I'm not necessarily angry today, and I want to keep it that way. So maybe todays entry will be different still.

2-9-03

It is cold today. Heavy coat, hat, gloves, scarf, all necessary. Not much pain today. More like thinking. Thinking about everything. Life, future, past, will, emotion, desire, hatred, remorse, and schoolwork? Yup. Plenty of schoolwork racking my brain. I missed a bunch of school. Now I have to make up the work. Still, I haven't had math again, so I can still consider myself light on the load.

ugh, I really don't feel like typing now. Maybe I'll do more of this tonight, or tomorrow.

I have not posted in a little more than a month. Nor have I started out with my traditional opening. I guess you could call today the special edition. well anyway, it will proceed a little longer (but isn't it already long?), and I'll start now, I guess...


1-10-03

It wasn't necessarily a cold day today. Not hot either. Just enough to wear a jacket. It did however snow, which was beyond me. I feel pain today. Emotional pain. I can no longer think strait and I type this to free my thoughts. The other day my disrespectful friend and I got into a fight. Not a fist fight, a fight were we don't speak to eachother. I got fed up with his rude nature and asked of him to improve. He said I was just as rude as I am. That caused me pain. I don't like it when someone degrades me like that. I told him the truth, he tried to retaliate. We didn't speak to eachother for a few days, then, he accidently locked himself out of his house and came over to mine. He asked me why I was angry at him, This is what I told him

I give you food when you come here, youre over here a whole lot, I respect you, I listen to you, I help you out, I do a lot for you J**, and you never do anything back for me.

He still doesn't understand.

He claims he did, but the truth is he didn't

I can see it. The ways he continues. Were supposedly friends again, but today I watched him and cried.

When walking home from school I saw him playing with his new friend (see entries below) he was laughing, joking, enjoying himself with this new friend he just met this year. He had left me to go play with him. He left me in the cold, with a heavy backpack and tenor saxaphone to lug. When I tried to catch up, I saw him in the distance playing volleyball with an empty milk carton with his new friend. I cried. I'm still crying. He doesn't understand. He never will.

There are very few people in the world who understand this pain. When you let someone become your best friend, when you do so much for them, then they blow you off. They blow you off for something new without saying thank you. Or goodbye.

he never thanked me for anything I did for him. He never apologized to me when he hurt me. He never comforted me when I was depressed, he never invited me over to his house, he never invited me to go to the mall. He never did anything for me. He never did anything except give me deep emotional pain.

Hate is too strong of a word to use. My friend tells me it's just him, and to get used to it, but I don't think I will. I've put up with it for about three years, there is only so much one kid can take. It's not a querk. It can be helped. It can be stopped.

He only cares about things that benefit him. If it doesn't help him in anyway, he can just magically forget. If I invite him for a walk, or go to the park, he only comes because he knows we'll end up at my house where he can eat my food, play on my computer, and play on my pinball machine. I've started to ponder wether he values me as a friend, or an object he can toy with.

I've found no straight path for this problem, nor will I ever. I'm just depressed right now. Nothing is really gonna help me.

How do you remain anomynous if you are seen everyday?

I am the tormented twelve year old trapped in a perplexing life of annoyance, hipocracy, difficulty, and unfairness. I do too well in school, people think my life is all fun and games. They think wrong. My days grow harder, my life gets more painful, my anger grows stronger. I have friends to depend on, and I feel that is it. My teachers don't like me, nor will I ever understand what goes on at my home life. They think I have it all, there is so much pressure, write an essay, do your homework, do this math, write this research paper. My life is looked at by my peers and parents as if it were some sort of a joke. A free ride. It's not.

1-3-02

I freezing tuesday morning. I have a bagel for breakfast. I go to school. I converse with my friends. I learn. I cup-stack in gym.

The emotion today is not hatred, not confusion, it's embarassment. I hate the decisions I've made in the past. I have done wrong. Everyone has. I weep at my ignorance. The worst part is when people remember. And bring up the past. Your heart pounds. With desire. Desire to run away. The wish to die and be reborn. Into the new body. The new body your mind and soul can screw up all over again.

So why is it that people bring up these moments in your life you wish you'd forget? For entertainment. Killing inspiration for the fun of it. for thrill. To see you writhe in pain. The dancer gets shot with a bullet. A course of life downfalls. You immediately hate the person. Wether it be a stranger, your friend, or even your mother. For an instance you hate them. You need to have something against them. You calm down and realize that they are just doing this to torture you. Wether it was a joke or not, it pierces your heart. Your sould weeps. You need someone new to present no mistakes to. To not show them your ridiculous past.

The sentence I used up above is an important one. pay extremely close attention to it. Killing inspiration for the fun of it. for thrill. This is by far the most foul and sick thing practiced by the human race. Darwin said survival of the fittest. You may need to kill to survive, but you need not to kill a deer on a full stomach. Why? because it's cruel. It ends the deers life. What are you to do with the deer? You can't apologize to it. It's dead. Same goes with humans. The spirit is dead. Apologies can only be mendful if they come from the heart. Automatic apologies, just saying, I'm sorry really quick, does nothing whatsoever. The person with no shame walks away with a free concience. Why can't they realize the error of their ways? Why don't the understand that a broken heart can only be mended with another. Another weeping spell comes over you. You know that the fool who has disregarded you so much, could not care less about any other individual other than himself.

My relationship with my brother has been very good. I've discovered though that around his friends, I am not good. I am non existant. The only instance where I exist, is when he insults me. And tells them about my personal life. Another disregard of anothers feelings. so I sit here. Realizing whats true. What actually happens around me. And how my good heart and kind will has made me anything but perfect. Or the ideal human. Making Darwins theories obsolete.

The mystery of life continues. The music. The dancing. The masks...

I am the tormented twelve year old trapped in a perplexing life of annoyance, hipocracy, difficulty, and unfairness. I do too well in school, people think my life is all fun and games. They think wrong. My days grow harder, my life gets more painful, my anger grows stronger. I have friends to depend on, and I feel that is it. My teachers don't like me, nor will I ever understand what goes on at my home life. They think I have it all, there is so much pressure, write an essay, do your homework, do this math, write this research paper. My life is looked at by my peers and parents as if it were some sort of a joke. A free ride. It's not.

11-19-02

A cold tuesday morning. I have a nutra grain bar for breakfast. I go to school. I converse with my friends. I learn. I play hockey in gym.

My heart is filled with pure hatred. I am overcome with hate and dispair. Nothing is going right. Nothing at all. I look at the scale in my life. I have two main friends. I have a good one. And a bad one. I plan their futures. I see one is successful, while the other cannot keep his mouth shut from critisizm. I silently weep to myself. My emotion is hatred. I have no choice but to think of the negative. It is how I think when I am in that mood.

The way I see it. Each person is a misshappen key. They don't fit in. Yet they don't stand out in any way. The personality is a biome of some sort. It depends on the kind of person. There is music that plays forever. The music matches emotion. The music that plays in my heart is the mysterious piece with the latin lyrics. The beautiful singing. The xylophone standing out. Everything is blended together. There are dancers that lurk in this strange place. Each with a different mask. they dance. The never stop dancing. They smile, they frown, they laugh, they cry. You cry. you cry because the piece cannot be solved. It's not everyone that can't fit together. It's yourself. There is no order in which they dance. There is no pattern. They flow. They swing. They dance until you can figure it out. Than they stop. And the light goes out. When you have it all figured out, you die. The question will never be answered. The masks will never come off. The individuals inside will never be revealed.

hipocracy. Something that happens everywhere. People thinks its the whiny 6 year olds who don't know any better. They're wrong. They're the real hipocrites. They say theyre fair and equal. They say those things. But they turn around and do the exact opposite of what they said was wrong. Take my parents for example. They say they don't like thier first born child any better. I see that differently. Why is it that he gets a larger allowance, stays up later, is allowed to read later, and his mistakes aren't pointed out to everyone. I, on the contrary, am watched like a released criminal. Despite the fact I participate in more extracirricular activities, get better grades, nicer, am more polite, don't make friends with freaks who probably do drugs, and anything like that. Why is this so unfair?

The popular phrase is lifes not fair, get used to it. Of course lifes not fair. It never was and it never will be. But why is it that people have to be hipocrites? It's something that can be prevented. In most cases, it makes the victim feel miserable! I feel hated and neglected in my family. Whenever I do something right, nobody cares? But when some that I do is wrong, or incorrect? I'm punished. They say they notice when I do things right. But do they really? Do they even care? Or is it a lie they made up just to think that they still care that I do things right. I know it's the last choice. I only have my one good and true friend to rely on. That is it. I have no brother to come to with problems. I have no parents to talk to when I'm sad. I'm stuck with a brother who is treated better than me, and hipocritical parents who don't understand their son. Nor do they make an effort to understand him. I feel as if I have no one. No one that listens to me. No one to help me through my problems. No one to make me feel comfortable. Of course I have parents that buy me stuff. Are they putting food on my plate, buying me a bed, and doing other things because they want to? Or because they have to?

I had way to many mistakes in this one and I could be bothered to correct them. Plus, nothing exciting happened.

Today I post my second blog entree. Though the day is hardly over, I feel nothing else exciting will happen. If this isn't the case, than I can always make another post.

I am the tormented twelve year old trapped in a perplexing life of annoyance, hipocracy, difficulty, and unfairness. I do too well in school, people think my life is all fun and games. They think wrong. My days grow harder, my life gets more painful, my anger grows stronger. I have friends to depend on, and I feel that is it. My teachers don't like me, nor will I ever understand what goes on at my home life. They think I have it all, there is so much pressure, write an essay, do your homework, do this math, write this research paper. My life is looked at by my peers and parents as if it were some sort of a joke. A free ride. It's not.

11-17-02

A wet sunday morning. I wake up late than usual. Have a good breakfast, and go about with my daily life. I can't say today was hard, or sad, more confusing. Like the super triangles. You spend forever counting how many triangles there are exactly. You seem overly confident you know what your doing. You will get this right, and no one else will. You finish the problem and come up with an answer. You still have time before you submit your answer. Rather than check it, you goof off. You want a break, you've worked hard counting those triangles, and just want to lie back. When the buzzer sounds, you turn in you answer that your sure is correct. The procter checks it. You are one off. You spent all that time counting those triangles. You feel confused. You had just forgotten one triangle, that threw the rest of your counting off. You let out a big sigh. The procter than explains the problem to those who got it incorrect. The procter shows you a way to do the same problem in a much quicker and easier fashion, and the answer is always garaunteed. The feeling that comes over you is not sorrow, anger, or depression, it's confusion. The emotion that will never fail to annoy you. That is what I feel today.

It is around 9:40, I talk to my friend on instant messenger. My very good friend. A best friend. One known for a good portion of my life. It's my friends birthday, and he doesn't invite me to his party. Rather than me, he invites his new friend. One that he doesn't know as well as me. The feeling could be jealousy, or it could be anger. he has always been over at my house. Eating food from my pantry, sleeping over in my room. I do not get repaid, I get blown off. Anger would have been the emotion to fill in the blank, but I decided against it. There is no sense to be angry.

I bought him a present earlier, Despite the fact he rarely buys presents, or did anything for me on my birthday, or Christmas. It's my kind heart again. I sacrifice and spend money on him. My thanks is his mooching and rudeness. Though I do not have to get him the present, I feel obliged to do it. Sacrificing what could be my own happiness for someone elses, especially when I get no thanks, is such a bad feeling. At school they say helping people gives you a great feeling. That was never true for me. Sure, it gives the other person happiness, but for me, sadness reigns. There is sometimes an exception where you feel just great knowing that youve made a persons day. And they are greatful. But on so few occasions does that ever, or will that ever happen. In school they tell us to work together and be good people. On so few occasions does this work either. At my point in time, anyone is willing to backstab you for their welfare. For their benefit. At my point in life, Darwin was right. The goal is to be strong and intelligent. Survival of the fittest. Not survival of the sissies. In lacking one of those qualities, you are not the individual the group looks for.

I bring my friends back to my house. The same friends. They are rude. More rude than usual. I don't comment. I don't try to control. If I am brutally honest like him, maybe I will hurt his feelings and lose a friend. Being brutally honest is a quality you either love or hate. It can be really useful, or it can be really hurtful. One who can be assertive, but not too aggresive, is the ideal individual in my life.

My day follows very slow after. Nothing to compare, nothing worth mentioning. I play video games, surf the internet, watch t.v., read, and most anything else a kid would do. This is the most normal part of my life. At school I work like no one else, socially, I'm a nice weakling. When the teachers see someone exihbiting good character, they give them a pass to get an award and attend a special breakfast. Though I exihbit good character traits everday, I am never noticed. I could be a rug, or a doormat. No one notices what I do nice and right. Just what I do wrong. I am not rewarded for doing well, or doing extra, I am punished for making the slightest mess up. The life of an overacheiver is not easy. It is full of expectations and standards. Why are standards for me different? It is part of my sick luck. Why is it that when I write an essay, my teacher docs me points for it not being interesting. Than, when I compare it to a worse essay, a boring, repetative one, they get a better grade. how are people supposed to menatally advance if different standards are applied to different people? Wouldn't that keep them in the same spot forever and ever? Or will a day come when something is expected, and they are not prepared.

Welcome to my blog. Though I am not entirely sure what a blog is, I still think it looks fun. Well anyway, here it goes.



I am the tormented twelve year old trapped in a perplexing life of annoyance, hipocracy, difficulty, and unfairness. I do too well in school, people think my life is all fun and games. They think wrong. My days grow harder, my life gets more painful, my anger grows stronger. I have friends to depend on, and I feel that is it. My teachers don't like me, nor will I ever understand what goes on at my home life. They think I have it all, there is so much pressure, write an essay, do your homework, do this math, write this research paper. My life is looked at by my peers and parents as if it were some sort of a joke. A free ride. It's not.

11-16-02

A rainy saturday morning. I head off to class. there I sit helping students who never bothered to study the material, and I pass them. I don't understand why I do this. Maybe it's because I feel obliged to be nice. I let students go back adn correct answers in order to pass. I'm sure someone who doesn't care about the happiness of other individuals couldn't care less. As I make other people happy, I get less. I know that I am too soft at heart, and it's going to hurt me someday. When I am faced with a desicion.

It is around noon. I come home from a lunch of chinese food. I find out that a recital I had to play is cancelled due to the rain. I feel somewhat releived, but at the same time disappointed. Playing the saxaphone is what I do well. It's my chance to show off where people apprciate the soft, flowing improvisation jazz. Rather than intelligence in science class where people think you are trying to be better than them.The concert b flat blues scale feels like an oppoutunity. An oppourtunity to put emotion into physical activity. The notes come out as if they were meant to be. Combination glides out of the saxaphone as if it were meant to be. The final product amazes me and others. But then it's over. No more backbeat to play against, no more improv, your left to put away the saxaphone in a case and be forced to practice every day. Playing not the Jazz I love, not with the backbeat, and rythym, and fellow musicians cheering you on, but a piece of classical music that some german guy wrote with a key signature of four sharps. Triplets and sixteenth notes. Accidentals and slurs. Barely any time to take a breath in the fast paced solo music. No drums, no keyboard, no string bass, just you, your saxaphone, and your thoughts.

My brother has a friend over. As usual, he ignores me, and when I try to be included witht them, and prepare snacks, and comfort them, they walk away. Never grateful, never polite, yet he still seems to be the parents favorite. Could it be that he is the first born? Or is it part of my sick luck. I spend the rest of the afternoon wathing t.v., playing video games, and reflecting on what this day was. I sit here tired, typing this, the world through my eyes, through my views and opinions, in with no one else could ever see.