i've decided that since i can't stay up until 4am again i'll compile a giant list of things i can't stand and a giant list of things i can't help but love and possibly more lists. i'm lame like that. i have a lot of spare time in which i should be revising buttt instead i am making lists. endless, inexhaustible lists. lists of fun. and obsession.
i hate incorrectly used apostrophes, shutter shades, fake ugg boots, real ugg boots, pvc leggings = pvc cameltoe, odd socks, liars, people who fake stupidity, neon legwarmers, armwarmers, color-coordinating obsessively, sugarysweet cocktails, avocados, sun-dried tomatoes, girls in groups all wearing white jeans and different coloured primark tops, fake HOH-like shirts, boyfriend jeans with plimsolls, people who display all their personal problems on facebook; if they meant so much they wouldn't be out on show; anything from JD sports, people who drink WKD, shorts&oxfords&headband combos, people's arsecracks showing, people's bras popping out from their tops, topshop slaves, cunts, too-tight tops, fishnet kneesocks, leggings as trousers, mindless sheep, rah girls, fringe leggings, coloured skinnies, tango tan girls, over-tousled hair, brightly coloured lipstick, the ridiculously colloquial slang of today, seeing the arses of people who can't pull their jeans up and people licking each others faces.
erm. there's more somewhere.
i hate being told that i'll get ink poisoning from my doodles - i won't. fuck off.
girls who pretend to have class; i don't, why should you? people who smoke three tokes of a cigarette and chuck it, people who point out barely-smoked cigarettes on the floor to me, not inhaling, finding that you sat on your grettes and they're now broken, people who pretend to be innocent and clean, complete sluts, "nude", crocs, scene hair, harem pants, peplum skirts, open-heeled shoes [wtf], head-to-toe band merchandise, overtrending, fat people who dress like they're thin, visible extension tracks, people who try and force their religion on people, people who won't stop talking, people who don't talk enough. stingy cunts who won't lend you 10p when that's all that's between you and nicotine, chipping freshly painted nail polish, breaking sunglasses, scenies, teenies, false advertising, insignificant and typical tattoos of stars/names of significant others/something fucking stupid, itchy wrists, itchy shins, itchy anything, hair that won't dry properly, when you don't have anywhere to put your clothes, when you start crying because you're so angry, matching shoes, belt, bag and eyeliner, scrunched gel hair, people who get piercings that they don't know the names of and the horrible sound of some-one trying to pretend they're not crying.
you see, i am a deeply intolerant person.
i love my friends, scrubs, house, futurama, skinny jeans, marlboro reds, miniscule skirts, really tight dresses, budweiser, heineken and stella artois, late night, all-nighters, wake and bake, maryjane, beautiful people you walk past in the street, moments like the ones that you and i remember together, redbull, FML, INO, postsecret, doing the dishes at other people's houses, sleepovers, buttered popcorn, movie nights in, drunk nights out, poker games at becky's, garden parties at the g's, limousines, chrysanthemums, xanga, freak kitchen, chris rock, photo albums, shredded t-shirts, summer nights, sunrises, skype with monique, old friends, LKF, the fact that allegra versace no longer looks so skeletal, lookbook
this is from GCSE. nothing's changed, really. i'm still lonely and i'm still so painfully anxious about everything it's crippling me. actually, things have changed. i'm no longer in the grasp of my ED which is not looking like a positive right now. i don't cut anymore which means i end up eating my feelings. at the height of my ED, my highest weight was 130, lowest 108. i'm about 140 pounds right now. i'm disgusting. how long ago this seems and how i wish i was there again. that's terrible, isn't it?