March 28, 2007 at 9:09 pm (Bad News, Rants & Whatever)
Awww man!! I can’t believe it!! I’m bandaged D: and it looks as if my hand is bloated T-T
I got tortured in many ways just to get the bandage on my hand ._. and now it hurts WORSE than the sprain I got…it sucks bad D:
That’s the first time it was bandaged. It was badly done all cause I told my doctor cum friend that I needed my fingers to write 
This is my new bandaged style, looks a lil better right? RIGHT! But ah, my hand can’t even bend cause he bandaged it too tightly DX he forced me “insisted”!! And it’s even tighter now…my whole hand is aching and itching D: what kinda sick, sick, SICK torture IS this?!?!?! T-T
I am SO uber unhappy D: this is SO not a good time to have my hand in a bandage man…I don’t want to turn 20 like this lerr…anyways, look at my unhappy looks D:
How it happened? I don’t know worr…all I know was I felt the pangs of pain in Theories of Counseling and Psychotherapy lecture while copying notes…ish, hurts!!!
Bah, this ain’t gonna pull me down!! I’ll live to be 20 even if it kills me!!!
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March 28, 2007 at 10:34 am (Literature, Art & Graphics)
Can’t you see? Don’t you care
That I want to die?
Don’t you listen? Can’t you hear
My silent cry?
Won’t you turn? Can’t you hold
Me to your heart?
Are you afraid of what might follow
Once you start?
Would you rather not believe
I’m in such pain
That all your sense and good advice
Must be in vain?
Would you rather tell yourself
I’ll be OK,
And all this adolescent angst
Will go away?
Ah! Would I also swim across
This lake alone!
But if you cannot swim with me,
I know I’ll drown.
::::::::::::::::::::
I’ve done something I’ve used to do before…it hurts now, I never thought that I’d be afraid to die, maybe I should just get it over with and then regret. But what do I get from it? Eternal damnation? Sounds like fun…but there’s so much of life I haven’t seen before like meeting people who I care the most, like making it to age 80 like my grandpa.
Oh life, cure me of my impure thoughts of suicidal attempts, or hurting myself, of unconditional thoughts, of my depression…I haven’t the slightest idea when I began thinking like this. Why the thought of slicing my arm seems so comforting…could it be that I’m ready to let go? Could it be that I see no meaning to my existence?
Then why do I hesitate so? Perhaps deep within me, I’m afraid to fail in everyone’s eyes…for throughout my life, I amounted to nothing but rebellion and childish tantrums. How I feel dead inside…is nothing compared to my will to survive. Perhaps I am the coward everybody knew I was…I’m sorry…
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