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Like a nervous heart that is crazy beating.
The little things you do to me are taking me over.
I wanna show you everything inside of me,
Like a nervous heart that is crazy beating.
My feet are stuck here against the pavement.
I wanna break free.
I wanna make it closer to your eyes.
Get your attention before you pass me by.
Back up, back up,
Take another chance.
Don't you mess up, mess up.
I don't wanna lose you.
Wake up, wake up.
This ain't just a thing that you,
Give up, give up.
Don't just say that I'd be better off.
Better off sitting by myself wondering,
If I'm better off, better off without you boy.
And every time you notice me,
By holding me closely and saying sweet things,
I don't believe that it could be,
You speakin' your mind and saying the real thing.
My feet have broke free and I'm leaving.
I'm not gonna stand here feeling lonely but I don't regret it,
And I don't think it was just a waste of time.
The little things you do to me are taking me over.
I wanna show you everything inside of me,
Like a nervous heart that is crazy beating.
My feet are stuck here against the pavement.
I wanna break free.
I wanna make it closer to your eyes.
Get your attention before you pass me by.
[disclaimer: this is grammatically correct angst]
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i can't be who you are
time out if everyone's worth pleasing
Hi everyone, my name’s Hannah. And I’m pretty sure you can tell that is all fairly grammatically-correct teenage angst. I swear that I’ll try to keep it to a minimum but hey, that’s what I do best.
I’m a spinner of stories and a compulsive sketcher. Sometimes, I attempt to write poetry. But my visual artistic endeavours can been seen at my deviantart. The link’s there if you want it. Digital art isn’t really my forte.
I like reading and writing, and that’s obvious by the occasional use of vocabulary that’s far beyond that of my peers. Some of them anyway, and the others who outclass me. I try not to rely on people but I need my friends more than anyone else in the world.
So read these words that make up coherent teenage angst. Go on, I dare you.
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friends
alia (private blog)
alia (public blog)
alya
charz
eman
hakeem
howie
lisa
sazz
sophie
syazren
vivian
zack
zoe
credits
layout: (supervillain)
codings: inksplash
inspirations: minty-peach
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Tuesday, June 24, 2008 @12:35 AM
#96
Yes, I'm happy.
No, I'm not so over-the-top emo now. I don't feel melodramatic.
Unless you count me being ecstatic as dramatic
Sunday, June 22, 2008 @10:39 PM
#95 emo love, oh emo love. how I hate you, emo love.
music: Best Mistake - JamisonParker
You are
The one that makes my heart beat
Faster, faster
The one who doesn't see
Me die a little more
Every day.
You are
My first and last thoughts of the day
The one who
Drives me crazy in the worst way
But strangely
I don't mind, really
Even though
Doing this will probably kill me
I'm not going to say
A word
#94 heard about the heartache?
music: Kill The Messenger - Jack's Mannequin
Maybe, I'm just feeling bad because I wasn't invited to the latest huge party. Or maybe, this crush - this dualistic crush is actually getting to me. Or maybe it's just the stress and anxiety of competing in PoetrySlam KL. Whatever it is, I don't feel so great. I am angst. I am a ball of angst. And a ball of angst is something that isn't so fun to be around.
I'll address these problems - no, more like issues, really - in an ordered list because that's essentially the only way I'm going to be able to sleep tonight. Unless I do three sets of science past year exam questions and completely tire myself out.
1. Huge Party.
- You know, I shouldn't even be addressing this. No, I shouldn't. This is petty, this is not worth mentioning, not worth letting it get to me. Even if it seems like every single person I know, all of my friends have been invited and all of them went.
Okay, I'm stopping now.
2. Crush
- I CAN'T TELL HIM I LIKE HIM. No, seriously. Telling him is suicide. Not telling him guarantees me a possible sanctuary in terms of social standing (i.e: my status staying exactly where it's been for the past six months), me never having to confront his set of friends about this (if they found out, I'd be dead and having to see people I haven't talked to in two years. I intend to keep it that way) and...uh, yeah. That's about it.
I still really like him though.
3. PoetrySlam KL
I have only two poems. I need to perform three. ACK.
Saturday, June 14, 2008 @12:49 AM
#93
Will be posting a little more on my new LJ.
http://painteddead.livejournal.com
Visit, thanks.
Sunday, June 8, 2008 @12:27 AM
#92 alternate universes and out of character
music: The Music Or The Misery - Fall Out Boy
I'm casually obsessed and I've forgiven death
I am indifferent, yet (I am a total wreck)
I'm every cliche, but I simply do it best
My thoughts are erratic and let me take a moment to calm down and collect them.
I crave warmth and security. The physical feeling of being next to someone, being held by someone and knowing that they won’t judge you, that they won’t hurt you, that they’re just there for you – I miss that. I need that. Physical affection. Not that I want intimacy or I’m going to whore myself out to everyone but I miss it. And honestly, there aren’t that many people who are willing to put up with a clingy, melodramatic teenager. Even other melodramatic teenagers.
I’m angry and I’m frustrated. I feel like screaming most of the time, and I’m tearing myself apart from the inside. I don’t like faking happy but it’s what I do. There’s nothing much else I can actually do if I don’t want my parents to find out. So I do my makeup, I obsess about clothes and boys, I blush and stutter and smile – like any other teenager, and that’s my routine.
So I smile. And everyone says I'm the 'nice one' out of me and my sister. The vaguely angelic one. The happy one. I'll be part-timing by the end of the year and basically, I've gotten everything I wanted. To be in favour with my mother. I hate myself for it. I finally have a good working relationship with her but the way I got here is just...argh. I'm a horrible person.
Fake fake fake fake fake fake fake. A hypocrite and a liar. Oh, my life is such a parody, such a farce that I doubt I'm even acting anymore. I'm the person I hate being.
I looked at a razor blade today, and thought about it vaguely. Then I laughed because that was the person I used to be and the small scar on my forearm's the reminder. God, I was an emo in the worst sense of the word, wasn't I? Still am, I guess.
Saturday, June 7, 2008 @12:08 AM
#91 she knows you're a liar
music: Buried Alive By Love - HIM
I hate him.
What he does is whore himself out to every single girl he see, the obnoxious bastard. I can’t wait to see him fall and fail because when that day comes, I’ll be watching. He’s called me a slut since February, and do you know how that feels? I’ve been smiling; laughing it off like it’s nothing. I’ve been humiliated. In front of my entire class. He calls me a slut every day - has been since around February. I just have to close my eyes and I’m already imagining gouging his eyes out with a spoon. It’s already fucking torture talking to him. Just being acquainted with him annoys me. And I can't do anything about it because everyone expects me to be friends with him because I work in the library and I’ve got the bad luck to sit next to him. Yeah. Sure. There are people who know how it feels to have expectations pushed on them. I deflect them to the best of my abilities but still. I can’t take it anymore.
I want him out of my life. Stat.
But I can't get rid of him. Not that I've tried. Maybe I do care. Care about the way people see me, that is. That was the way I’ve been trained. God – that makes me sound like a trained seal, right? Guess that's all I’ve been raised to do. But evidently, I’m neither. If I’m nice to him - I’m a nerd. If I’m indifferent - I’m a robot. If I don't talk to him - I’m a bitch. I can't win.
And he’s not the only thing bothering me. It’s him, it's the family, and it’s all the pressure at home. It’s all these little miscellaneous things. And it's because people rub it in that either they HAVE a love life or I don't have one. Or they ask me WHY I don't have one. Ack. I don't know. You hear how I’m always saying I don't know anymore? I’m confused because every time people hear me angst, I get whacked for it.
I just don’t know anymore. I'm very bitter, very frustrated and angry. I can't begin to describe about how angry I am. I want - no, need to break something. Or curl up and die but that's hardly defying stereotypes, right?
Friday, June 6, 2008 @11:11 PM
#90 i used to waste my time dreaming on being alive
music: Of All The Gin Joints In The World - Fall Out Boy
God. I feel like a fraud. A very, very repressed fraud.
I'm getting irritated with everyone, anyone. I get agitated, and annoyed and offended too easily. I feel like strangling someone. And I feel alone. Alone like no one understands. I want to stomp around like an angry teenager or shoot everyone dead. Oh yeah, dead. That would be a pretty sight.
I can't begin to describe how angry I'm feeling. Usually, I'm relatively easy-going. But I'm feeling too stretched, like an over-stretched rubber band. I'm ready to snap. Maybe, I just want something to be happy about - something that I can be self-centred about. Something I can feel selfish and possessive about and not feel guilty.
I could blame it to having no significant other, but that's only because everyone either rubs it in my face or makes fun of me because of it. I can either be emo about it and threaten everyone that I'll slit my wrists or I'll just shut up about it and not say a thing.
I'll pick the latter. Easier that way, I suppose.
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