they say you don't know what you got 'til it's gone / / they say that your darkest hour comes before your dawn

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Love/Hate relationshp;

I hate birds. Haaaaaaate. I hate their beady little eyes. I hate their squawks. I hate the flapping sounds of their wings. I hate their creepy alien-like tongues. I hate the way they eat. I hate the way they poop on everything. I hate the way Seagulls hang around me at the beach. I hate how Swans make that terribly frightening noise when they come near you. I hate the way Ducks snap at the bread you feed them.
Yet, my blog background is of birds. And I like Owls and Peacocks because they're pretty looking birds. And I like bird cages as decorations. And feeding Ducks at ponds reminds me of my best friend, Celeste.

I hate whistling. Haaaaaaaaaaaate. Even more than birds. It's the #1 most annoying sound in the world. Babies crying is a gentle melody in comparison to whistling. The moment I hear someone whistle, I want to tear them to shreds. And it's not because I can't whistle, because I actually can - it's because it reminds me of my father, who I have a burning hatred for.
Yet, there are times where I momentarily forget that I hate whistling, and do it myself. That's when I want to kill myself most.

I hate the way I put so much effort into looking good when Michael and I go out. Haaaaate. I hate the way I feel the need to spend an hour straightening my hair, and then another hour doing my make up. I hate the way I'll change outfits several billion times during the day just so I can pick the outfit that shows off my body best. I hate the way I feel like there's going to be some petty competition between myself and any other girl at the same place. I hate the way I pick on my body for flaws that aren't even there. I hate the way I envy other girls who really do look better than me. I hate the fact that part of me wants to be the centre of attention every time I go out. I hate that part of me takes pleasure in receiving compliments from everyone.
Yet, I dislike being the centre of attention for any other reason. And I don't actually know how to respond to compliments when I get them, except for saying "Thank you." Even still, I continue to doll myself up every time we go somewhere.

I hate the way I want to be a writer. Haaaaaate. I hate that I'm too afraid to start seriously writing something because it means letting other people read it. I hate that I'm afraid of constructive criticism and fear that people will be "nice and gentle" with their criticism as to not hurt my feelings. I hate that I take it so personally, and that I feel so attached to the things I write. I hate that it's the only creative flair that I have, and therefore need to use it or lose it.
And yet, here I am; pouring out my heart and soul on this stupid blog that'll probably go nowhere. All because I'm too afraid.

EDIT: I also hate peanuts. Haaaaaaaate. I hate satay sauce with my dinner. I had crushed up peanuts on my sundaes. I hate peanuts in my fruit and nut bars. I hate peanuts in every way, shape and form.
Yet, I find myself capable of eating sugar coated peanuts. 

What the fuck is wrong with me ?! I am a walking contradiction.

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