A Stab in Your Heart

Title: [A Stab in Your Heart] . . . Doesn't Hurt as Much as Watching A Stab in Your Friends' Hearts.
You know, I HATE people who talk badly of my friends. Joking around with my friends that we're weird isn't the same as other people calling us weird. Joking to other people that my friends are weird is different from when other people seriously calling us weird. So what if we're different? Are you the fudging same as everyone else? You saying that you're a perfectly normal child? What the heck is a normal child, huh? What's average, huh? If you aren't "normal" either, then what the h--- you babbling about? Are you complaining about yourself now, you moron? If we do something that you think is "weird", what's your point? Going to do something about it? If you aren't going to do something about it, then shut the f--- up. You can't even do anything to change how people act anyways. Are you going to kill us? If you aren't, then go back to shutting the f--- up. You think other things are weird or dumb or creepy from your different perspective, and I don't care if you sound out your opinion. This book could suck in your opinion (And ouch, burn as a fellow author. People could have spend months or even years writing that). This song could sound weird in your ears. This picture can be seen in a different light than mine. You can f---ing call me weird behind my back or spit it in my face, and you know what? I don't care. I may get offended from time to time, I may get angry or hurt. But this is different. Insulting my friends is more than saying your stupid opinion to me. And if anyone makes fun of my friends, I'LL KICK THEIR A--!

From the Child

Some friends of my family are staying over at my house for the weekend (at least I think that's how long they're staying) from Phoenix. And today, my house is lively with a small child at the age of two, running around the house. Tong Wen AiYi (Aunt* Tong Wen) and Wang Jing ShuShu (Uncle* Wang Jing) brought their child, Kevin, who is going to turn three in March. He's so cute, just running about. Sadly for me, his Chinese is better than mine. Ouch. Well, whatever, my Chinese sucks compared to most Chinese-learning students. Usually because I don't study or anything except for cram sessions before mid and finals.
*In case you didn't know, the Chinese call adults that are close to your family, "aunt" or "uncle", even though they aren't related.
Unfortunately, this blog post isn't going to be cheery, as most of my posts aren't. I was distracted from my math homework and from the bathroom, I heard Tong Wen AiYi talking to little Kevin. She scolded him lightly because he was acting recklessly, and she wanted to make sure he wouldn't hurt himself. Kevin giggled and seemed to listen. Then his mother laughed, too, and I zoned out of their lives. I was listening to "Poker Face" by Lady Gaga, and thought about the lyrics briefly, knowing the vulgar meaning behind the catchy tune. Then I started to drift away into thought. When do parents go from the openly caring and tender people who raised us in their arms, to the parents who'd scold us and pressure us for our future? When do we go from the obeying child to developed a mind of a rebellious one? When did we start to challenge our parents or backtalk to them in our minds? When did we start to think that our parents didn't care for us? Of course, everyone's cases are different. Maybe some people's parents weren't as loving as other, or expressed it as clearly. Maybe some people's parents are still open with their feelings of love towards their child. Maybe. My history teacher, who also teaches psychology said that maybe people were born to have certain characteristics. That we don't become the people we are purely because of the people around us, but from when we start developing in our mother's womb. Some babies behave better than others, whereas some babies are fussy and hard to handle. Of course the people around us effect the person we'll grow to become, the things we see, we hear. It's a pity how the bad seeds ruin the whole batch somehow. I'll a little grateful that I cherish promises and that my sister made me promise her not to curse. Because maybe I wouldn't be the person I am today, just from a few words added to my vocabulary. It also makes me different. I'm not afriad anymore to believe in things that other people don't. My likes and dislikes, my morals, they're unique to my person. I wonder how much of who I am reflects back to before I was born. Was I meant to end up this way? At this point of life? Who will I come to be in the future? Will I continue believing the same things? Or will influences change who I am now? Who am I now?

It's Worse for Me

I just want to angrily rant about a friend of mine (I'll probably stay up all night doing homework now). So today he was being dumb and hurt his arm. Online, I sent an instant message asking how was his arm, because it was bleeding rather bad. He said it was okay, but it hurt when he moved his forearm. I said, "I see" and he asked, "Do you really now?" Then he had to go into the whole pessimist mode, saying how nobody understands the extent of his injuries. WHAT THE H--- IS THAT? He ranted a list of things that happened to him, "I've sprained my left knee twice, scraped both knees until they bled profusely, burned three fingers by touching an iron, had to use crutches for my knee, had my hand crushed in an elevator when I was three" then he challengingly said, "Need I continue?" That just ticked me off. Sure, it sounds painful, all of that, but to say nobody understands the extent of his pains? I don't know why but that just infuriates me. I think I have an issue with people thinking I don't understand how they feel. Anyhow, I just got freaking ticked at him and ranted, "So? What makes you think that no one else is in pain? Do you think everyone is living in this fantasy that you aren't living in? Let me tell you, yeah, you've been in some pretty bad incidents, and yeah, you're probably been in lots of pain, but don't assume that no one else can even imagine what you've gone through, because a lot of us has been in a bunch of s---, that you don't know anything about how we felt or what we experienced." As I wrote that, I thought about my injury history. I burned my little finger on accident when I was a child; wooden boards fell on my foot, crushing my toenails inwards and making it bleed; getting hit in the eye by the corner of the locker door, damaging it a little; scraped my leg on the escalate (One foot was on the moving floor, and the other wasn't, therefore the toothed edge of the escalated scrapped against my leg. Obviously, I wasn't a very bright child.); and other little insignificant things in my life where I have hurt myself. For the most part, I kept my hands to myself, tried to stay out of trouble, and followed my parents to wherever they took me.
I haven't many other significantly troubling events happen in my life. Yeah, my life IS good compared to most. My sister didn't do drugs, my ex didn't get shot, my friend didn't get in a car crash and is in the hospital getting surgery, none of my relatives or friends have died from an accident, my family isn't poor, I get an education, I get fed three meals a day, I have more clothes then I can remember to wear, and you know, all my problems are over dramatized because I hate to hear people tell me that my life is perfect. People tell me I'm pretty, skinny, smart, and just overly perfect. If I could tear off my face and give it to you, I would. If I could trade bodies with you, I would. If I could give you whatever intelligence you think I have, I'd give it to you. If you want my life, you can have it if you can take it. I don't care if I'm ugly, fat, dumb, or suffering (probably wouldn't say that when I'm in pain, but I say it now). Take everything I have, d--- it, because I hate living some stupid, "perfect" life I have. Besides trying to help others and trying to protect my beliefs, I don't have much I'm living for. It's so ridiculous how I wished I had a worse life so other people won't feel like their life sucks in comparison to me. It's so stupid how I wished I had a worse life because I want to experience to what extent of other people's pains are. It's so dumb of me to wish that I have a worse life so I . . .

Elderly Pains?

I've realized I seem to be on better terms with my parents lately. I don't know, I guess we talk more, mostly about school, but it's an improvement from not talking. Except I feel like I'm really cold towards some of my friends, depending a lot on my mood and what we're talking about I guess.
And geez, my hands, arms, and neck are killing me. So when I write or type, it's like the bones of my hand ache. I can't hold them straight either, like if I want to put my hand on the table, my palms hurt, and sometimes my wrist. When I rotate my arm sometimes, I swear, it's like a creaking door, as if the bones were rubbing against each other (my knee does that, too, but it doesn't hurt at least). Not to mention, when it's cold or something, my upper arm has some sort of stinging sensation, but it doesn't even seem to go away when I wear a jacket. My neck is probably the worst. It may be from bending over my desk all the time, but if I try to lean my head all the way back, the muscles on the back of my neck hurt, but if I try to bend my head too far to any direction, it hurts, and I'm usually too tired to keep my head up, which is a more comfortable position. Hopefully I won't get sick, because then my muscles will probably cramp, and depending on which one wants to spazz on me this year, it'll just make my aches worse. I really wish I knew what's the deal about my muscle cramps. I visited a bunch of doctors about it, but apparently none of them can find anything wrong with me besides that I have influenza. Of course, the cramps go away soon after my cold passes, but I'd like to know what's wrong with me, you know? Apparently, I used to cry all the time as a baby because of some muscle cramp, too, and my parents had to tie me up in my blanket. I'm not too sure if that's true, because they brushed it off by saying, "Nah, it's just probably because you liked crying." I don't even know.

Foreshadowing

I sometimes feel like my body is telling me I'm going to die.

Inspired by my blog post. I just felt like singing it, so technically it's a song, and not a poem.

In Reality
I stuffed my hand into my pocket
And drew out a key.
It flashed twice in the light,
Then I hid it once again.
Did you
Really think
That this is the end?
IIIIIIIIIIIIII
I just wanted to let you know,
Everything you see right now,
Isn't everything
In reality.
IIIIIIIIIIIIII . . .
I faced the sea,
And I faced the wind,
As I fingered the key.
I balled my hand into a fist
And thrust it at the sea.
But IIIIIII,
I kept the key in my hand.
Why is letting go,
So hard . . .
IIIIIIIIIIII-I . . . I . . .
I just wanted to let you know
That everything you see right now
Isn't everything
In reality.
But I wish that this was all,
All that there was to my story,
But there's more.
And IIIIIII,
I just wanted to let you know,
That everything
That you see right now
Isn't everything,
In reality,
Noooo . . .

Click. Bang.

It's always so hard to not judge people, like judging a book by its cover. There's always those people you'd never expect to be hiding so many secret feelings inside. They talk with their friends, laughing and looking like they have a great time. But then I notice, when they glance away, it's like the expression changes completely. A perfectly happy smile turns into a distant stare with a turn of the head. There's so many of them. Heck, I do that sometimes. Why are we all so private, so quiet? In a way, it's like the world stops turning, just for a little while, and it keeps on going without anyone noticing. What is with the masquerade party everyone attends that is supposed to be life? Female, male, all alike. I've talked to be people who's lives have been hindered from backstabbing friends to drugs and weapons. And honestly, it's shocking to learn these things. All these people come to school with a grin on their face, but when no one's looking, they're fighting within themselves, against others. No one knows the nature of their home, near their home, or rather, outside of school. Ignorant of what violence occurs, or what peace there is. And there's always that hidden lock in our hearts, sealing away our secrets. We all want to throw away the key that walls between the world and our souls, but never able to bring ourselves to let go. We thrust our fists out to the sea, but our fingers still clasp tightly around the key. The key we so longingly want to give to someone else to hold, but we just can't. We all try to drive the tough seat, but it seems we'll all crack once the gun is up to our head. Too afraid of what people will think. Too afraid what people will say. Too afraid what people will do. Why are humans so frightening, yet so timid? Perhaps it's because we judge people too fast and its too late to realize we treat others the way we don't want to be treated.