(Source: electrifyed, via fresher-thanfresh)
I actually can’t read this without crying. You really don’t know how much that means to me! Even though I don’t know who you are anon, you’ve made me feel a little less alone at a time when it feels as if I’ve been abandoned by everyone around me.
Thank you.
My dad thinks I’m too stupid to do two 3/4s this year, and my mum thinks my ball dress looks dirty and I look fat in it. Then they turn around and yell at me saying I put too much pressure on myself and that I stress over nothing. Can you blame me for wanting to achieve good marks and starve myself?
Nothing beats spending time with the one you love.
The more I think about it the more ridiculous it all seems. The results which come from these two years will somewhat dictate the rest of our lives-the universities and courses we’ll attend, consequently reflecting the careers that we will pursue. It’s stupid because it doesn’t do justice in reflecting our personalities and our possible potential. By having genetic advantages such as photographic memory puts certain students at an advantage, allowing them to apply less effort though still receive outstanding results. This doesn’t mean they’re any smarter than those who obtain a median score. In fact many students who do receive a middle band ATAR work equally as hard or harder than those who gain a 99.95. The ones who pull off full marks simply show that they possess extensive knowledge into the subjects which they’ve chosen, possibly as a result of hours of private tuition and 100 odd practice exams. But what about the kids who come from disadvantaged backgrounds?
Think of the children from broken families, where their mothers or fathers are hardly home because they’re forced to work twelve-hour shifts to pay for overdue rent. Or maybe the new arrivals who’ve just come from a war-torn country and speak close to no English. I don’t mean to sound melodramatic or anything, however for quite a few people, this is their reality. They can’t afford private tuition, or prestigious private schools. This doesn’t mean they aren’t “smart” or hardworking; in fact they’re probably 10 times harder working, and smarter in a more practical sense, however it isn’t reflected in our state wide VCE testing. So tell me, how is this fair?
Lately my mind has been consumed with the fear and frenzy of upcoming exams; sleep being my only means of escape. I know it’s only a bandaid fix, though it seems to be my only retreat from the pressure and chaos I’ve confined myself in. However as each day dashes by, the sensation of slipping into that sweet slumber becomes a little less satisfying; and the guilt of dozing off on unfinished work is slowly becoming somewhat suffocating.
Going to a dress maker this afternoon to discuss the possibility of making my dream dress for the ball. I know it’s completely unnecessary, but we only live once right?
There’s something about hand written letters that I simply adore. It fascinates me; the way each character dances across the page is a story in itself. There is so much love and beauty that goes into a letter, an art that cannot be rushed. When truly writing a letter your forced to look deep into your heart. The scribbles that hit the paper have been pondered; they’re words of honesty, revealing a side in which we don’t usually express. It’s a puzzle piece-that sheet of paper, only accessible when placed in your hands, never lost in cyber space-a reminder of someone or something once said. I needn’t worry about my memory failing me, or the blur of details because the fact is that it’s a hard copy, something I can touch, something I can get out and hold, something which I can pull out and read whenever I please. They’ll always be there for me; though it’s sad because I can’t remember the last time I received one.
Why is it we hang onto someone who doesn’t love us back; allow ourselves to be eaten up inside with needing them, when they wouldn’t even spare a second thought on us.
haha yeah I did… It was kind of a drafted introduction for some philosophy work… But thank you :)
I wish I could sing.
Some may say that time is a basic property of the universe, while others may argue that time in fact is not part of the external world at all, and that it is simply a property of the human minds. The renowned Greek philosopher Aristotle speculated that time was our mind’s perception of motion, where time and motion are bound together similar to the way matter and energy are. Though on the other hand David Lewis suggests that time is how our minds perceive measures of change; this can be divided into two separate concepts, personal time (the uninterrupted time experienced by each individual) and external time (the time experienced by the surrounding world in which we live in). Another popular explanation of time, which derives from the prolific intellect of Albert Einstein, is that time is the fourth dimension-the ontological status in which externalists regard time to be. Regardless of all the controversy and theories put forth on what time really is, maybe time is simply an illusion…Maybe it doesn’t exist at all; after all Aristotle once said “the past no longer exists, the future does not exist yet and the present instantly becomes non-existent”. The future is seen to be a mere concept and that everything else is the past, because with every given moment in time it instantly collapses. So what is time? I guess it really depends on how you look at it.
As the sound of torrential rain pounds against my windowsill, I find that I’m filled with a sense of warmth and comfort despite the chilling bite of the first signs of winter. I guess it’s the familiarity of the rain which bring back the tender memories of childhood, when the most frightening thing in the world was the roar of lightning and thunder during those endless winter nights…and I remember as if it were yesterday…when my parents camped by my side, holding my hand and reassuring my that all would be okay. I didn’t realize it then, but looking back now, those stormy nights were the ones in which I felt the safest, because I’d have my parents there to protect me from what seemed like the scariest thing.
That feeling of anger, and sadness compressed into one. When your blood boils in rage, yet you can’t help the tears from welling up. It’s moments like these I need you most…That’s why I find it ironic that you’re the core cause of all this. I’ve given up so much for you; however time has proven you to be a man of many words but little action that leaves behind nothing but a trail of empty promises. Nonetheless I’m still here waiting; laying in half consciousness in hope that you’ll reply.
