My Krazy Kandies

Supaaaah Lame

I fail my math regents… again.
61. That’s exactly 4 points away from a 65, which is the passing grade. I got exactly 9 more points than the first time I took it. Woo-fuckin’-hoo.
Yes, this is about the time when everyone and their fucking mother tells me “I told you that you should’ve studied.” Ya’ know what? Suck it. I know that it was pretty stupid for me to pass up a better grade on a silver platter, but it’s a bit on the late side to fix that. Besides, Mom already got the honors.
I don’t know why I didn’t see this coming. It’s not like my life is kind enough to me to let me get away with simple pleasures like passing a stupid fucking Math Regents. I may as well give it a rest and get a high school diploma. Oh wait, I can’t do that, because I have (other people’s) EXPECTATIONS to live up to. I can’t possibly let them down. That’d be like killing them with a wooden stake. Then again, killing them with a wooden stake might be a good way to make people let me fail at life peacefully.
So there’s my story. Wonderful way to end the Summer, don’t you think? Sarcasm, sarcasm, sarcasm.

I should seriously consider getting rid of all my categories and just putting all my posts under “Stuff.” It’d make my blog and my life a little less messy. :/

Dear Anyone Who Can’t Handre It

If I were so inclined, I would be apologizing for being stupid, and for not being able to stop myself, and all of that other crap that you seem to think about me. But, since I’m not so inclined, I won’t apologize. There are a lot of things about Kimmie, and if you can’t handle any one of them, then maybe you and I shouldn’t be in any kind of relationship.

It seems that, as I’m getting older, more people are expecting things of me. It’s stressful when someone asks you “what wrong?” and you absolutely cannot answer them, because you absolutely don’t know. Very stressful indeed, but it seems that everyone and their mother expects me to know what’s wrong even when it’s obvious that I don’t. I mean, think about it; if I knew what was wrong, wouldn’t I tell you? Well, maybe I wouldn’t tell you, but I would at least try to do something about it on my own, right? After all, I am 15 years old and have a mind of my own at this point. I know it wasn’t quite so obvious a couple of years ago, but me and my mind have been getting to know each other slowly. And when I say slowly, I really mean slowly.

Getting to know the mind of a mood disorder is hard. I’ve been hanging around her for all of my 15 years, and I still know very little. She’s secretive, and quiet, and doesn’t like to talk, so getting her to open up is proving to be the hardest thing I’ll ever do in all my life.

Now, you might be wondering what the point of this rambling is, but I’m not going to tell you yet. Patience is a virtue, and while I seem to be the only person who can apply patience to myself at a given moment in time, I will have to ask that you try to apply this same kind of self-control. At least try to refrain from hitting the little red ‘x’ on the tab.

I have a mood disorder. I’m pretty sure it’s Cyclothymia, but I don’t have an official diagnosis, so I’m labeled by the mental health professionals as an “Undiagnosed Mood Disorder.” It actually wouldn’t surprise me all that much if I had a Histrionic personality disorder, too. I mean, Tempestuous sounds like me, doesn’t it? Total nymphomaniac, yea, I fit the title.

But that’s off topic, isn’t it? I have a mood disorder, undiagnosed, unknown, untreated really, and apparently “uncontrollable.” But we all know that the fact that I “can’t control myself” is a load of crap, right? Especially that whole “you’re addicted to hurting yourself”. That’s utter bullshit, and I think everyone reading this knows that very well.

I don’t really care what you think the reason behind my self-injurious behavior is, but it’s definitely not an addiction. I have thought about it off and on for all the months since January, and every time I decided “Nah, I don’t wanna.”

Anyway, I guess this post is long enough by now, right? I’ll get straight to the point from here on out.

If you can’t handle my self-injurious behavior, my depression, my ADHD, my mood disorder, my emotional instability, and the fact that all of these come together to make KIMMIE 1.5, then go away and don’t talk to me anymore.

And if this post pissed you off, then maybe we really shouldn’t hang out/talk/be a part of each other any more. I’m getting to be sick and tired of having to be in a good mood to have friends. It’s rather miserable when your friends will only be your friends when you’re happy with the world. It’s tiring after a while, especially when they get pissed off at me for having issues with things like self-esteem and whatever the fuck else is wrong with me. Yes, I’m talking about you, Princess.

There’s only one more thing for me to say: don’t stick up for yourself in the comments, because I know better than to listen to the one who says they didn’t do it.

The Worst Person In The Whole World

It has to be me.

So, I send David an email a little while ago, telling him that I was cutting off all ties because I didn’t want to hurt him anymore than I knew I already had.

I deserve to die. And don’t even TRY to tell me otherwise, because we all know its true at this point. No, actually, you lot of idiots should’ve realized that I deserved to die when I was about six or seven.

I think I’m going to skip school for about a week.

Youngsters

Is it just me or is Dad getting slightly more immature as the days go by? He fights with Ricky and me. It’s absurd. I usually ignore him, but seriously. It’s pissing me off. I want to smack him; I don’t know why I haven’t yet. If he ever got close enough for me to hit him while snapping at me, I think I would hit him.

Long story short; Dad was snarling at Ricky, being spiteful to a twelve year old, and I told them both to stop acting like children. Ricky tells me to shut up, I shush him, and Dad yells at me to ’stay out of it’. I tell him to act his age. He says “Well, why don’t you shut up?” and I repeat that he should act his age.

I know I’m in the wrong, but still. “Why don’t you shut up?” What the fuck kind of come back is that? I used that when I was eight and fighting with Natalie.

I haven’t updated in a while, but then again, there hasn’t really been anything to tell you, other than that I got a 95% in Global Studies and a 81% in Biology. Don’t know the rest of my grades yet.

Other than that, I’m kinda still subtly falling to pieces. I barely notice it myself, but I am going there. This is utter bullshit. I hate myself. Well, at least I’ve got good music to listen to.

Shut the FUCK UP ALREADY!!!

I am sick and tired of listening to you whine abut how much you love me and how badly you don’t want to lose me. I don’t know if you are talking from the bottom of your heart, or if you’re just being annoying, but I am absolutely FED UP with listening to your whining!
I’ve told you a dozen times that I broke up with you because I wasn’t in love with you, so why don’t you just give it a rest?! You are not dying! You are seventeen years old, and you have a whole entire LIFE ahead of you, so stop being so hung over about one freakin’ girl!
I knew that breaking up would be difficult, but you aren’t making it any easier. I’m about ready to either slit my own throat or beat the shit out of you!
You said that you don’t want to lose me, but if that’s true then you are going about this the entirely WRONG WAY. You are going to end up making me HATE you if you don’t stop with crying. You are supposed to be a man, not a freakin’ crybaby! I’m just a girl! There are billions of other’s in the world, so sit tight and WAIT for the right one to show up!
I don’t love you anymore! I only did for a couple of weeks, maybe months, okay!? It wasn’t “meant to be” and it wasn’t “true love!” It was just a crush! You are only 17, you shouldn’t even be trying to make those kinds of long-term relationships at your age! You didn’t really think that we would last forever, did you?
You are starting to piss me off, David, and I am not even kidding when I say that I am more than willing to shut you out. I don’t want to have to do that, but if you don’t stop, then I will have to. I’m already feeling like the biggest jerk ever: you don’t need to help!

…

I’m a little bit frustrated with him. Just a little.