Feeling: Kapoot

I've been reading through old (as in very old) e-mails I should have deleted a very (as in very very) long time ago. It was painful and slightly stomach-tightening, and I can't help but feel like I was such a bitch. Like. WOWWWWWW. I'm so sorry. And ashamed of myself. And so, in tribute to those I been mean towards, in the fashion that has stuck to my very soul, I have written down words:

To whoever I have hurt due to my naivite (I could name a few, but I think you know who you are. Okay, I'll give initials. A, D, T, C, K and H),

I am on my knees and begging profusely for your forgiveness. Time has blessed me with wisdom (That wasn't the right word. I'm not wise, hahah (Well, I mean, I've grown out of most of my naivite and stupidity)), and I am now aware of how mean I was to you. Whether you forgive me or not (And I can see how you wouldn't want to even consider it), please understand I am a changed female unit and I have been unexpectedly acquainted with the disgusting habits of the much younger me. As such, I apologise if my growing up has ended in your demise. Do not hesitate to approach me to confirm I have been a bitch because I suppose I do need a few more slaps in the face to bring me back to reality.

Again, I am terribly sorry and honestly, this makes me hate the younger me even more.

With sincere apologies,
Sue-Anne

Days remaining: 37

I am scared.

Days remaining: 41

Hahahahaha. I just noticed all the dead ants lying around (Again, ant enthusiasts, I am very sorry for my uncontrollable nature).

Feeling: Hyperactive
Listening to: We Laugh Indoors by Death Cab For Cutie

I am currently using the desktop computer I have in the living room area, and since my last use of the device, it seems to have attracted the attention of some very annoying ants (If you will please refer to an early post made here, you will understand my dislike for the creatures). Their constant moving about on the desk and mouse and other things this tiny desk has managed to accumulate has driven me to squash each and every one I see. I know, this does seem very murderous and sadistic of me, but I don't have an excuse so I guess I am very murderous and sadistic. Hence, I place here open-heartedly my apologies to ant enthusiasts out there offended by my actions.

As I was saying, I was quite enjoying myself as I thumped by palm all over the designated "ant-infested" area, taking pleasure in the pain I inflicted upon these helpless animals (Another part of my plan to take over the world), when I noticed these poor things actually left behind some kind of clear fluid after having supposedly died. And may I add, it takes more than you think to kill ants with your fingers, because you're caught in between feeling bad and not wanting to get dead ant (and dead ant juice) on your hands and realising your duty to save humankind from the insanity these insects can cause, but in the end, you always end up pushing your thumb into them more than once (and than was perhaps needed) when you notice them limping to the other side of the table. I think I have killed around twenty so far, though that number is likely to steadily increase as the day progresses.

That's all I had to say. I just felt you deserved to know that ants have liquidy things that leave their bodies when squashed. But, please, children, do not try this at home. At least not without any adult supervision. Ants can be quite fiesty and thus, dangerous.

Apart from that though, here is a link to another one of those things I cannot stop creating. :D I suppose it would be right to say I am addicted. Or obsessed at least. Ooh, I have to go. I see an ant.

Feeling: Cowardly
Listening to: Do It For The Kids by Velvet Revolver

Dear Courage,

How are you? I hope you are fine. I'm sorry the conversation we last had was far from friendly. The truth is I often wonder why you abandon me so, but then I always realise it's probably and most likely me who has abandoned you. I then start to feel terribly bad for thinking you could do such a thing, and that's when I say, with what constantly seems to be newfound zealousness and enthusiasm, "Oh, man, I am such a chicken." I disgust myself. Hence, I am writing just to let you know that none of this is your fault. In fact, it's all mine. I am very sorry. I didn't mean what I said, I was just angry, and you know how angry words aren't usually true. I do hope you accept my fruit basket as an offering of truce and that you will return home soon. Take care.

Much love and apologetic begging,
Sue-Anne (the Awesome One)

P.S. Please, let's not ever part ways again.
P.P.S. I need you too much, and I swore it wouldn't come to this (Me pleading for you to come back, showing you just how weak and vulnerable I am), but it's true.

Feeling: Dirty

I was going through old files I still kept on my laptop, and I came upon this (The thing that will follow). I don't even remember writing it, but it sounds like something I'd write, and those look like my words, and I do remember a time I could think so coldly of people, and it was accompanying a poem I wrote entitled "Those Eyes". The possibilities are endless!

Your fingers were cold, and I didn’t understand what it meant. I searched for meaning in your eyes; they always told me what wasn’t said and it made me smile, but this time, something was wrong. I looked into your eyes, begging to see what I wanted to see; what I’d seen so many times before: reassurance; truth; love. Instead, I saw nothing. Just a suffocating blank darkness – nothing. And it scared me.

I couldn’t stay there any longer. I couldn’t hold your hand for another second. It felt almost frozen against the concrete ground and I was afraid I’d snap your pretty fingers off if I squeezed them any tighter. But most of all, I couldn’t stand to stare into those empty eyes one more time. I knew that if I remained in that room, I’d upset myself even more. Uncountable thoughts filled my mind; it was all just too much, so I did the only thing I could and left.

As I sat there alone in the dark, the hurt was unbearable. I thought about the happiness and sorrow we’d been through together, but it only added to my pain. I considered crying my eyes out, and wailing out in agony, but the notion of it only made me angry at the possibility of me being that weak, so I locked those thoughts up inside and pretended there was nothing there to begin with.

Oh, the layout I was working on wouldn't work properly and as lovely as the last layout was, I thought it was about time for a change. So, this suit Broken Smile is so wonderfully wearing right now is an old thing I never intended on dressing it in. Ahehehehehehehehe.

You inspire me, pretty one.

Meaning, Escaped
The hands of time grasp,
and they grasp so tight,
so tight around the throat.
The struggle beats down,
beats down,
beats down.
The soul, so sad, so sensitive,
so very fragile and cold.
it leaves the frigid body,
it escapes, it sings.
The mind collapses,
and time, it dances,
though it meant anything but harm,
no harm,
no harm.
It meant no harm.
Let's run away together and conquer the world, like we were meant to. :]

Feeling: Interrupted
Listening to: Novella by Funeral For A Friend

There isn't anything more annoying than people who have blogs but don't update them.

Hahahahahahahahahaha.

I'm laughing because I'm like that. Hahahahaha. That would mean I am terribly hypocritical or shamelessly sarcastic or even so honest that I have no trouble confessing my flaws publicly. Don't you see the funniness? It's like a joke! Hahahaha.

Moving on, you may be seeing Broken Smile with a whole new, refreshing look! But only if Internet Explorer and Mozilla Firefox can learn to work together. Now, that's a true ordeal, but only you have the innate knowledge required to accomplish such a feat. So, what do you say? Will you do your bit for the community and save the day? Tune in tomorrow at six pee em to see how you can help, and stand a chance to win a lifetime supply of baby diapers! That's right; baby diapers! :D

Your days were golden while we bled.

Feeling: Incomplete
Listening to: Radio/Video by System Of A Down

If you only removed that shield you have around your idealistic vision of me for a while. You'd be able to tell I'm holding back feelings and thoughts by the way I exaggerate everything I say with occasional exclamation marks and the optimism I simply and carelessly distribute around your words. That's not me speaking; I don't talk like that. That's the girl who's too ashamed and a little afraid to tell you she's not what you want and maybe believe her to be.

GAAAAAAAAAAAH.

Feeling: Surprised
Listening to: Not What It Seems by Something Corporate

108 hours after most other people I know receieved their IB results, 4 and a half days after being sick of seeing the "P" for Pending on my results page, I can finally say that I have "receieved my diploma" this morning. You may want to step back a little because this is one of those times when I will most likely start laughing maniacly for various reasons I will refuse to state unless asked.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA.

Okay, okay. Fiiiiine. Since you all asked so nicely, I have decided to change my frigid mind. I'm laughing because I believe I am either very lucky or smarter than I, and my teachers thought (I'd place my bet on the first one 'cause you know, it's kind of obvious (And I'm a little koo-koo, if you know what I mean)) as I have done the "unpredictable" (I don't know what's up with the quotation marks). So, anyway, back to what I was doing.

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.

I know not everyone did as well as they expected or worked for, but the strange philosophy I live by is that everything happens for a reason, and if you didn't get what you wanted, then maybe you weren't meant to want what you wanted, and if you can't see a reason for this now, it will show itself when the time's right (It must be annoying hearing that when all you want to do is slit your wrists or evaporate into a rain cloud, but I genuinely believe things will be okay).

Feeling: Itchy
Listening to: Battle For Middle Of Earth by Air Show Disaster

They fill you up with undeserved and unrealistic expectations that always seem to end up being unfulfilled, making you wonder why you even had such strange and crazy dreams in the first place. It is, after all, simply madness to expect such things to happen, especially seeing as how far from reality they are.

They signify the horrible inevitable aging process that people in this superficial, materialistic world are bound to judge you by, and a basis with which you may see how well and how long you've survived this cold, dark world.

And I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore.

I hate birthdays. :p But that is so last Thursday.

(Peter Pan was supposed to take me to Neverland ages ago. I am very disappointed with him, but I guess that's only because I'm scared of this place I live in and the various creatures that live here. :[)

Feeling: Malnourished
Listening to: Love Love Love (Love Love) by As Tall As Lions

1. I just filled in a survey that was too long for me very meticulously.
   
2. With well-thought responses.
   
3. Requiring an abundant amount of typing.
   
4. And whatnot.
   
5. I was going to post it up here.
   
6. But then I changed my mind.
   
7. Instead, I come to you bearing chocolate.
   
8. And candy. :]
   
9. Invisible ones.
   
10. That don't really exist.
    
11. Because I made them up in my head.
    
12. They're very yummy.
    
13. Enjoy! :D

Feeling: Cosy
Listening to: Hush by Automatic Loveletter

This absolution is always incomplete, it's always bittersweet.

Are you familiar with the warm feeling you get on a rainy day, when you're snuggled up in the most comfortable clothes and watching the most soothing movie or reading the most understanding book, and you know you don't have anything important to do or anywhere important to go, and it's just really calming to know you can just absorb the day as it is? No worrying about miniscule things like how you will get to the mall or if you have enough money for lunch. It's kind of like a nice cosy feeling that nothing else can take away, and it makes you smile, how perfect it all is. :] That's how you make me feel.

I love you. Happy birthday (minus 48 hours)?

Feeling: Squiggly
Listening to: Lately by Stevie Wonder

Watch me as I perform my next step towards world domination at ISB on this Friday night between the hours of 7:30PM and 11PM (approximately). You will be amazed as I first distract my audience with my fairy-ness, and then swiftly yet destructively, while attracting my unsuspecting victims with my delicate innocence, I will strike. You will never know true fear and terror until Friday night. So, come one, come all, and bear witness to the greatest event of all time. :D

NOTE: No alcohol, weapons or drugs of any sort allowed on the premises.

However, in other news, I think it is somewhat ignorant to live one's life as if everything it consists of is simply routine (That took me a while to phrase correctly, and yet, I still can't help feel that it doesn't quite express what I truly mean).

Feeling: Tired
Listening to: November by Silverstein

Taking over the world sure takes up a lot of energy. But don't fear, for despite my busy, busy, busy (and hectic) schedule (which is filled to the brim with important events and meetings, by the way), I have sacrificed a few steps towards world domination to make time to inform my loyal fans about the happenings in the life of this very amazing moose (that's me, if you couldn't tell. I'm amazing. That was the hint). Sure, it may set me back months (possibly even years. Or decades), but keeping my readers and stalkers in my circle of information is more important than my dreams and life goals.

So, my minions, let me tell you of the adventures I have recently had: Yesterday, I devised the most perfect plan to take over the world. Hence, I am currently in my mother's workplace "filing", as they say. Little do the other office workers know, they are all actually indirectly aiding in my inevitable control of the business, which will bring me one step closer to controlling the country, which will also bring me one step closer to controlling the world, and perhaps even the universe if I'm lucky. NGAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

But other than that, I've had to maintain my disguise as an average (yet indubitably awesome) teenage girl by attending a so-called "prom" for ISB's IB class of 2006-2008 the other night where people, such as myself (I'm sorry if that confused you; I must keep in character as a "human being") dressed themselves in clothes of strange yet intriguing fashion. It seemed as if they did it as some form of entertainment, but other meaningless earthly purposes are also possible explanations. To prove such radical behaviour exists (and I understand how it can be quite unbelievable at first), I shall present to you a picture of myself in human form with these people, after this sentence is completed.


Man, I love brackets (I may be, in fact, obsessed with them, but that's a matter for another time and place).

So, like. Totally. *Giggles.

Feeling: Lonely
Listening to: Milligram Smile by From Autumn To Ashes

I'll be back on the fifth of June, okay (That doesn't mean I will update Broken Smile though, because I like to be mysterious and predictably unpredictable)? The location of my disappearing shall be left a secret, however, for it is only revealed to those worthy of the knowledge, and apparently, you are not worthy of the knowledge (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Loser).

You can thank me later. :D

On the down side, I will miss Azmin an awful fucking lot. With every rose comes a thorn, I guess. That's what they say, right? Wait. No, they don't. They don't say that. Which means I just made it up. Which means you may quote me. With proper referencing, of course.

Feeling: Interesting
Listening to: Hurt by Johnny Cash

This song's sad, and the simplicity of the music in addition to Johnny Cash's already solemn voice just makes it all the more sad.

Hurt by Johnny Cash
I hurt myself today
to see if I still feel.
I focus on the pain -
the only thing that's real.
The needle tears a hole,
the old familiar sting.
Try to kill it all away,
but I remember everything.
What have I become,
my sweetest friend?
Everyone I know goes away
in the end.
And you could have it all:
my empire of dirt.
I will let you down,
I will make you hurt.
I wear this crown of thorns
upon my liar's chair.
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair.
Beneath the stains of time,
the feelings disappear.
You are someone else;
I am still right here.
What have I become,
my sweetest friend?
Everyone I know goes away
in the end.
And you could have it all:
my empire of dirt.
I will let you down,
I will make you hurt.
If I could start again,
a million miles away,
I would keep myself,
I would find a way.

Well. It's been a while since I felt I could go online and do time-wasting things, such as reading comics and blogs of people I don't know, without feeling like there's something more important I should be doing. So, hello, temporary freedom. I think I like you. :]

Feeling: Excited
Listening to: Alvin Maker's Greensong by The Scene Aesthetic

One of those things I talked about.

Prayer Before Birth by Louis MacNeice
I am not yet born: O hear me.
Let not the bloodsucking bat or the rat or the stoat or
the cub-footed ghoul come near me.

I am not yet born: console me.
I fear that the human race may with tall walls wall me,
with strong drugs dope me, with wise lies lure me,
on black racks rack me, in blood-baths roll me.

I am not yet born: provide me
With water to dandle me, grass to grow for me, tree to talk
to me, sky to sing to me, birds and a white light
in the back of my mind to guide me.

I am not yet born: forgive me
For the sins that in me the world shall commit, my words
when they speak me, my thoughts when they think me,
my treason engendered by traitors beyond me,
my life when they murder by means of me
hands, my death when they live me.

I am not yet born: rehearse me
In the parts I must play and the cues I must take when
old men lecture me, bureaucrats hector me,
mountains frown on me, lovers laugh at me, the
white waves call me to folly and the desert calls
me to doom and the beggar refuses
my gift and my children curse me.

I am not yet born: O hear me,
Let not the man who is beast or who thinks he is God
come near me.

I am not yet born: O fill me
With strength against those who would freeze my
humanity, would dragoon me into a lethal automaton,
would make me a cog in a machine, a thing with
one face, a thing, and against all those
who would dissipate my entirety, would
blow me like thistledown hither and
thither or hither and thither
like water hekd in the
hands would spill me.

Let them not make a stone and let them not spill me.
Otherwise kill me.
Which reminds me of the new countdown I've started. Mehehehe.

Days remaining: 8

P.S. I'm thinking of you, Mr. Make-Me-Happy. But you already knew that. :]

Feeling: Hopeless

As I've re-realized recently, there are a lot of sad things that could happen in one's life, each of which's encounter could bring us to tears and question the Maker's plans, but for fuck's sake. Is there really nothing left of the goodness I thought there was in humanity?

How can a person actually do this?

Click and click, but in case you don't want to because you're a rebel and all that jazz, continue:

Elisabeth Fritzl was forced to help build the dungeon where she was kept by her sadistic father Josef, it emerged yesterday. For the first nine months of her 24 years in captivity, she was also tethered with a 5ft dog leash around her neck to prevent her escape. Elisabeth, now 42, had been sexually abused by her father since the age of 11. She ran away from home at the age of 16 but was dragged back by Fritzl and locked up when he suspected she was planning to leave again.

For the first nine years, he imprisoned her in a grim 15ft by 15ft box room which had a makeshift toilet in one corner. She told police that Fritzl forced her to help drag a 600lb concrete and steel door into position to seal the dungeon. It was only when it was in place that she discovered she had helped to build her own prison.

Fritzl finally agreed to expand the cellar - again with Elisabeth's help - after she had given birth to two of his children.He forced her to dig out the chambers by hand, working for hours at a time. The process took nearly a decade. One of the new rooms was used as a punishment area and Fritzl would take his daughter there and rape her. He also used it to chastise the three of their children - Kerstin, 19, Stefan, 18, and six-year-old Felix - who lived underground with her. Their siblings Lisa, 16, Monika, 14 and 12-year-old Alexander lived a 'normal' life upstairs.

Franz Polzer, who is leading the police investigation, said: "She said that there was only one single room at first between 1984 and 1993. The dungeon was expanded as the children were getting born. There are still areas we haven't found inside the dungeon and I expect it to take at least two weeks before we have answered all the questions we need to about how Fritzl controlled the areas and imprisoned the children. Areas of the dungeon appear to have been under construction and it is possible Fritzl may have been planning to expand it even further." Austrian police said the air inside the inner chambers was so stifling they have been forced to drill holes to allow investigators to breathe.

In police interviews, Elisabeth said that at the start she had fought against the imprisonment, banging on the walls and screaming until she could no longer speak, but no one had come as the weeks turned into months, and the years into decades. She said she had eventually stopped arguing with her father who in turn had stopped beating her as frequently. Eventually she had become pregnant with Kerstin, now 19, and she had informed her father - fearing that he would be furious because he would now have to release her to go to hospital. He had reportedly replied: "Do not think you are getting away from me so easily."

Details of the birth have not been spoken about by Elisabeth but afterwards Fritzl had continued to return frequently for more sex, at least once every three days. After Kerstin there were further children, Stefan, 18, Lisa, 16 Monika, 15, Alexander, 12, whose twin brother died from neglect before he could even be given a name, and finally Felix, 6.

:[

Hence, it reminded me of something I wrote on the 20th of March when I was angry at the world and also sad at the fact of life we must live with (That assholes exist), and somehow, I could just plop it into this situation as if it were meant for it. So here it is (It wasn't meant to be a poem, but I guess thoughts can be poems too, if you want them to be).

A Commentary
It's sad.
How a person can steal another person's soul,
torture it,
stretch it to it's utmost limits and then some.
How a human being can have the will,
the indecency
to cause such pain and torment to another.
It is utterly and absolutely
horrifying.
To discover the true nature of our existance
and realize the degree of evil we can commit,
enough to cause the total damnation of one's wellbeing,
the destruction that could tear you
to pieces.
How someone can treat another
so badly,
and in a way that even they themselves would not wish upon their individual understanding of
life.
I simply cannot understand it.
Are we destined to fail?
Destined to abolish,
to eradicate
any kind of hope left in the world?
♥

Feeling: Scared
Listening to: Coffee by Copeland

I know I'm supposedly not meant to be online at the moment, but due to unforeseen circumstances that consists of me discovering a bunch of poems I have grown attached to and that I will reveal to you in due time, I join you once again on this cold, dark night, just to say hello.

Sonnet 116 by William Shakespeare
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments, love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds.
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempest and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken,
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Wihin his bending sickle's compass come,
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom:
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Hello.

Days remaining: 3