Therefore, I am stuck with these feelings of anger, hate and regret.
I'm angry because I had to go through this, when no child, no one, should have to. I had to go through it for most of my life, since I was 3 or to 4 until I was 11.
I think I may actually hate this man, though I'd rather not, but...there's years of underlying resentment there and, well..... it turns to hate if left to fester long enough.
I regret not speaking up sooner. If I had then...maybe I would be able to forget.

And my feels aren't broken at all? Damn, I must be stronger than I think.

They say that the potential for abuse of any kind is hereditary. With that in mind, I don't think I can ever have kids. Because I see aspects of him in me. Which is....not good.

So to all y'all who been wondering why SJ's the way she is, complete with horrible self-esteem, mental unstability, trust issues the size of a blue whale and a strange kinship with Eminem and Sia.....this is why.

Yours in fucked-upness,

-me.

So as I write this, it's raining,

and I am listening to Adele and Sia.
Best recipe for feels I have come across in a while.

I dunno, I just like these two women and their music. I mean, Sia creates music that can make my heart palpitate and the tears that are never really very far away just swim to the surface. Have you listened to Elastic Heart?

Now I'm listening to Sia and Flo Rida in Wild Ones.
I think I might be one of those Wild Ones, somewhere below all my layers of introvertedness. Yeah if you catch me with my batteries fully charged-- and by that I mean charged at 1000%, which I'm sure you never will-- I display a level of....wildness.

Not the bad type that my mother thinks I'm going to display when I get to college, being all promiscuous and druggified, nah.

My brand of wild has to do with me just....letting go of all these feelings that I have that I don't have a clue what to do with and actually making some form of effort to be happy.
For me, it's harder than you might think.

So Wild Ones done, and YouTube saw fit to show me She-Wolf. YouTube.....stop it nuh.....
I'm falling to pieces...

No. Try fallen.

I think it's time I get myself to understand that I am well and truly, irrevocably, completely and utterly freaking broken. Shattered. Pop up. Pop dung.

You know, I thought I'd gotten over the part of my life where I was just always sad or sometimes angry and was on my way to learning to be some type of happy.
I haven't. I'm still smack-dab in the midst of it.

Can I hurry up and get past this teenage state of life where my mind is more confused than a wolf in sheep's clothing must be? Please?

I'm not in the mood for these damn feelings right now. I'm talking to le bestie and I want to be happy for that.

So lemme put on this one that a certain smartguy introduced me to. It's called To the rescue by Prince Zimboo (this title is soooo relevant to me right now) and it's just funny as fuck.

I'm out for now.

@Jaye_Eccentriq

PS: I haven't written a poem in so long it's not funny. I wonder if I still can....

So there's this guy who, for reasons we both know,

is my best friend.No, we haven't known each other all our lives, and no, we've not spent all our waking moments together.

I've known him for about three years. Met him through a mutual friend (who, in the 9 years I've known him, isn't all that close to me), and we exchanged numbers, and began that million-mile trod down the road called friendship.

A few....weeks I think it was, afterwards, there was an Incident involving him, my "dad" and a shit storm of misunderstandings and overreactions.

I was toe-curlingly, fist-clenchingly, blush-intensifyingly
SHAME.

I mean, it was my "dad" who threatened him. Who wouldn't have been embarrassed?

About 2 months afterward, I decided to woman the fuck up and...apologize. For me, apologizing is like trying to baptize a cat: doable, but damn hard, and dangerous to the instigator of the act.
So I texted, filled full of humility and "I'm sorry's" and.....he brushed it off. Like dandruff.
"It's OK."

That was relatively fine. What had me, what took my brain out of my head and replaced it with Styrofoam and Bubble Wrap was how he laughed it off. Like literally LOL.

The rest, as they say, is history.

The funny part of this (both ha-ha and peculiar, I guess) is that our entire friendship has been cultivate via social media.
To all y'all who say social media is shit....get thee hence!

I've only ever seen him once or twice since the Incident.

But I dunno though, I feel like we became better friends since then.

A certain mandevillegirl once explained to me the cycle of friendship:

• First, you're friends because you hang out with the same crowd.
• Then somehow you start talking to each other, really talking to each other, and you realize, hey we got stuff in common!
• Then you go through shit together, and you pass through shit together and come out on the other side, relatively unscathed, although you've got bruises and scratches.......but you're still friends.
• You get angry at each other...but you're still friends.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

What's the point of this post?

Lately, I've been feeling like some things are changing, and like some things have changed. I'd like to think the friendship is evolving but...that's going to open a whole can of worms and I really can't deal with that right now.

I guess what I really want to say is....

Fuck.

I don't know what I want to say.

Maybe that he's the best friend I've ever had, and probably will ever have....or that I don't like change much, but I'm willing somehow to face these changes, because it's you, and it's me, and maybe we both need to change.

PS: I'm not friendzoning you. I'm just posting what's on my mind. 

@Jaye_Eccentriq

06: What are you afraid of?

So I was cleaning out my mental closet, wherein I store a lot of stuff. And I got to realize that most things I used to say I'm afraid of....I just hated them. So what's left in that "fear" box inside my head is some real deep shit.

Fear #1: Death
I don't know what happens after death. Regardless of what the mainstream religionists say, no one really knows for sure what happens after your soul leaves your body. and because no one knows, I cannot go gently into that good night. I may not like what I find there. Especially given my type of living in a vacuum.

Fear #2: Blindness
So I have absolutely shitty vision. I'm nearsighted and I have astigmatism. To add to that, both the ophthalmologists (well, I didn't see that little red line which means I spelled it right) I've ever been to tell me that my vision is only going to get worse.
How will I read if I can't see? (And don't be a smartass and tell me about Braille.) I know I'd end up being a bitter bitch if I go blind, because after experiencing the world in sights and colors and having all that taken away, who wouldn't?

Wow.
That's it.

I just thought of Four in the Divergent trilogy for some reason.

Challenge complete.
Toodles.

@Jaye_Eccentriq

17: Your favorite quote

So I've got sooo many favorite quotes, really, so I'm just gonna try to narrow them down to... I dunno...about 100 of them? haha kidding.
I choose to color them because I can. That and they really mean something to me. Feels are not black and white. Feels are kaleidoscopic in color.

First, we have the requisite feels quotes:

1. We're all damaged in our own way. Nobody's perfect. I think we are all somewhat screwy, every single one of us. [Johnny Depp]
2. Defeat is a state of mind. No one is ever defeated until defeat becomes a reality. [Bruce Lee]
3. To me it suffices to wonder at these secrets and attempt humbly to grasp with my mind a mere image of the lofty structure of all that there is. [Albert Einstein]
4. When writing the story of your life, don't let anyone else hold the pen. [Anonymous-- meaning I don't know who said it.]
5. If you realize that all things change, there is nothing you will try to hold on to. If you are not afraid of dying, there is nothing you cannot achieve. [Lao Tzu]
6. Maybe it's not about the happy ending. Maybe it's about the story. [Anonymous]
7. Someone asked me if I knew you, and a million memories went through my mind. Then I just smiled and said I used to. [Wiz Khalifa]
8. What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail? [Anonymous]

And then there are the funny ones:

1. That moment when the voice in your head says "Yep. You going to hell."
2. Life is short. Smile while you still have teeth.
3. Sometimes I pretend to be normal. But it's boring.
4. I just found out that there is nothing wrong with me. It's the world that has issues.
5. I need a six-month vacation twice a year.
6. Behold, the field in which I grow my fucks. Gaze upon it and see that it is barren.
7. I don't have an attitude problem. You have a problem with my attitude, and that is your problem.
8. So if guns kill people, I guess that means that cars drive drunk, spoons make people fat and pencils misspell words?

And finally, the random-ass quotes that just emphasize how.....not-normal-or-ok I am.

The end, motherfuckers.

Challenge completed.

@Jaye_Eccentriq

Today is my birthday, and I'm 17 years old,

and I cried. Now I'm about to make a wild guess and say that you've never seen anyone cry on their birthday. That's because you haven't seen me.

Why did I cry? Cuz them tears wasn't no tears of joy. They was my body's way of telling me, "Heyyy bitch, your feels switch is flipped."

But anyway. I stopped after a few seconds, because I hate crying....because I'm ugly uglier when I cry and I'm ugly enough already.

Google+ wished me happy birthday. My FB "friends" did. (This random girl all up on my wall like "Happy birthday Shari-Boo!" like me and her a big fren. WTF????)  My actual friends did. FB itself did.
So why then did not my mother, who had me at 5:20 am on this day in 1997 and thus is bound to remember, not wish me happy birthday? It's not like she forgot; I heard her tell my sister to come wish me happy birthday. (She didn't.)

Part two of my feels: What have I done with my life?
Answer: not much.
That burns. Deeply. In 17 years, all I seem to have done is:

• ask questions
• write stuff
• stay alive
• ask more questions
• be depressed
• ask more questions

I don't even know what the fuck I'm going to do with life. And I hate not knowing stuff.

Yes. It's my birthday. and I should be happy. So lemme try that one on for size.....

So as it happens, I was born. Whole and healthy. Thank you (whoever "you" are. I won't assume.)

I haven't been, like, majorly sick over the 1997-2014 period. Thank you

My feels aren't broken (much), which makes for a shitload of problems for me, but I can still feel so.... Thank you

That time in my life where all I wanted was to die, but was afraid to hasten the process because thanatophobia.....it's come and gone, and it shows no real signs of returning. Thank you

There's people in this world who give a fuck about my welfare, even when I don't. Thank you.

  Guys, you know yourselves. I'm grateful for every last one of you.

I've lived to be 17. Lots of kids haven't. Thank you

I close this post feeling a lot better than I did when I started it. 

Sometimes, something as simple as daring to glance at the bright side even when it hurts your eyes helps.

Happy birthday, SJ. 

Somebody bake me this cake? :)

@Jaye_Eccentriq

EDIT: Mommy emailed me. I'm OK now. :)

19: Your 10 favorite foods

Yes, before you ask, I eat food, and I like food, I just don't eat much of it these days.
I guess I'm just going to do all those "10" whatever or "5" whatever challenges first, and then get to the serious stuff.

Soooooo the relationship post is just gonna have to wait for a while. :D

Now. My 10 favorite foods. Some of them I haven't eaten in a while, and some of them I've eaten as recently as a few minutes ago. [In the lab, where food is prohibited. Hashtag Rebel Bitch!]

I'll see if I can say why they're my favorite foods, and try to get pics to post as well.

Here goes.

1. Cheesecake
    It's cheese. And, as much as I may seem the direct opposite thereof, I am a normal teenager. Therefore, I like cheesy stuff. Well. Dairy foods in general. I mean, really. It's just wonderful.

2. Chocolate

    Oh, for fuck's sake. It's Chocolate. I refuse to say "chocolate" as that implies the commonality thereof. Chocolate. Is. The. Ambrosia. Of. The. Gods. Can I say anything more about the great Chocolate? And fuck those wannabe types with things in them. Actual, good ol' CHOCOLATE. Unhealthy, you say? Like hell!

 Chocolate comes from cocoa, which comes from a tree. That makes it a plant. Ergo, chocolate counts as a vegetable. And you should always eat your veggies.

3. Fruit salad

    Yeah, it's the healthiest thing I eat. And I don't mean the soggy shit you buy in a can. I'm talking real homemade stuff. With your apples and your oranges and your grapes and stuff. It tastes really nice, and the fact that you can indulge and get hype for healthy eating makes it even nicer. :)

4. Yogurt

     Dairy stuff. Nice little things in it. Pretty. Enough said.

Oh, and let me just add that frozen yogurt is probably what Jesus has for dessert up in heaven. It's that good.

5. Bacon

    Jesus' main course. Bacon + cheese = Heaven on earth.

6. Ham

    Jesus' other main course. Ham + pineapple glaze = food orgasm. 

Yes, I am a carnivore and I'm proud of it. Leave me alone.

7. Fried chicken

    What can I say? I'm black. [Well, in terms of ethnicity.] It is a genetic fact that black people love fried fowl. And who am I to be going against the grain? I love it too.

8. Fried breadfruit
    I don't know why I like it. I just know I like it.

I also like fried things. Again, leave me alone.

9. Irish potatoes
    Not sweet potatoes. Irish potatoes. What the Americans call "spud" with love in their voices and contentment in their hearts. It's the stuff of French fries, and to us Jamaicans, good ol' Juici Patties wedges. DEM TASTE DAMN GOOD.

10. Bread

      Not wheat bread as much. White bread. The unhealthy type that helps clog your arteries and cause your heart to fail (fail what, exactly? Some test?) It goes with everything you can think of. Butter. Barbecue sauce (it tastes good. Try it.). Mayonnaise. Ketchup. Everything.

And it's supposed to be 10 foods. I don't give a fuck. I'm making it 11. This one is for me, Excelsior, and all those others who are part of the worldwide Cracker Brotherhood.

11. CRACKERS

      I need to say nothing. If you are truly a cracker lover, you'll know why crackers deserve to be the global dish.

Yes, MAN. That's you right there. :)

Surprisingly (or not, y'know, since this is a post about food), I'm hungry. But I hadn't planned to eat till I got home at 6 and it's almost 1 now...so I dunno how that's gonna work out.

Challenge complete. Toodles.

@Jaye_Eccentriq

08: What are your worst habits?

There are so many of them, but I'll try to narrow it down to about five.
Here goes.

1. I swear like a fucking sailor.
    See? It doesn't matter my mood. If I'm happy, I swear. If I'm sad, I swear. If I'm annoyed, I swear. Even when I'm silent, I'm thinking "Shut the motherfucking hell the fuck up" at everyone who tries to talk to me.

2. I read in the bathroom.
    It's one bathroom that serves me and my parents. And I hardly ever read and stop. So all those 800-page novels are going to be finished while I'm on the toilet. If my parents can't take it (which they can't)..... c'est la vie.

3. I'm OCD sometimes.
    If I pack something up, and it decides to mess itself back up just to fuck with me, I start hyperventilating and feeling like I'm going to go crazy.

4. I torture pests.
    If I'm outside and find a slug in the garden, I trap it on a piece of newspaper and surround it by salt so it can't move. Then I stab it repeatedly with a pin and imagine it begging for mercy. Then I sprinkle a very thin layer of salt on it so it melts slowly.
   I remind you now that I wanted to be a serial killer at one point. The potential is there.

5. My eating habits aren't habits at all.
    When I decide to eat, I eat junk food. And most of the time I decide not to eat at all. For the record, I'm 5'2"  and 106 pounds. I can see my ribs when I look in the mirror.
    Iceburg told me once that I'm probably anorexic, but I disagreed because I don't make myself throw up. I just pig out like once a week and then make up for it by not eating for about two weeks. I'm about to Google that.

6. My sleeping habits aren't habits at all either.
    I don't know if that's Excelsior's legacy to me or what, but I rarely ever go to sleep before 2 am. Bear in mind that I have to wake at about 6. So there are these permanent bags under my eyes. To the point where a former friend of mine nicknamed me "purple panda" and a friend of mine (introducing one of the Four, JL) was like "You know the veins on your eyelids are really defined, right?"
   But cho. Sleep is for the weak. Until sleep box my bomboclaat and then I just want to sleep for a week.


Those weren't really in order. if you want them in order, they're like this (to me):
6,5,1,2,3,4.

Challenge complete.
Toodles.

@Jaye_Eccentriq

EDIT: I couldn't seem to find what my particular brand of eating disorder is, if it's even classified as one....but apparently it's a sign of depression. Whoops...

A bit of disgustingness in the day here

So it's November. The month wherein I celebrate the anniversary of the day I emerged triumphantly from my mother's genitalia like "Bitch I did it!"

Yay, and all that.
Fanfare, excitement, whoop-de-doo.

That's not what I'm here for, though.
It's actually the first week of November, and I'm on my period.

OH.
MY.
GODS.

Yay in the sense that, in 5 or 6 years I've never had my period on my birthday. Praise God for small blessings like not having to writhe in pain and break out in cold sweat on November 11. There's that much.

But does it have to hurt so fucking much??? 
Bruh!

[Oh. This is the 'bit of disgusting talk'. If you's the squeamish type, leave.]

Disclaimer out of the way. Back to business.

So I started this cycle on Sunday. And I've noticed: every single day 1 of my periods are ALWAYS eventful. What am I talking about, you say? Read on and find out. (Unless the disclaimer refers to you, in which case, anything you get, you take.)

1. I was at my grandma's house for the weekend, which is an event in and of itself because I almost never leave my house. Even though I hate being at home, especially when I'm not alone at home.

2. Iceburg (remember him?) messaged me.....no...lie.... I messaged him. And he, like, answered. I tell you, I nearly fainted when he responded. And then we had, like, a meaningful conversation about us over the course of 2 days.
       Yes, he's my boyfriend, and yes, we have been together for almost 13 months now. But it's still an "event". Why? It hasn't happened before. [Me + him = Blog Challenge 02....that I'm avoiding for as long as I can.]

3. Fucked-up mood the Sunday night. As he put it: "This [w]hole distance/mood thing...." Yup. Now, the event in this, is that I was taken by surprise.
      Fact #31: I hate surprises. 

So yeah. There was all that to contend with, and then my period decided to come and start. From about 4:30.

Inna di rass mawnin'. 

Thank you, Iceburg, for sending me a 32-second voice note at 10 Saturday night that had me overthinking until I couldn't take it anymore and decided to get up at 4:30 am on Sunday.

I got out of bed without waking my mother (event #4 here as she's an extremely light sleeper and we were on the same bed), took my phone to the bathroom to listen to said voice note and decided, "Well, lemme just pee at the same time."

Lo and behold.
Blood on them drawers.
Now right there I was like (in my head of course, my whole family is Christian), "BLOODCLAAA--" and then I realized that that was insensitive as fuck.
  (Haha, get it? No? OK.)

  So thanks, BR. You's my nigga. [No, really. You is.] Wasn't for you, I'd have been sleeping. And then there'd have been blood on them white sheets, and lemme just say ewwwwwwwwww.

Yeah.
Would you call me Captain Obvious if I said I hate my periods?
I do, though.

I hate that little rush I feel when I've been sitting or lying down for a while and then suddenly stand up. That's some serious psychological torture right there, especially when it catches me unprepared. In class.

I hate that I have cramps. In fact, there is a post on my other blog entitled Cramps and Questions dedicated to this. [Yes, that was a link to it.]

I hate when the flow is too heavy that I get messed up. Blood is a bit difficult to remove from things. Just so you know.

I hate that when my mother sees me curled up in the fetal position, in a cold sweat, nearly bawling, all she says is "Hush. You nah dead." Woman. I KNOW. But it still fucking hurts.

I hate that my periods are 6 days long, and the first 3 days are dedicated solely to making me curse the days when I was 10 and used to say "Oh, I can't wait to have my period!" like some damn fool.

I hate that I have to have periods, period.
 Very nicely done, that one. :)

I'd like to just share with you that my Biology teacher (big up Mrs b, I lub ya) once told me that menstrual cramps are essentially heavily watered-down labor pains.

I'm getting a hysterectomy as soon as I can afford it.

@Jaye_Eccentriq

07: Write 30 interesting facts about yourself

Disclaimer: I did say I probably might not do this in order. So if you're catching feelings because you were looking forward to hearing about my relationship status and how I feel about it....tough shit. You just gotta wait some more.

30 interesting facts about myself, they said.
I can give you 30 facts about myself. I'm not so sure about the "interesting" part.
Here goes.

Aaaaaand I just caught myself with my head in my hands. I really do suck and talking about myself. Let's try again.

1. One of the items on my bucket list is to lather my whole body in butter, wrap myself in cling wrap, and slither around on the floor pretending to be a slug.

2. I'm a perfectionist. If I get over being a lazy-ass procrastinator and actually decide to do shit, it will be done well. Which is why more while I don't do shit, cuz it's gonna require energy expenditure...and I don't have much energy to expend anyway.

3. I like the idea of upside-down. So I eat bread from the ugly bottom part up to the crust, sleep upside-down on my bed, and slide out of bed onto my head and then flip over onto my stomach on the floor.

4. I'm actually really quiet, but on a great day you'll hear me before you see me.

5. If books could talk, I'd never even try to make any more human friends, and I'd never maintain the friendships I do have.

6. I'm kind of a misogynist, which is why I have mostly male friends (hey Excelsior, hey Jav). Except when it's period time (like now) when I say "Fuck men, all they gotta worry about is boners and we women gotta writhe in pain on a monthly basis!"

7. But I'm also kind of a feminist, meaning that I don't believe women should have to rely on men. Hashtag self-sufficiency, bitch.
[Funnily enough, my backup plan in case I fuck up academically is to find a rich man to marry. Hypocrite much?]

8. You know how some people think in sound, and others in pictures? I think in terms of both. So my thoughts have faces and sounds. [Except when my mother is nagging me and there's just the big ole dutty SHUT THE FUCK UP in my head. No disrespect if you ever see this, Mother.]

9. I've always wondered what blind people see. Like, do they see all white or all black? I'd ask one, but I don't know any, and it might come off as being insensitive.

10. I'm really straightforward. So if I don't like you, I'll let you know, not by actions, but by "Ayo I don't like you." [Quick anecdote: when I was in 5th form, there was a girl whose seat I sat in for Spanish class. We hated each other's guts. I knew she knew I hated her, and vice versa. But eventually we liked each other because we hated each other. Get it? I don't.]

11. I have a photographic memory. So I can tell you what happened the first time we met, what we talked about, how long we talked etc.....but damned if I can remember what you were wearing or who texted first.

12. I don't like the idea of math. I just like the idea of fucking around with numbers and getting other numbers and the process makes a weird sort of sense.

13. If I study abroad, I'd major in astronomy because stars are just really really cool to me. [In actuality they're really really hot but you know what I mean.]

14. I'm 16+, right? And I'm 5'2". But when I dress up, these random guys will be like "You 25? Cuz I'm 27 and I'm feeling your vibes!" Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm bitch I'm 16....

15. Continuing the age thing. I'm 16+. I'd only date guys 18-21. When I'm 17 next Tuesday (oooh, birthday post idea!!!) It's gonna be 19-22 only. At least 2 years my senior and no more than 5.

16. I have a thing for languages. I pick them up extremely easily. Maybe it's because of the whole Spelling Bee thing 5 years ago (that people still act starstruck over like it was this morning), but I do.

17. I'd like to read the holy books of all major religions one day.

18. I make jokes out of the most serious situations. Ebola? Joke. Chicken-gunshot Chikungunya? Further jokes. Except ISIS. Them I don't fuck with at all. They might end up coming after me.

19. I think blood and gore is cool. I once considered becoming a serial killer. [If police are reading this (highly unlikely): I'm not one though.]

20. I like when it's a slight drizzle and cold as fuck, so I can lie in bed reading. I also like when it's pouring so I can go dance in it.

21. I like Benjamin Franklin because he did the stuff I've always wanted to.

22. I like just randomly staring at people, because it unnerves them. Why? I read once that Scorpios have a piercing stare and I wanted to see if it was true.

23. If I meet a guy on the road, no matter how cute he is, if he asks me my name, I'm telling him Trishelle (a nuh lie). And if he asks me my number, I give them the police's.

24. I'd like to fly over Mount Everest just so I can kick snow off it.

25. I'm 15.5 years older than my younger sister. Meaning I could have had her if I were about that life.

26. I always wonder what "that life" is, and why no one is ever about it.

27. I suck at selfies.

28. I still roll around on Bubble Wrap.

29. Sometimes I want to be a kid forever, and then other times I can't wait to grow up.

30. I swear like a sailor. I've tried to stop and failed. Multiple times.


The end.

I've sat here for almost 45 minutes. I don't know if these facts are "interesting" but there are 30 of them, and they're all facts.
Toodles.

@Jaye_Eccentriq

01: Introduction and recent photo

The recent photo thing nah go work enuh. I prefer being behind the camera than being in front of it.
But here goes.

My name is Shari-Jo Miller. (I really didn't want to do this, but oh well.) I'm 16 years old as at this blog post.

What else....?
I'm not good at talking about myself.

Umm....

I like reading in bed on rainy afternoons. I like talking to smart people, and people like me. But then I like being alone with my thoughts more.

I like books. I mean, I really adore books. I don't care what kind of book it is. I'll read it and then complain about how the writing was jacked-up after I'm done. And I read really quickly. I finished one of my favorite books, The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (who was born on the same day as me) in 3 hours. It was almost 1000 pages. Fine print.

Excelsior told me recently that I read "faster than fuck". That depends on how fast a fuck is, but I don't like raunchy jokes so I won't go there.

I like music. Like Eminem, classical, and Sia. Definitely Sia. I'd say why, but I did in a previous post.

I like beauty and art as well. They're what make the world....well....beautiful. I don't like pretty stuff. Pretty is fake. Beautiful isn't.

And I like chocolate. Regardless of the fact that it makes pimples sprout on my face faster than I read. It tastes damn good.

Aaaaaaand I guess that's it.
As I said, I suck at talking about myself.

Talking about my fears is a whole challenge in itself. And were I to start talking about what I don't like, I'd be late for my Comm Studies test that I have in a few minutes that I have yet to study for.

Oh. Someone asked me recently why I named this blog "thewaywardgenius".
Because I've a 160 IQ, which apparently makes me a genius (although I dunno about that. I trod that fine line between genius and insanity) and, instead of following the path my forbears have trod and learning from their mistakes, I make my own. Deliberately.

That's why. Well..that, and "rebelliousgenius" sounded too mainstream.

Yes, this post is so disorganized. But I am.
Toodle-oo.

@Jaye_Eccentriq

Surfing the net, reading another blog and this happened.

Now, I'm shitty when it comes to consistent writing. But I like challenges, and I've always wanted the motivation to write more. Currently there are (this makes it) 31 posts on this blog. I'd like to make it more before 2015 comes in and my life starts spinning in circles so fast that I get dizzy.

The 30-day Blog Challenge.

Admittedly, some of these are stupid. I mean, how can I make a sensible blog post about what's in my handbag? I don't even own a handbag. Those I wear are my mother's. But anyway. I'll be a good person and complete this challenge.

I might not do it for 30 days straight. I might not even do them in order.  But, I guess it's the fact that there'll be 30 more blog posts by the time I've done this challenge.

Wish me luck.

@Jaye_Eccentriq

Even though I'm all barely repressed emotions, I still

like to pretend I'm not.

So I like songs that talk about inner strength, or being unbreakable, or rising above it all.
Like Elastic Heart, Titanium Pills N Potions...those sorts of songs.

I think I think (read it properly) that if I delude myself well enough that I'm bulletproof, titanium, all of that (BTW big up YouTube for the links. Y'all the illest.)

Fire away, fire away.
I dare not say that to those who hurt me, or those who wish to. Because they will fire away, but...the bullets won't ricochet. They'll sink in, piercing my fragile skin, flagellating it. And I fear pain.

I am not titanium.
I'm human. Regardless of how I wish it otherwise, I feel just as everyone else does. I just do a better job (ha. Bullshit.) of hiding it.

You did not break me. I'm still fighting for me. I've got thick skin and an elastic heart....but your blade, it might be too sharp...

Stone heart loves bulletproof glass.

My "titanium heart" is glass. Not even Pyrex. Crystal. Knock it too hard and I'm gone.

Nothing to lose, but don't fire away. Please.

Now let's be clear, I trust no one.
Except the trusted few. Excelsior, the rest...

The point of this post?
I lie to myself in the hopes that one day I'll be telling the truth.

Albert Einstein once said, "Insanity is doing the same things repeatedly while expecting different results each time."

Take from that what you may.

Not melancholy, but I'm on my way

@Jaye_Eccentriq

Excelsior asked me a few minutes ago, "Would anything change if

people didn't think you have it together?"

I'm going to assume that "anything" he's talking about is my image of myself and my world.

Maybe. Maybe not.

Maybe I'd be worse. The whole "sticks and stones may break my bones" thing doesn't apply to me. Maybe I'd sink deeper into a quagmire of depression, deeper and deeper until I don't recognize myself when I look in the mirror.

Sometimes, even now, it's hard to do.

And maybe I'd be better. The whole "well, they know, so it makes no sense to pretend" thing also applies to me. So many things do, desirable and undesirable.
Maybe I'd actually say to myself, "They think I don't have my shit together? Well I'll show them," and actually get it together.

But...since this is a hypothetical question and I have a minor headache, I think I'll save this for tonight when I can't sleep. I'll overthink it better then.

@Jaye_Eccentriq

You know those days when all you want is

for the day to be over?

(Who am I kidding, of course you do.)

That's how I feel about this whole aspect of my life.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this post, other than to say it's hard being a teenage girl.

Where am I going?
I don't know.
I just want to get there.

I'm not a patient person, and to be made to wait to see what will become of me is, to the most irrational part of me, unfair. 

Sometimes I wish I could just fast-forward time to when I'll be happy and at peace after accomplishing all I ever wanted to.

And then other times I want to rewind time to when I had no worries, no responsibilities other than being healthy.

Like now? I'm unhealthy as hell (had gastro a few days ago), my mental state isn't the brightest, and I struggle with so many things I'm beginning to feel like Atlas with the weight of the sky on his shoulders. Only, I hold the weight of the sky in my hands. I've not accomplished much to be honest.

People who think they know me might say to others, "Look at her. You see her? That's a girl with all her shit together."

People who do know me know I don't. I'm a scatterbrain on my best days.
Look at me. I mean really look, and you'll see. These days, I wear a Nicki Minaj smile and host Marilyn Monroe's messed-upness behind it.

I have never, ever, ever had my shit together. And the truth is, I probably never will. That's the sad truth.

@Jaye_Eccentriq

So it's that time of my life when I need to

decide what I'll be doing with my life.
The dreaded two words.

College applications.

I mean, who knew I'd be 16+ and having to stress over what college I'll be going to in a year?
Well, I am.

Now my dilemma is this: I want to do medicine so I can become a psychiatrist, for reasons previously stated here. But I can't afford $3.22 million dollars per year to do that, can I? And with these grades I got in my Unit 1 CAPE exams....I guess I have to kiss those scholarship dreams of my mother's goodbye.

So I have to be considering other options. The very sound of the phrase is ludicrous to me because, really, psychopaths are my passion. I have no other option because my heart won't give me any.

But to please my mother, and to not turn a total cruff after high school, I will apply for other things.
The easiest way to discuss them is using a list. Now I hate lists, but here I go.

1. Actuarial Science-- which is this.
        It pays a shitload of money. Admittedly, while my first ambition is to leave this society a better place than how I entered it, my second ambition is to make money. Not to be rich per se, but to not need to struggle to find money. Actuarial science does that.

2. Civil Engineering-- which is this
      One thing that fascinates me (and has done so ever since I was young.....er) is beauty. The science of beauty. the art of beauty. Making beautiful things. I'm a quasi-artist, but I want my idea of beauty to be real. I can't sculpt (never tried, but I don't think I can) so I'll just learn to construct pretty beautiful buildings.
      And it pays well too. :)

3. Foreign Languages
    Here I was all ready to type this part of the post in French, because francophilia but I reminded myself that whoever reads this speaks English only, and maybe good ole Patois. But still.
                                      J'adore le franҫais!
Spanish...I don't adore it, but I like it. One of my greatest dreams is to live in France. Any Francophone country will do, but I really, really, really want to live in Paris.
   This time, I really don't care how much it pays. I just love my languages.

So yeah...that's it. Dilemma one of many.
The sad/funny thing is I can't decide this one with a coin toss or "Who's coming next Punchinello little fellow". This is my life.

I think I need advice. Best friend, darling.... :)

@Jaye_Eccentriq

       

I may talk to loads of people, but the truth is

I don't really have many friends. I was confronted yesterday by two such, because I'm apparently "spiraling out of control". (Let's not go into that right now.) And they said, "You can talk to us. anytime, anywhere, we are here for you."

I was struck immediately by how few people I've had say that to me. And then how few people really mean that.

But why do I have only...let's see... four (or so) real friends at the moment?

I think it boils down to being "once bitten, twice shy". I have spoken to friends about what's going on in my life and it's backfired. Hard.
do you really expect me to open up after that? I still hurt. After *stops to count* 4 years, I still hurt. Badly. And then I see  this.That doesn't magically massage my bruised and broken emotions though, but I'm trying. (Me, the rambler, off on a tangent. As usual.)

So maybe I am spiraling out of control. Whatever. I don't think I am buuuuuuut let's not go there either.

The fact is, regardless of how I feel, those days when I'm just like "I have approximately zero friends!" there is someone-- technically four or so really but let's not quibble over trivialities-- who will slap me upside the head and say "Bitch what the fuck am I, a tree?" 

The funniest part of it is that there're like 2 girls (who I don't consider girls really cuz they aint feminine at all) and then the guys who I've known for like 3 years but still can't friendzone. In fact, I think I'm starting to get a crush on one such.

OK I'm gone before I spill what I'm not supposed to and get my ass in trouble.

@Jaye_Eccentriq

Is it that the ISIS militants are so firmly rooted in their beliefs that they just

randomly select people whose lives they will then unmercifully wield control over? All for power?

I just watched a series of 3 videos, where the 3 journalists were forced to say what the militants wanted to say to the super-governments. I heard their fear. I felt their despair. I saw in their eyes not self-pity, not self-loathing, but reluctant acceptance of what was to be done to them. I saw forgiveness in advance for what was to be done to them.

I saw a fragile hope. Hope that their deaths brutal slayings would not have been in vain. Hope that they, through having their lives brutally snatched from them, would somehow succeed in making the world a better place. And I barely managed to repress my emotions. Because, for a while there, I felt like I was them.

But right now I can't focus on them, or what they went through. All I could think about was the one killer. That one man who held the fragile thread of three lives in his hands. And did he just make it quick? One clean guillotine, sever their souls from their bodies?

No. A rusty blade. Breaking the thread fiber by fiber, watching souls bleed out, watering the dry ground.

Why?

That's the only thing in my mind. I think in movements, sounds, pictures. But right now all I can think is "Why?"

Those men had people they loved. People who loved them. Dreams, aspirations, hopes, memories, regrets, unresolved issues, questions, answers....they were, like we all are, like the ISIS militants are-- even though it's hard to believe-- human.

I started this post angry. Now I'm just sad.

Sad that men think that this is the only way to get the attention of the masses: carnage.
Sad that this is the best way to get the attention of the masses.
Sad that the carnage isn't over yet, because they haven't gotten what they want.

And these are the things that make me wonder, where the hell heaven is God in all this? Is he just looking down indifferently, occasionally cackling, and scratching his balls?
Is this his form of justice?
Why isn't he doing something?
WHY is this happening to innocent men who probably were counting down the hours till they could go home to their families, sit down and eat a good hot meal and just live? 

And I wait patiently for an answer.
Child. My ways aren't yours. My thoughts aren't yours. Believe that this is just a part of My grand scheme of things.

It's hard to do, God. It is.
Which is why I won't.

I will, instead, pity those poor brainwashed souls that believe that violence is the way to paradise. I will pity them, and....what? Hope they never reach my little island in the sun?

This just proves to me that we will never fully, if at all, understand the human psyche. Which is why I, now more than ever, want to be a psychiatrist. To at least try.

Yes, I know I've ended this post remarkably lamely, considering the buildup of emotions I started it with. But I just don't have the words. I can't find the words.

I've been rendered speechless, wordless, by these acts of unspeakable cruelty. I think I will now enter silent mode.

-@Jaye_Eccentriq

Eureka!

A moment of Eureka a few nights ago. All these years I've been struggling to define myself in terms of me, to step out from the shadows of others and form my own.

Suddenly, Saturday night, it happened.

I was writing, as I usually am, when suddenly I found myself writing the following:

You may not know who I am, but I think I have an idea. I chase after the wind. I trap lightning in bottles. I do the impossible and smile afterwards, because it was so easy.

I am both the diamond and the dirt. To expose me, you must first erode me. I hide who I truly am...simply by being me.

I am a true solipsist. I believe in the absolute power of my mind. I am neither a pessimist or an optimist. I am both an idealist and a realist; I live in a utopian world, well aware that it will never happen, and I have accepted this as fact.

I chart my own course. I refuse to trod the paths of others before me. I choose instead to walk within the jungles when everyone chooses to walk the highway. I embrace the pain on tripping and falling, of skinned knees, when all others rush to alleviate the stinging pain...

Saturday night-- or was it Sunday morning?-- caught me in the most introspective mood I've been in for a few months. But finally, finally, finally, I've learned who exactly I am.

I am exponentially more than the sum of my parts. I am a child, yet I am a woman. No. I am more than a woman. I am unique. Unique in that there is no other combination of genes which could ever produce this person, this exquisite example of... self... that is me.

I am not you. I am not my mother, my father, or anyone else. I'm me. You understand? I'm me, and I've finally learned to accept that which I cannot change.

Once I wanted to be someone else. To lose myself in the shadow of her personality and become her. But I've learned.

I seek true peace and happiness. I have yet to achieve it, but now I embark on the next step of the journey: acceptance of self.

I accept that I am flawed. I accept that there will be times when I will sink deep into the recesses of my mind and wish to remain there, stuck, for a lifetime. I accept that I am not perfect, and that I never will be perfect. I accept myself as I am, flaws and all, a girl who all she wants is to find her own niche in this world and make a difference, who wants to be happy, who wants to laugh until the tears flow and the stomach aches, who just wants to be accepted for who she truly is, who doesn't have to hide the diamond in the dirt, a girl who listens to the songs of the starsin the dead of night and marvels and the exquisite perfection of it all.

I accept my paradoxical personality. I accept that I am an oxymoron. I accept that I am an eccentriq in every sense of the word. I accept that I will laugh where others remain stone-faced, and I will remain stone-faced where others laugh. I accept that I will be different from the rest of the crowd simply because I am me.

I am an oddity. I am whimsical. I am unpredictable. The empyreal is my desideratum. Never the terrestrial. I am flawed. I am oxymoronic: I am flawed and imperfect...yet I am absolutely perfect.

Finally, I know who I am. I flopped back on my bed that Saturday night/Sunday morning with the biggest grin on my face because guess what... Eureka!!!

Happier than I've been in a looooooooooong time,

@Jaye_Eccentriq

Praeteritus

I am here, waiting to be found
To be remembered
But alas
No such fortune.

Everyone is too busy with memories to recollect
There was once one who wished to be like them.

In the beginning I'd thought
I'm just a memory
Turns out I'm less than a memory
I
am
nothing
at
all.

They have passed me on
Barely stopping to look at me
The few who have met my eyes are blank
Not even the merest flicker of deja vu.

So it has been since....
I've forgotten.

They have forgotten me utterly
And now I begin to forget myself

What shall I do when, like them, I have forgotten?

@Jaye_Eccentriq

16 years

Michael

Sorry for not writing before but a girl got business to take care of plus it's exam season now so you understand....don't you?



It's now exam season. Again. Which means that all my friends in upper sixth shall be off to that great exciting unknown called college. And I'll still be here with my memories of them and things said and unsaid. Things I wish I had said.

It may not be obvious, given that I'm prone to rambling, but I find it extremely hard to say things that matter. So if I hurt you, I'll beat around the bush, and rationalize, and avoid. I can't say I'm sorry. Even harder for me to say that dreaded L word.

Even when I do mean it with every fiber of my being.
No I am not talking about Iceburg. That's something I need a week or four to contemplate. I'm talking about people like Excelsior.

Excelsior....this one is yours.

I met him when I started 6th form at Chesta.
And I hated him. Hated his guts. My first impression? "Jesus ee nuff sah!" The guy came up to a friend and me one lunchtime and was introducing himself and expressing his good wishes for our lower sixth year. (Incidentally, he and my friend's elder sister are friends.)

We both disliked him. I mean, come on. Who wouldn't dislike this male they dunno from Adam who just randomly comes up and starts talking?

Fast-forward a couple of days. We saw each other around the school and it progressed from "Hey, what's your name?" to "What subjects do you do?" and eventually us realizing that we had Carib class together and consequently sitting next to each other at the....wait for it.... back of the class.

Whenever I skipped class and hung out on the gazebo, he was always there. First came the days when he'd be like "Shari yuh need fi gah class enuh" and then those days when he just said "Shari....ah fuck it yah man"

All this time I didn't trust him as far as I could push him, which isn't very far. He always saw me in my depressed states and asked what was wrong. He understood what I meant when I shook my head silently without looking at him. He understood I meant "Leave me alone. I don't wish to talk about it." And he did as I requested. He left me alone until I came around.


My nickname, after he found out I was 15 at the time, was "Jailbait". We eventually let the rest of our friends in on it because that was one in-joke that killed us every time. "Jailbait."
My private nickname for him is "Drama King" but let's not go there... and I'm rambling. Dammit.

On my 16th birthday (I celebrated it at school, in Carib class for heaven's sake) he officially rechristened me as "The Girl Formerly Known as 'Jailbait'".

Yes. Et cetera, et cetera. Or, as Iceburg would say, "And some other shit."

Now? I can't imagine Chesta without him. Who am I gonna idle with now? Who am I gonna be inseparable from? Who's gonna listen to me and give me good advice that I don't wanna hear?

Who's going to be the best friend I've ever had in a school setting?

And I'll bet he'll have some smartass response for that.

But the purpose of this rambling was just to say I do love the boy/man. I really do.

Remember how I said earlier that I'd hated him the very first time I met him? I never learn. It's always those people who end up meaning the most to me.

But I'll miss him. And the thought of going through another year of stress and problems without him to destress and kick back with...frankly, it's making me shed a hella lot of tears. And that, for those of you who don't know me, is something I rarely, if ever do.

Anyway, Excelsior.....good luck. Keep writing.

Not used to expressing feelings like this but I'm sure he understands,

@Jaye_Eccentriq