I sense a departure from my usual style of prose. If I'm honest, my last three or so posts have been much more like me then the ones before. Why is that?
It's like when your mother picks up the phone and she speaks BBC English rather than the usual Midland accent she normally has. Or when we wear a suit to an interview. Why do I hide behind my words. Y cnt i jst type like dis? u wld still knw wht i ws tlkin bout... u get me? ima londoner lol, this is hw i'm meant to speak.
Urgh, no, that kills me. But no, that's taking it to the extreme. But seriously... I don't use words like 'lassitude' irl, or 'pulchritudinous', or 'juxtaposing' or any of the words I've used in this blog so far. I almost want this to be Virginia Woolfish; chain of thoughts. Or like Proust and his cake: "
And suddenly the memory revealed itself: The taste was that of the little piece of madeleine which on Sunday mornings at Combray (because on those mornings I did not go out before mass), when I went to say good morning to her in her bedroom, my aunt Léonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of tea or tisane". Nice and chain of thoughty.
But no, this has become rather autobiographical.
Argh, see that... 'rather'. Why can't I write from my heart? Why can't I write how I think? Why am I hiding, behind a veneer. Why can't I just use normal speak? I dunno why. I'm 19... I don't need to act pretentious, I'm a kid. A child. A young lady who knows fuck all.
Fuck all, absolutely nothing. My sister is 10, and I don't think I have much more wisdom than her. Common sense, obviously, but wisdom... no. Why is that? Maybe I just haven't grown up yet, and this overly pretentious writing is an attempt to assail this. I'm trying to appear more intelligent than I am. Or maybe right now I think I'm fucking Freud. Quit with the drug store psychology Holly.
Thinking of my sister... I plaited her hair today. I'm so jealous of her. I'm jealous of a 10 yr old... haha, no, seriously, her hair. I'm so jealous of her hair. It's long and thick and shiny. I have killed my hair. It is dead. It's so short I could cry. I used to cry. I did cry. Everyday for a week I cried myself to sleep about my hair, almost disgusted by my own vanity. I knew it was ridiculous to cry over hair, and anyway it's not like I had a crew cut. But... I just hated it. I have no obvious talents or intelligence, all I have to rely on is being pretty. Say what you like, but it's true. And without my hair, I felt like I lost all my prettiness. Any beauty I ever had... gone. I was so alone, I loved my hair, and without it I was just ugly. It was almost like being 16 again... the feeling ugly thing, not having hair like when I was 16. When I was 16 my hair was blonde and came down to my elbow. Was quite hot looking back on it. You never know what you have untill it's gone. God, I'd love that hair back, but at the time I hated it.
My hair is so thin now, and so... black. The colour suits, but I hate it. Every woman I see with nice hair, I'm jealous. Everytime I see someone walk by with long hair I'm envious, and I know it's stupid, considering it will grow, and it's not like I'm bald! I just can't help it. I'm so wrapped up in my own solipsism, I'm so solipsistic. I'm utterly boring. I would hate to be friends with someone like me. ><
Shut. Up. About. Your. Hair. Holly - No one cares.
I annoy people, by focusing on stupid crap. Like my hair, or the spot on my chin, or my chipped fingernails. I can't help it. OCD. It took me untill uni, to realise how little I know compared to other people. I feel like the village dunce. I can't even write a decent blog.
Whatever. I ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ you u u u. (
like snow, with
freezing cold
flows like Moscow). You better get that reference. ^_^
