McHello,

I got a cold there and the notion of school ain't helping.
But you know what is? The promise that I made to myself in August that no matter how much I have to study, or how much homework I get, I will always find time to write my stupid little Harry Potter fanfictions.

I haven't been very keen on keeping my promise the last two weeks, but here I am with a cold, finding solace in nothing but the softness of the keys on my keyboard as I type. Word by word, sentence by sentence, and I couldn't be happier than in the imaginary world I create for myself.

I've learned that a passion for writing should not be dismissed nonchalantly, it should be embraced. The inspiration doesn't come often and when it does I usually waved it away. Now I know that it should be valued, for it is not something you can summon, and it is not something you can clutch to your chest when it is leaving. It comes and goes to its own liking. For years I've been ignoring that constant ache and giddiness to lift a pen and scribble something to a page, that inspiration came rarer and rarer.

But thankfully, in August I learned to stop everything I'm doing and hurry to write if need be.

So here I am, kind of bragging about it I guess, but I write Harry Potter fanfictions, with Hermione/Draco pairings. Nothing special, you say, but it does enough to satisfy the writers' hunger to have something written. I have no doubt, no matter how cocky this sounds, that I will be writing more than fanfics soon, this is just for practice.

Twixt that, I have to admit school has been throwing me off the loop. I didn't get enough sleep, I did homework the first thing I came home, and homework was the last thing I saw before I dozed off. But everything is bound to change, I swear, it just gotta.

-SneezE-

Excuse me.

So anyway, thank you for reading this nonsensical post and for supporting me even if you don't, I just ain't in the mood, so I'll be off to look for the cure to a running nose and a dry cough.

Bye, bye!
♥

Oh my!
It feels so good to be back after a phase when writing stopped making me happy.
So much has changed... I have changed.

I'm sorry for the inconvenience my depression has caused, and beforehand apologize if I came back somewhat different than you expected.

It's the first ever summer that I'm spending home alone watching movies. I honestly don't remember when was the last time I went out of the house. When I do, I don't last outside even for half an hour. I just can't be among people. Call me a loner.

To be honest, taking a break from a 'public' diary was necessary...To find myself, to find my way, to change.
And it worked, I'm fine, I've grown up, I'm a ray of a fucking sunshine and I'm going to be fine.
Life is beautiful, all of you are beautiful.

Yours always,
Kristine! ♥

Hellow.
Non happenings that could stay in my memory for long, but emotionally - some things hurt. And so now my hurt soul is leaking through my eyelashes. I hate it. I hate my mother. (no, i don't say iļl regret these words, because i usually regret when I say i don't hate her). I hate my so-called friend. I hate my so-called life. I hate my so-called friend 3000 km away.
1. i hate my friend here, in ireland, because she's the opposite of empathetic. she loves to talk, but never listens. if it seems that she does - it's fake. it turns out she calls everyone her "new sis". oh, how she loves to play with people.
how i hate when i always realise that a better friend than the one i left in latvia, will never come.

2. i regret that i said i hate my mum - i was supposed to have a sleepover with "my new sis" this saturday. but my mum's fucking boyfriend comes every weekend. wish they both died. but i'm thankful she gave me a good reason why my "sis" can't come to my house for a sleepover. mum banned it on weekend because on weekends she's fucking like a horse all day. and sleepovers only happen on weekends, which means they will never happen in my house. nor out of my house (it was banned from the start).

no, wait.  still do hate my mum.

3. Longer story. I have 2 friends in latvia. I really miss them, especially one of them. The other one, how it turns out, is obsessed with being friends with popular girls. It was always so. So, we forgave her the last time. But history is repeating. Now my other friend is all on her own, because the bitchy one...Wll, I can read her like an open book - she lies, asks for forgiveness, never means it, lies again. I know her since I was 4. Next time I will never forgive or trust her, I promised my best friend.

I hate acting like a typical teenager, when I feel much worse, I'm just too mad to show it. I want to write a real diary, like I did just a month ago, but I didn't save enough to buy a really good one, that is worth it.

I reread what i wrote and don't feel like I even wrote it. That's another thing I should work on. Now I'll just go and write my story or watch The Vampire Diaries first. Will decide on my way.


Mood:  miserable, undescribable (like always)
Wearing: mickey mouse pyjamas
Hair: dirty & messy
Make up: non existant

Hi. I'm Kristine and I'm damaged, sick and misunderstood (often - by my self). I self inflict my sadness and misery and it already feels normal. I understand people saying to me "Aren't you too young to...?". I would do the same, but I hate it. It might be self inflicted, but it's there. And it hurts. It hurts that I'm too young for all that crap, but I just can't change the way I think. If I was given a chance to go back and change it - I wouldn't know where to go, because I don't reckon what changed me this way. Life is crappy, it has been so before and after I came to Ireland, but no specific moments where I remember and click "That's it, if this wasn't done, I would be still an undamaged 13 year old". In fact that I'm not even 13 yet. If I remembered what ruined me too young, would I be able to unleash it and start thinking like a person my age should? I don't think so. And that what hurts the most - what will I be in a few years, if I am already thinking of suicide, because my imagination isn't big enough to self inflict happiness same as I self inflict depression? All I can do, is sit there in self pity and confess to the world, when the world only wants too make it worse, not better. All I can do is complain how everything I write isn't even a fraction of what I'm feeling. I don't even know what I'm feeling anymore. I don't know what I want. I don't know what I have. I don't know if i'm able to cope with this anymore, when it doesn't even have a name. I have this feeling mum wants to take me to the psychologist.
When will this ever stop? When will it change to normal, though it has never been normal before? I've never felt like it is right, and I should stay on that rightness. But I'm wrong. I'm sitting there in my wrongness and keep being wrong. I honestly and seriously don't think I'm sane. Was I ever? Will I ever be?
There is this girl I talk to, because we have so many common things in mental sense. But if I told her the full stories all the time, she probably wouldn't even look at me again.
Why?
Why?
Why?

Hello.

This week passed so fast. Maybe because I missed monday, spent it at home. I have my rights to. Ok, I don't, but my mum let me stay so everything was fine. Got over my period.
Next week is Christmas talent show auditions. I want to go so badly, but I cant get over my self. Can't grab the confidence adn carry it. What if i don't get chosen? many people, who were judges, will look down on me, because i probably am tone deaf? if i get picked, i wouldn't be able to go on the stage and probably forget the words or lose rhytm and collapse or faint in fron of 800 students. what should i do, if i want to do it but am scared.

other news - did i ever say i want to be a writer? well, i do. i write since i was seven or so. well, i still do extra english, even though teacher says, if my essays get checked, i'll have to hide, because i'm on a higher level than those who's english is their first language. today teacher was correcting my essay "what frightens me?" and she was shocked. she held her head in her hands, whispering " this piece is incredible. you are better than those who sell over 100000 of novels." and turned to me and said " but this is piece is very depressive, either way, it makes an impression of a 25 year old depressed person. ad how old are you, 12...13?"
she asked me wheather i have a difficult life or problems in family. i said no. and smiled warily. and i know she noticed the fakeness of my smile. this is why i always liked this teacher, she understands me. always did. she wanted my english teacher to read it. "you have a talent of a writer. 12 years old girl. impressive."

i was, honestly more embarrased and regretful, than proud. now every teacher's gonna think i'm depressed. i mean, i am. but they know. it makes it even worth. them - looking down on me. fuck this essay. fuck me. i regret i ever took the pen into my hand to write that essay.


going downtown tomorrow with eva [didnt tell you about my friends didn't i? no, i don't change them often - they came into my life lastmonth, but we're really close. eva, eva, anna, sujata, justina]

if you want a copy of my essay that impressed my english teacher so much, just comment.

thanks.
bye.