All alone, in my room, bored as hell.

So I've been singing along to Jeff Buckley for the past hour, staring at the iPod speakers whilst curled up in a ball on my bed, too tired to get a jumper and stop shivering.

Do you know how depressing that truly is?

Quite, I believe is the right answer.

Infact, I'm so bored that I'm posting a pointless entry about my pointless life onto this pointless journal which nobody reads because of the sheer pointlessness of it all.

I learnt a cool word in english today... what was it again?

Suserration, that was it.

I was pleased when I found out about it. I finally have the right word to describe the sensation when you can hear your own heartbeat or a pulse, the blood rushing through your body.

Suserration, I like that word.

Jeff is being cruel to me. 'Love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.'

How very true, thank you Mr. Buckley.

I downloaded (I know, such blasphemy) his post-humous album yesterday, Letters for my Sweetheart the Drunk.

I've already sussed out my favourite songs: Nightmares by the Sea, Opened Once, Haven't you Heard and Witches' Rave.

Those will probably change in the future, you all know how song preferences change.

I think I'm going to fetch a jumper now.

Have done so. Just in case you were wondering, it's purple.

Not that I'm going to go into a description of what I'm wearing, you perverts.

Hallelujah's finished now. Onto 'Lover, you should have come over.'

Another happy, uplifting song.

'Looking out the door
I see the rain fall
upon the funeral mourners...'

Almost as uplifting as me and Lauren's song, I Will Follow you into the Dark by Death Cab.

'Broken down and hungry for your love, but no way to feed it.'

*Glares at speakers*

It's not that I don't absolutely adore Buckley (trust me, I do) but sometimes the lyrics mean a bit too much to me.

Lyrics are different to normal words..

If they're the right lyrics, they pierce through your heart and are imprinted there permenantly.

Poetry or writing just couldn't do that for me.

Lyrics are always more blunt and direct, more painful and yet they heal so much better than spoken words ever could.

I love this song so much, I can hear the ever quickening suserration of my heart, blood coursing through my body.

(See? See? Such a useful word, suserration.)

It's raining outside.

What a change.

I'm staring at a wall.

Another shocking change.

I hope Katie finds her ring. She lost it this morning and I wish I was there to comfort her.

That was a special ring to her, I know as much.

It must be nice to have a possession that reminds you of the one person you love beyond all others.

Then again, it must be as painful as flesh burning to lose it.

There is no possession that I could ever own that would mean that much to me, because there simply isn't someone there to present it to me.

I guess I'm going to have to wait for that.

Lethargy has seemed to grasp its warm, fuzzy claws around me.

I seriously can't be bothered to do anything.

It took ages to summon up the willpower to get up, walk three steps and put on one measly jumper.

I thought to myself 'Why don't I spend my week-end re-reading all the Harry Potters?'

Then another thought slugged through my brain 'I can't be asked.' and that was it, case closed.

The more active part of me, the optimistic and determined part, seems to be on a long holiday.

There's like a mental block for whenever I think of something I have to do, or something beneficial to me. i just can't be bothered, I never can.

It bugs the hell out of me.

Why was I thinking about spending the ENTIRE WEEKEND reading Harry Potter, you ask?

I can't go out this weekend, because I'm as ill as a my chemical romance fangirl who has stolen Gerard Way's used tissues for a year and rolled in them on a daily basis.

That is just how ill I am.

Not that I'm that mentally ill.


My mother is even wanting to hand in my woolworths form tomorrow in town instead of me, but that's where I most definitely draw the line.

Hopefully if I persuade her that I'm better and refrain from trying to cough my lungs out like I've been doing most of today, I might get an hour or two in town.

Illness sucks.

I'm pretty sure I have a throat infection, joy of joys.

Another thing that's pissing me off: Why is there nobody on MSN?

I may not have a social life at the moment, but that doesn't mean everyone else has to spontaneously go out on a friday night and leave me to listen to music and write crappy journal entries on my angsty lonesome.

It's blasphemy.

Although, there's one person I want to talk to in particular, and the fact that they're not online hurts more than anyone else.

I'm craving social interaction.

Yet there's none except if I want to talk to my mother about something or spill out all my woes to a passing dog (I have two, so there's always a choice)

Ugh, It's only half past seven.

I can't even be bothered to write anything except for this entry, that is how lethargic I am.

Sorry to disspoint, WDILGA fans.

I just can't be bothered right now.

My friends, I hope you read this journal entry and think of me for five seconds before going out again and leaving me.

I know it's selfish, but doesn't a lonely Jeff-obsessed invalid deserve at least a bit of attention?

Townies, you should be back by now.

The sunkens can't be THAT interesting, surely. (I lie, I lie)

I'm trying to remember what I used to do on the weekend back before I had friends who didn't lock themselves in their comfortable, closed-off life houses every weekend to leave me alone and bored.

I can't remember.

Normally I go to town every saturday, and do something else on Friday.

Sunday is my day for lazing.

My agenda this weekend: FUCK ALL.

Yeah, that's right.


I can't even be bothered to do something to entertain myself, I'm at that level of tedium.

I want pancakes.

But that would require the effort of asking my mother to make pancakes and then be dissapointed when she answers with a usual 'No, I'm watching such-a-such TV show'

Ugh Ugh Ugh.

My social life has seriously gone down the drain, and I haven't even got the saturday job yet.

'Don't fool yourself... she was heartache from the day that you met her.'

Tried to teach myself the guitar riff to 'I hate everything about you' by 3 days grace and failed epicly.


I want to name my guitars, but I'm not sure what.

Hmmm... I think I may name my acoustic Jeff.

After who you ask? Well, isn't is obvious :P

I'm going to name my electric... (no, not Buckley. Shut up, brain.)


Roderick! Yes, that'll do.

I like that name.

Don't look at me like that.

At least I didn't call it Gerard.

I mean, Jeff is a cool name let along the name of one of the best musicians in history, but Gerard?

Ew, I've never liked that name.

Nor the person that much, to be honest.

And please don't fill my comment box with hate comments now, I don't need them nor care about your opinion if you are a person inclined to do things like that.

I have a Pucca cushion.

I'm poking Pucca in the eye because I'm bored.

Any questions?



p.s. Why is there always an advert for gay chubby dating? I am not gay, and the last time I checked I wasn't chubby. Go away stupid advert!!!
October 3rd, 2008 at 08:48pm