EMO post: I loved you. Yesterday.

When you go would you have the guts to say

"I don't love you like I loved you yesterday"?

I've been feeling very good actually, the last weeks. Starting school, looking to the future, getting to know new people  (however superficial), it's all been good. I haven't even been thinking about my summer of break up drama all that much. But, as I've come to notice, not thinking about things won't make them any less of a big deal. It won't make them a smaller part of your life. When stuff happens, it happens. While you can try to deal with it the best possible way you can, there's no guarantee that the other people/person involved will be co-operative. While it's been a few weeks now, I still wanted to tell you about the last serious encounter I had with my ex. Because after it happened, I think I was so shocked and angry about everything I just kind of shut it out and stopped thinking about it altogether. It came charging at me yesterday and slapped me in the face. Hard.

I think it's been three weeks or something, since this happened. I got a call in the middle of the night from my ex, asking me to take down my blogposts where I talk about him. Because the girl he's been seeing (the girl he cheated on me with) might find out about me that way. Needless to say that this question is all sorts of crazy, right? Even more needless to say that I said "Well, boy, I think not." and hung up. I gave myself a pat on the back for not letting myself be manipulated by the motherfucker and went to sleep. After punching my bed and running around the house because of the sheer anger going through my veins. Obviously. 

The next day I wake up and go check out my blogspot, only to find out that he changed my password, deleted a blogpost and put my blog on private. The blogpost he deleted was "EMO post: F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E", the post where I tell you exactly what he did. And because he deleted it, I will remind you again of what it is he did, exactly: He cheated on me, while my dad was dying, flew to Israel to meet his internetlover and failed to mention even one of these things to me. In fact, I found out because I found a loveletter to her in my own fucking house. He didn't even plan on breaking up with me, he just thought that he would kind of have this half and half thing going on. Because I'm the nice, dependable girl who supported him through thick and thin. But not fun and new. He did all this while I was going through the most difficult time in my life and was seriously fucked up in my head. Again, needless to say I was going batshit crazy about the things he did and that he even had the guts to muck about with my personal things. I called him when I found out about the bloghacking thing and screamed at him. I don't think it was very articulate but more of a "GIVE ME MY PASSWORD MOTHERFUCKER" yellfest. He started crying about how he panicked, didn't have anywhere else to turn, just has the one person who loves him and that he didn't want to lose her. How he didn't want to make the same mistakes with her as he did with me. I'm sorry but he must have some serious braindamage going on. He cheats on me for months, never tells her about the fact that he still was in a "committed" (not so much from his side, obviously) relationship, that he had been for five years and then claims that he hasn't already made that mistake? Jebus. Jebus Rice. 

Right then and there, I lost it. I lost my sympathy for him. And I think the last active loving feelings I had for him, too. I laughed at him. And I said "I wish I was laughing because it's funny.". I told him that he needs to stop fucking over other people and that it's none of his business anymore what I do, think or write. That he has no right to demand things of me, not now, not ever. But most of all, that he should deal with the shit he did and take responsibility for it, like a grown fucking man.

Karma is real. Not in a supernatural kind of way, as far as I'm concerned, but in a simple, logical way. If you go around kicking people in the nuts, chances are there will be some nutkicking right back at you. If you treat me like shit, you will get kicked out of my life. You can cry about how tough it is and tell me how you love me and want me back (which he did too, by the way), you'll still be an asshole and I still won't like you any more. You can delete my blogposts, boy, but you can't delete what you did. 

All of this. It just makes me so sad. I'm pissed off, obviously, about everything he did. How he treated me, without any respect or love. Everytime something new pops up in my head, something he lied about, something that makes sense now, it hurts. Every fucking time. Yesterday, it suddenly hit me. While me and my family were dealing with the fact that my father would be dead within the hour, he was chatting with his girlfriend. While I was crying because I had no idea what to do with myself after my dads death, asking him to support me and maybe give me a hug, he would tell me to "suck it up" and go outside to call his girlfriend. When I told him I was so out of it I started thinking about cutting myself, he told me "Yeah, sorry, I'm busy right now, I can't not take this phonecall. Gimme 5-10 minutes.". I only just started realising all this shit. And it hurts. 

He had the guts to lie to me. To kick me when I was way, way down. And after that, he breaks into my fucking blogspot account to, somehow, erase what he did. Motherfucker, please. 

I haven't heard from him since, thank my lucky stars. He still hasn't changed his adress though. JEBUS what a douchebag. One of the things I learned this year: All the drama that happens in movies? Just drama that happens in real life. But with better lighting.

Genie in a bottle pants, Weird Al and start of school

Yes, those pants haven't been gone long, but now that the weather is still appropriate I'm wearing them like crazy. They're so comfy and awesome it's not even funny. Also, if I think of "Genie in a bottle" I can't help but think about the Weird Al Yankovic cover "Weenie in a bottle". The chorus cleverly goes "I stuck my weenie in a bottle and now I can't get it out". I'm not SUPER crazy about Weird Al but some of his stuff is pretty awesome, especially "White & Nerdy" since Weird Al wears a "Carl Sagan is my homeboy" shirt in it (which I need) and the Seth Green cameo (super adorkable redhead), but "Pretty fly for a rabbi" and "Amish paradise" are pretty fun too. Though they don't have the lyrics "Ain't got no grills but I still wear braces". Genius.

ANYHOO, these pants are fantabulous and the earrings are new, I bought them as a souvenir at the Efteling and they're gorgeous. And they jingle. I can't resist a jingling earring. I'm tired and a little slow from all the new school stuff but it's all good, I'm excited about interesting classes and learning new things! The beginning is always a little awkward and tiring with not knowing where to find your new classes and being late. SO AWKWARD when you come in late, everyone is sitting down and the teacher is explaining something while you just barge in like "OHAI I'M IN THIS CLASS TOO" and the teacher gives you this look that says "I'm totally trying to make you feel like a bad person" while I just want to say "DOOD it's not my fault my bus was late!". He didn't seem to mind all that much but I'd rather not do it again. He was also just explaining, when I barged in, that he didn't appreciate latecomers. My timing of being late seemed to be perfect. And there's a really strange girl in my class that, while we were debating politics, said that democracy should be overthrown in Belgium to become a dictatorship.

I'm not sitting next to her.

Hope that, if your schoolyear just started, you're having a great start and that if you're working, being unemployed or just jacking off all day long, that that's working for you too! :-D

Hello there, ASS

jacket: secondhand
top: vintage
pants: H&M
bracelets: my moms
belt: thrifted
earrings: giftshop "Fata Morgana" 
sandals: river island
nailpolish: china glaze

All the glory that I bear

It's been a couple of weeks now, but I got my hair cut short again! Though it was by no means long, it was too long for me. Short hair is who I am, yo. I know that a lot of people have the idea that caring about your haircut, or your appearance in general, is superficial. And you know what, it might just as well be. I couldn't care less whether people think that or not. But for the sake of writing, I'll try to convey why that shit ain't as vain as you might think it is.

With all the rules, deadlines and restrictions we have to deal with in life it only seems natural, especially if you're a creative individual, to try and be as restrictionless in the parts of life where you have complete control. Like with your appearance. And even that can be restricted by employers, schools and other party poopers. I understand. You can't be a tattooed freakazoid when you have to work with fragile old people who have heart attacks because their jell-o didn't turn up in time. You can't set a "bad" example for young children by turning up to teach a classroom in a band T and bright blue hair. Though I would've fucking loved that. I "understand". I don't agree, that's for sure. Being raised by crazy hippies, I think that everyone should just wear whatever the hell they want. I think that, only if we start to get used to people looking different from ourselves, we can stop judging people who look different from ourselves.

Before I turned eleven, I wanted to have long hair. Like a princess. The epitome of femininity. What all the boys like. After my puberty kicked in I slowly but surely moved towards my more individual taste, opinion and look. I got my nose pierced when I was twelve. I cut my hair short, together with my sister. I remember my youngest brother telling us that short hair wasn't pretty on girls. Especially not on someone with a round face, like mine. That was the first of many times I would think "Well, what if I don't actually WANT to be pretty? Maybe I just want to figure out who I am?". So I cut it. I loved it. It was my very first step into "I'm going to be whatever I want to be" territory. Because of reasons I will probably discuss in a future post, I had some years where there was no room for trying to really find myself or broadening my horizon. A couple of years older, I dyed my hair crazy colors and I'm still doing that. I never regretted a single haircut, dyejob or piercing (I could use a couple 'a more of the latter) because, like taking guitarlessons or picking up a book, it helps you to get to know who you are. Like getting that first tattoo I've been dreaming about. People tell you it'll be ugly. You'll regret it once you're older. But in the end of the day, you're just going to have to decide that for yourself. After having gone through some tough shit this past year, it's time to think about myself again. Finding out who I am. So I cut my hair. I'm thinking about that tattoo. I started reading more again. I finally started drawing after months of being completely inspirationless. Maybe getting some piano lessons. Buying other clothes. Doing things alone. You know what? I totally forgot about the fact that I'm actually kind of awesome. WITH AWESOME HAIR:

In the words of Gaga:

I've had enough, this is my prayer
That I'll die living just as free as my hair

OH and how do you like my new bloglook? I'm still kind of playing around but I really like it so far!