Depression is melancholy minus its charms - the animation, the fits.

I need to be around other people. I've started to develop dangerous thoughts--suicidal thoughts. I've been entertaining the notion that other people aren't real and conscious; the connections I've made with people are slowly being dissolved. It's awfully lonely being the only conscious person. It's really a chore to keep living and experiencing the ups and downs of life. There's just no point.

I don't want to age. I never want to grow old and look back at young people and knowing you'll never have that ever again. I'm gradually losing my youth right now.

I want to die quick and fast. A swift move and no pain at all. A coward's death.

It's alright. I'm not at that point where the contemplation of suicide morphs to planning yet. This is low, but I've been lower. I don't think I can get as low as I did the summer before junior year. That was crazy. I never want to go back to those days. I'm going to UCI orientation tomorrow; being around people will take my mind off of thinking. I'll be okay.

I hope I live past this hormonal stage. I think--I'm hoping, praying, wishing--that all my feelings right now stem from the flood of hormones the human body is subjected to at this age. If this is the case, then it means that I have an escape.

Man is harder than rock and more fragile than an egg.

It never occurred to me that other people go through identity crisis too. I always thought that only emo people and me had that kind of problems.

Like, M. Dow...I never would have thought that he is the person he is  from the first glance.He's the completely opposite of what I was expecting. But we opened up and he told me all those things about him and his problems.

And then I read M. Ward's accumulation of problems today. It's quite terrible, but it's a bit like mine, only so much more intense. Poor thing. I'd love to help, but I don't know how.

Funny thing was...right before I started reading it, Mlle. Pearson, this girl in our AP Art class found it funny--ridiculous, in  fact--that I asked the people around about those moral dilemma questions. You know, there are people like her who just kind of cruise through life all happy. And then there are people like M. Dow,  M. Ward, and I. Why can't we live like that? 

I'm not saying I'm incredibly intelligent and philosophical, but sometimes it seems like having the ability of think is almost like being cursed, being born a human is an unfortunate event. We're "blessed" with consciousness to feel all the things we don't want to feel like frustration, anxiety, emptiness, hopelessness, loneliness, etc. But then again, we also enjoy the good things in life, but I can't really think of any right now.

I remember several years ago, a monk was lecturing on how fortunate we were for being born human, and I remember thinking, "I'd rather be that ugly-ass plecs fish. Sure, it's eating waste from the other fishes, but it doesn't know any better. If it tastes good to it, then it shouldn't matter. It's happy where it is with how it is. Not like us."

Now, I kind of don't think that way anymore.. Sure, it'd be nice to not know any better, but knowledge is power. It's been given to me, and if I don't use it, it'd be a waste. I only have this life once. Might as well make the most out of it.

I gave a ride to a random stranger today. Non sequitur.

I know I've been bitching about how I want this year to be over, but now that it's getting close, I want it to last just a bit more. I hate getting into habits and schedules because I feel so nostalgic looking back and remembering. Like, for the past few days and weeks, I've been coming home from school and talking to Mlle. Jang and M. Dow on Skype for hours, listening to classical music, and updating this blog. All this will end in about two weeks. I'll be working all summer. I don't know how college will go.

It just seems like, yeah, I welcome change and all that, but I was in Mme. Kennedy's room today and thought, "In a few days, I probably will never see this classroom again. I will never walk in these hallways again." All the things that I've grown accustomed to...they'll all be gone soon. There's this sinking feeling in my stomach. I don't want to let it go, but I know I have to, I want to let it go because I'll be on to bigger and better things. 

But it's a bit sad and hard to let go. Well, really sad, actually...to let something go after you've been used to it for so long...says that girl who's willing to throw everything and everyone a few months ago.

Anyways, I thought about my plan to study abroad in London and how I was just going to drop the bomb at the airport. That's not very different from running away. It's a childish thing to do. The adult thing to do would be to inform my mother and stand my ground, and I will do just that. I won't let her be in control of my life anymore. I don't want to go through life feeling like a doll and empty and commit suicide by age 30.

I've discovered that if you say, "I'm thirty years old" in a British accent, it's the saddest thing ever. Oh, God. Thirty. I never want to turn thirty.

Anyways, I've also discovered that being pretty has it advantages. Many, actually. And I'm not even like, the prettiest girl out there. Not even close. Cars stop for me more often. People let me cut in line (not because I ask). People just help me out when I need help when I don't ask for it. Like, it's great. For example, today, it was very windy, and, being a student in Mme. Berman's class, I have a folder full of crap mixed in with stuff I actually need, I was carrying my English folder in such a way that everything fell out and flew all over. I just stood there in shock at what I've just done, but almost all the people around me stopped what they were doing to grab my papers. There were so many, just flying in the wind. I'd walk for a few steps and someone would come up and hand me paper. It was nice. Unlike how things were years before, when the same thing happened and no one stopped to help. Like, literally nobody. 

It's good for me, but it's very unfair. I read this book a while ago and the main character was an ugly duckling in middle school, but she cleared up her acne and got hot for high school. One of the things she said was that pretty girls got head starts. Head starts, indeed.

Haha. This is a bad picture.

Speaking of Skype, I was talking to Mlle. Jang and watching a video at the same time. And I fell asleep. Oopsie. For two hours!

Mlle. Jang seems so lucky. She has parents who support what she does. She's allowed room and freedom and is provided with a protective environment to grow as a person. I asked her if she had any identity issues or stuff like that, and after she told me, I felt even more oppressive by my family.

Seduction is always more singular and sublime than sex and it commands the higher price.

M. Dow suggests that I should seduce someone.

It's just that we were talking about how he has his girlfriend, and now Mlle. Smith has M. Smith (haha). He says I should just go out and seduce a boy and get experimental with him.

Well, you know, it's pretty easy for him to go and say, "Just seduce some guy you think is cute." He has all the experiences and none of the inhibitions. I have never done anything before, and I don't know if I like the thought of toying with someone's feeling to relieve my boredom and loneliness. It's not really loneliness, actually. Maybe it's the desire to be loved by the opposite sex. I don't know. It just seems like since everyone's coupled up, I just feel kind of left out--not really. Like, sure I want to be in the same lovey-dovey relationship and do lovey-dovey romantic stuff too, I guess.

Anyways, the most farthest I've ever gone with a boy is sitting by him on the bleachers. Like, side by side. Arms touching. I remember how his arm felt really warm to the point where it was almost hot. It seemed to last forever, which was nice, but once it was over, it was over way too quick. Yeah, so the point is, I wouldn't know what to do, being the seductress.

Thing is...when he said that, I immediately thought of M. Lythgoe. I could always try. There'd be no harm done. We'd never ever see each other again after graduation until our high school reunion which won't be upon us any time soon. By that time, we'll be able to either forget about it or to laugh off the stupidity of youth.

But, let's say that I do succeed and he ends up liking me, what happens next? He's restraint by his faith; I by my family. It's just not going to work out. Plus, M. Dow says he'll disown me as a friend if I get with a Mormon guy. The last part doesn't really matter, but it's not as simple as it seems. Nothing good will stem out of it. He's Mormon; we won't hold hands let alone make out. Do I really want to lead him on (like he's led me on) and just leave it unfulfilled like that?

No, I don't.

The other option is M. Ward, but if I'm not willing to hurt M. Lythgoe's feelings, I'm definitely do NOT want to wound M. Ward in anyway. He's deeper and more sensitive. Plus, he's a lot closer to me than M. Lythgoe, who I barely know. Why should I spare a stranger's feelings but not my friend's?

Our Steak Night is on Thursday, right after the second to last Art Show. I'm excited. It's going to be a juried show. I hope I at least get an Honorable Mention.

Tomorrow, we're all walking to Starbucks for the first two periods. Yup. Exciting stuff.

Now that I've started sharing things with Mlle. Jang, I've felt less lonely. Like, a lot less. Which is good. Anyways, I kind of helped her pick out an outfit for this concert she's going to next Friday: black blazer, white, patterned tank, black shorts, black tights, and black flats. That outfit's so me, but hopefully it'll look more her when she has it on since her body shape is not like mine.

There is a great relief in experiencing the worst vicariously.

M. Dow and I talked for three hours straight yesterday. That's the longest time I've ever seriously talked to anybody. I really do enjoy talking to him even if he's homophobic. He's just very open. Like, you know how girls are looking for Mr. Right? Well, me too, but not Mr. Right All the Time (ha-ha. I'm so funny I crack myself up). But having a Mr. Right All the Time to turn to for advices and stuff? Isn't that, like, perfect or what?

I gotta stop saying like. I sound so dumb when I do, but I feel like my speech is naked when I don't.

Today, we talked for an hour. Well, not really. It was actually a pretty boring hour. He was texting and I was listening to Ed Sheeran. He told me (on and off) about this girl that he really liked and showed me a picture, but I think she looks like a skank. Not because I'm jealous. It's just how I feel. But maybe she looks horrible in pictures. I know how that feels. I'll just trust his judgement on her prettiness since he uses that same scale when he tells me I'm pretty. Anyways, I got bored, so I feigned sleepy and ended the call.

Then I uploaded some of my Concentration pieces to the College Board website. Like, that whole time, I could feel depression creeping up on me again. Like, it's this feeling where something is clawing at the top of my stomach, an inch below the sternum, trying to climb up my esophagus. It's not a pleasant feeling. I hate it. I hate the warmer weather that always seems to trigger it. I need to go somewhere nice and cold all the time.

Then M. Dow video called me again and we talked for another hour. Like, actually talked this time. I told him about my mom and how her attachment issues. He was telling me stuff, and, all of the sudden, I started tearing up. I excused myself and went to the bathroom to wipe my tears. I knew it wasn't noticeable that I had tears in my eyes because I looked at my part of the screen right before and tried to act as normally as possible, but when I came back, he apologized for making me feel upset. Honestly, I'm getting my period soon. I always get depressed and become an emotional wreck right before, but the second part is a bit more manageable since I know about it. Anyways, we talked about depression, and he told me some really personal thing that I won't mention on here since M. Giusti will read it when I'm done with this blog at the end of the summer and I won't feel right indirectly telling someone someone else's secret. Like, yeah, I gossip. Not gonna lie, but this is different. It's not like, oh, that weirdo Johnny says he likes our Sarah; he says not to tell her; like hell we're not going to tell. It's not like that. It's like, deep stuff.

Anyways, I tell him how I sometimes feel lonely. Like, I just feel like people here aren't on my wavelength and they're not on mine. Yesterday, M. Dow showed me a video explaining how the string theory works and explained it to me more when I got lost. This morning, I asked Mlle. Smith if she knew about the string theory, and the first thing out of her was, "It's retarded." I barely finished my sentence. I was just so appalled. I asked her how it is retarded and she said, "I don't know. It's just retarded."

It's kind of cliché, but I just died a little bit right there. Like, this is my best friend. The one person that I'm closest with. Just dismissing something like this just because she doesn't understand it. I'm feel bad talking about my own best friend like this, but she just seems so ignorant to me right then.

Anyways, so I told him that I've got no one to talk to about things that I want to talk about, and he was like, "Well, you can talk to me." I smiled, of course, because I'm always smiling, and said thank you. Then I went on and described how I envision my ideal best girl friend to be. Like, I want her to look kind of like me...like, we could be taken for twins or sisters. Our appearance would compliment each other's. She'd be on the same wavelength as me. So, I told him and he said that I was way too idealistic and I'd just end up disappointed in the end. Then I got teary-eyed again and he looked like he felt so bad, but I told him, so we were good.

I shouldn't have promised M. Giusti access to this blog. It's become an edited, fragmented, and impartial representation of my life and feelings. I've just realized that today when I chose not to put in M. Dow's reasons for being depressed.

Anyways, I've picked my five Quality pieces.

The last one was fought over when a copy went on sale. I'm so incredibly flattered, so I told my mother. She said something like, who in their right mind would pay money for that photo? Like, my mood was so good before, and the moment she said, it's just like, I need to get out of here. But she stayed and asked me where Mlle. Velasco was going next year. I told her SBCC, and she was like, "Why?" I was like, well, she wants to get out of the city but she still doesn't want to pay a lot, that's why. And she was like, "Kids over here are so traitorous. What about her mother and all those kids?" I'm sorry, but it was her mother's decision to have those kids and her responsibilities shouldn't be left to Mlle. Velasco to sacrifice her youth the way my mother's asking me to sacrifice mine. God, now I'm all pissed off.

M. Dow thinks my mother is living vicariously through me. I suspected as much. I just want her to leave me live my own life, free from her interference. I want to be financially stable first, though, before I confront her. She'd thrown me out before over something ridiculous before. I'm planning to go abroad Junior year in college and I think that's when I'm doing it. I'll be calling from the airport and be all, "Hey, I'm going to England in a few minutes. See ya in a couple of months. K. Bye!" and deal with the consequences when I come back.

Eff this. My mother needs to get her own life. I feel so frustrated.

I did not have three thousand pairs of shoes, I had one thousand and I did not have three thousand pairs of shoes, I had one thousand and sixty.

Poor M. Ward. He's been rejected from UCSB because of his excessive absence sophomore year--thanks, mono. While Mlle. Jang and Mlle. Lanter are waitlisted, he is outright rejected and seems to be taking it quite hard. I found this out yesterday and felt quite bad because a few hours before, I told him that he shouldn't worry and that stupider people have gotten in. I got his hopes up so I must be responsible for its crash.

So, the next morning (which is this morning), I went to Burger Barn to buy him a breakfast burrito since he always seems to want one when I have one. I bought Mlle. Smith one too since I owe her money and this would even us out. And then I completely forgot about Mlle. Jang, who would have paid me back. Oh, well. It's funny because my orders at Burger Barn are so specific ( two breakfast burritos with only salsa, cheese, and eggs) the staff remember me, which is nice of them and flattering as well. When I ordered the extra burritos from M. Ward and Mlle. Smith, the guy in the back who works the kitchen who I didn't even know that knows I exist (if that makes sense) came to the front and said, "Changing it up, huh?" and the girl at the register knows my name. It's a very good feeling. I will make sure to find out their names as well.

When I got to school, I gave M. Ward his burrito, and he tried to pay me back for it, but I didn't take his money. Later, he thanked me and gave me a hug. Well, M. Ward knows how to hug. Sometimes, I wish all the guys were like him. The world would be a much more inspiring place.

So, I've been obsessing with lace a bit too much lately. I think it's sexy and provocative in a classy way. I already have two LBDs, but if I were to buy another, I would try and find one that is long-sleeved with a scoop neck (a crew neck is okay too, but I personally prefer scoop necks). It is backless, in a way, because the lace will span the back and connect with the fabric (maybe wool crepe) at the small of the back and the shoulders. The result will be this simply sophisticated that needs no further accesory that I will wear over and over and over again.

Before Anchor Blue closed down, I went and bought, oh, I don't know, only five million white XL t-shirts from them because I liked the material and I was planning to make my own T-shirts. I made one for Mlle. Smith as a Christmas present and really liked how it turned out. So, now I have a bunch in my closet, and I haven't been inspired yet until like, five minutes ago. I want something simple but very eye-catching. This will do.

I don't want mushy stuff like a heart or love. I want my shirts to be simple yet grand at the same time. A peace sign is good, no?

We dissected a cow's eyeball today. It was so awesome. We got one that was really meaty, so this other girl and I hacked away until only the eyeball is left. We did the regular stuff, and the best part about it all was the tapetum lucidum, this thing that reflects light back into the eyeball that allows the animals to have superior night vision.

Barnard. What to do about Barnard? I really do believe in ESP now. My brain just feels depressed when I think of Barnard, and, it's hard to put it into words, but I think the brain is going into this mode where it is indifferent about everything, to prepare me for probably the biggest rejection and disappointment of my life. Just kidding. The greatest disappointment will be saved for medical school applications.

The Friday that M. Lythgoe asked Mlle. Pillado to Prom, I wanted to have the line "today is the day when dreaming ends" from the song One Day I'll Fly Away (Reprise) from Moulin Rouge. In the beginning, she sings, "Why live life/from dream to dream/and dread the day/when dreaming ends," because she was just ready to go away from the whole courtesan life that she had. And then she fell in love with Christian, and when their love was threatened, they made plans to go away, you know, the whole shebang. Then she found out that she had tuberculosis and that if the Duke couldn't have her, he'd have Christian killed. So, she had to make him believe that she didn't love him. So, she sang the Reprise before going to tell him that the plan was off since the Duke offered her riches poor Christian couldn't.

That scene is very heartbreaking. I cried. Like, really hard. So, I was going to put that for my quote, but then I was like, actually, I'm going to save that from the day that I get rejected from Barnard because it fits better there. I mean, it's just M. Lythgoe. Sure, he's cute and I'm kind of attracted to him, but he just doesn't matter much because I don't even like him that much. Gotta put things in perspective.

I've been drinking NON-SWEETENED tea since yesterday since I kind of blew that off a month in because I ran out of chamomile tea and had to drink yucky cinnamon and apple cider tea instead. That stuff is nasty without, I don't know, ten tablespoons of sugar. So, to get back on track to detoxing and cleansing my body for Prom, I've picked up my tea habit with:

which has chamomile, blossom, and, best of all, rose petals, which makes it taste kind of like rosewater--or what I imagine rose water to taste like based on its smell because I'm not stupid to drink fragrance water. Just saying.

My shoes came! Me and two other girls are planning a Heel Day at school! I am so excited!

Isn't it weird how depressed and forlorn I felt before and how excited and happy I am now? Hormonal much? I kind of want to go on the pills to regulate this and eliminate the depression, period. But I don't want chemicals and stuff to mess up my body and possibly leave me infertile--I mean, I know I'm always going on and on about how I don't want to give birth, but I would like to have options, thank you very much.

Do not dwell in the past; do not dream of the future; concentrate the mind on the present moment.

Today was an amazing day! Us AP Art and Art History kids went roaming in Old Town Pasadena for the whole day and then stopped at the Norton Simon Museum to finish up. Before that, we went to Dick Blick, the most amazing art store EVER! The Art History kids were like, "Okay, whatever. It's just a huge art store", but the rest of us went crazy. I picked up a set of gouache instead of watercolour, a palette to put the gouache in, and a set of graphite pencils that go all the way up to 9B. 9B! I love doing dark lines! Mlle. Jang and Smith did almost the same thing, except Mlle. Smith bought Prismacolor color pencils because color pencils is totally her medium. Mlle. Jang is pretty versatile, and I don't know what she bought.

We had a blast chilling and eating before noon, when we were supposed to be at the museum. Anyways, since Mlle. Schneider and I are vegetarian, our group (Mlle. Smith, Jang, Schneider, Hai, Choi, and Murphy and M. Ward and Purwadi) had to find a restaurant that would accommodate that special needs. While looking for the restaurant, Mlle. Smith and I decided to split and go to H&M instead because I've never been there. We looked around, and I saw a bunch of bags that I would love to have, but since I already blew, I don't know, $45 at Dick Blick, I couldn't afford to drop another huge sum of money just because. So, Mlle. Smith and I each got a really cute dress and went to the dressing room to try it on and took pictures. We looked cute, if I do say so myself.

Then we got a call from Mlle. Schneider saying that they'd be eating at Johnny Rocket and I told them we would meet them there. We went to a frozen yogurt store and then to Johnny Rocket before heading back to the museum.

At the museum, our group got cut up again with only me, Mlle. Smith, Jang, and Schneider. We had to complete this scavenger hunt thing. It was fun, but when we were done, Mlle. Smith and I went out to the garden to take more pictures. We had a fun time.

It got so hot during the day in Pasadena, and I was wearing a black scoop-neck thermal with black tights under a white dress. Yeah, I looked nice (if I do say so myself), but not weather-appropriate. But as soon as the bus started, the breeze and wind came in and Jesus Christ, it took forever for me to de-tangle my hair after an hour of about 70 mph wind.

Then, I got home and worked on Mlle. Coleman's dress. Here it is.

There's three versions because she likes blue and green, but I detest the color green and don't really care for blue. The red one is personally my favorite, but this isn't my prom dress. So I drew up three for her to see her options.

And then I found out that M. Smith will ask Mlle. Smith (haha) to the Prom THIS WEEK! And I'm probably the first to know about it! I was so excited, I called Mlle. Jang to tell her. Mlle. Jang is very excited too. So now our bus has ten people. We have room for 22. So, that's, like, not even half yet. I am awfully fond of Mlle. Jang and wish she could come with us, but she is committed somewhere else.

I don't think anyone will ask me. I don't have any close guy friends. I kind of want M. Lythgoe to ask me, but I seriously doubt it. His ego is too big to risk a rejection. Plus, even if he does, transportation complications will arise.

I know I've been all "I can't wait to get out of her/this year to be over", but I think I will seriously miss it once it is over. I'll miss the people that I've spent years with, the people who love me and whom I love. Time has never been my friend, and it probably will never be my friend.

For me being depressed means you can spend all day in bed, and still not get a good night’s rest.

I was feeling down for the first two periods at school today for no reason. Like, really down. So down it was not even funny, but I sucked it up and held it in like a big girl and went on my way. School went by like usual. I couldn't switch into Shakespeare and American Government AP like I wanted. Even though I don't know if I will like American Government CP, at least I will have it with Mlle. Johnston and still have Mme. Berman as a teacher. If I was in Shakespeare, I would be with Mlle. Smith, Jang, and Tran, but would be stuck in American Government AP with Mlle. Zhou and her obnoxious friends.

Mlle. Smith and Tran came over today to work on our scholarship packets. I love her very much, but I often wonder the extend to which Mlle. Smith can do for herself. She looked really pretty today with her hair slightly curled. Mine would never retain the curliness for the whole. I wish it would just hurry up and grow already.

Anyways, I called the cruise line company or whatever and got an estimation for our senior trip. If we were to go two to a room, it would be about $640ish including tips. However, if we were to do four to a room, then it would be $550 top. I'm super excited to go. To top that off, Mlle. Johnston's invited me to go with her and our dear friend Monsieur Steven to Six Flags this Saturday. I don't think I can go though, because I already took last Saturday off, plus I need to save money for all kind of stuff.

Anyways, I found this blog yesterday, and it is exactly what I need. She's an American writer living in Paris and writes about her experiences there. From what I've read so far, they are very detailed and interesting, filled with things people would usually consider banal or superfluous, but exactly what I need and want to know.