I’m hung over on fun. and Panic! At the Disco. And this lyric so perfectly resembles my feelings at night.
The first part – “die tonight”? That won’t happen until I’m at least eighty, I hope.
The second bit is where it gets more complicated.
I’ve done a ton of things I regret, things that most probably seem insane and/or mean in retrospect. I’m probably too young to be expressing those sentiments. Maybe when I grow up I’ll look back on this blog and laugh about how teenage melodrama is idiotic but right now? I feel horrible.
It is strange how opening up to strangers is fifty times easier than talking to friends/parents/relatives (unless of course you talk to them over the Internet – but even then, not always).
Since I’m typing at the speed of light – ish right now this might be something really important to write about. Maybe.
Refer to this for a more in-depth explanation of the Maybe. I’m not good with depth.
See, most stupid things I’ve done have been in the past four years. And that’s probably not uncommon but the choking guilt I feel most nights when I can’t sleep (I’m definitely not the only one in that case) is not.
Uncommon, that is.
Like when I was nine-ish I was at this camp for my co-curricular activity, Choir (yes I sing and singing is so damn fun) and it was maybe eight pm? Overnight camp.
We had been given a ten minute break so I headed to the washroom one level up from the multi-purpose room where we were practicing. I was a right little ball of happiness and sunshine back then (read: i despised everyone except my few friends because i was a bitchy nine year old). While walking back to the MPR, I heard these three girls inside giggling and stuff.
To give you a better sense of the place, I had exited the stairwell and the washroom was right beside the entrance. Then came a corridor and a bend, then a corridor with the staff room, then another bend and the MPR. Capiche?
So. They were all in the same cubicle (…AND NOW i realise how wrong that sounds. god.) so I ran in, clicked the lights off, made this spookish sound, flicked the light on, and ran ahead to the first bend in the corridor. Sadistic me was happy when I heard them screaming in terror. Then a boy one year older than me exited the stairwell just as the girls ran out of the bathroom. I hid behind a pillar and watched them accuse him of terrifying them. The poor kid was nervous and had no idea what they were talking about.
I dashed ahead to the MPR and entered half a minute before the four of them.
The girls, of course, reported him to the teacher in charge. It helped that he was a troublemaker.
I never suffered any negative consequences.
If you’re out there, boy with brown/blond hair, I’m very, very sorry. I was a bitch and I should have owned up but I guess if it’s any help you know who did it?
Oh well.
There are so many more things I could type about and if you know me, I’ve most probably done something terrible.
I feel horrible this year so.
I’m sorry. And sorry is an ugly word. (but i guess what I’m apologising for is similarly displeasing to the eye)
when in doubt (live) 