Why am I even stating the obvious? You can say it's so that people know how easy it is to use me. How easy it is for me to dislike people. I guess that's all I have in my ming for now. Bye bye.
-Poppy
The Creator
- Poppy
- Welcome to the mind of a mentally unstable girl. Or lady. It varies from person to person, y'know? Anyways, enjoy whatever I write, alright?
My Worshippers!! (I Wish)
Listen to What I Like! DO IT!
Ever had that feeling that you're being used. Ever been used and knew it as it was happening? It's not a nice feeling, let me tell you that much. It's creepy and violating and horrible.
Holidays Help - A LOT, Part: 2
Since it is Christmas Eve, I will finish all the bad things I've done and tomorrow I promise to have a wonderfully light story for you. (And I never break a Promise.)
8th grade: (continued)
Shortly after the folder incident, we had a project we had to do. But the thing was that it was going to graded by the entire class. At first I thought nothing of it, but then I realized my group had to grade possibly the only "failed" groupd in our class. It wouldn't be a problem, but since I was going to grade, you see, I was surely going to be punished. When the teacher asked me what grade the group deserved (which was a Fail) I looked around and felt those stares. I smiled weakly and said, a B. The teacher frowned and asked me again. Again a B, I said. She threatened to fail me for my part of the project (which was a lot), if I wasn't fair with the grading. Everyone was still glaring at me and I felt my eyes water. The stress was getting to me. I didn't want to fail, but I didn't want to be the bad guy either. When the teacher called my name I just snapped. I yelled, "LEAVE ME ALONE!!" and got up and ran out of the class.
9th-10th grade:
I thought I was going to die. Another four years? I just survived the last three by a string. How the fuck was I going to make it here? Fortunately, it was during this time that I met some decent people. People like Momo, Kenia, Nicolei, Monique, Ariel (my old crush), Lulu, and others. (This is also when I believe I met Leo, my best friend's boyfriend at the time -I fucking hated his guts. x3 Look at me now. :P-) These were people who somewhat defined the rest of me. I feel like all the bad thing about me, are from what I got from middle school. (I'm sarcastic to people, I tend to be mean, and keep my distance.) The good things are from the people who know me to a point where they can piece me together.
There were an small events that happened though that wheeled me back to the drawing board. Martin, a classmate from middle school loved to be funny at other people's expense. I was walking to my class one day when he spotted me. He soon followed and kept repeating, "Leave me alone," in a mocking tone. I ignored him, but as soon as I was in a restroom I cried like I never cried before.
Another incident that happened was in ninth grade. I almost forgot how Libby looked like when I saw her coming towards me. My insides twisted. She was smiling awkwardly and asked to speak to speak to me in private. as soon as we were alone, she began to hit me and then ran off, not really leaving any evidence behind of what happened. I never got near her again. (But chances are that I would still try to talk to her. Even now.)
11-12th grade:
Drama. I've seen all before in middle school and seeing it tear apart those around me was nothing but torture. But then I realized, it was like a test to see who were really meant to survive in this world. I'm not sure if I failed or passed, but all I do know is that if the majority lost their sanity during this time, I'm sure I'm practically INSANE.
There you go. A small history of the things most people would call friends. Now, go fuck off.
I'm joking. I feel lighter today. Like I accomplished something great. Something... deep? Nah. More like revealing. Yeah, let's go with that.
Anyways, I want to wish all of you, my readers, a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
-Poppy Mare
8th grade: (continued)
Shortly after the folder incident, we had a project we had to do. But the thing was that it was going to graded by the entire class. At first I thought nothing of it, but then I realized my group had to grade possibly the only "failed" groupd in our class. It wouldn't be a problem, but since I was going to grade, you see, I was surely going to be punished. When the teacher asked me what grade the group deserved (which was a Fail) I looked around and felt those stares. I smiled weakly and said, a B. The teacher frowned and asked me again. Again a B, I said. She threatened to fail me for my part of the project (which was a lot), if I wasn't fair with the grading. Everyone was still glaring at me and I felt my eyes water. The stress was getting to me. I didn't want to fail, but I didn't want to be the bad guy either. When the teacher called my name I just snapped. I yelled, "LEAVE ME ALONE!!" and got up and ran out of the class.
9th-10th grade:
I thought I was going to die. Another four years? I just survived the last three by a string. How the fuck was I going to make it here? Fortunately, it was during this time that I met some decent people. People like Momo, Kenia, Nicolei, Monique, Ariel (my old crush), Lulu, and others. (This is also when I believe I met Leo, my best friend's boyfriend at the time -I fucking hated his guts. x3 Look at me now. :P-) These were people who somewhat defined the rest of me. I feel like all the bad thing about me, are from what I got from middle school. (I'm sarcastic to people, I tend to be mean, and keep my distance.) The good things are from the people who know me to a point where they can piece me together.
There were an small events that happened though that wheeled me back to the drawing board. Martin, a classmate from middle school loved to be funny at other people's expense. I was walking to my class one day when he spotted me. He soon followed and kept repeating, "Leave me alone," in a mocking tone. I ignored him, but as soon as I was in a restroom I cried like I never cried before.
Another incident that happened was in ninth grade. I almost forgot how Libby looked like when I saw her coming towards me. My insides twisted. She was smiling awkwardly and asked to speak to speak to me in private. as soon as we were alone, she began to hit me and then ran off, not really leaving any evidence behind of what happened. I never got near her again. (But chances are that I would still try to talk to her. Even now.)
11-12th grade:
Drama. I've seen all before in middle school and seeing it tear apart those around me was nothing but torture. But then I realized, it was like a test to see who were really meant to survive in this world. I'm not sure if I failed or passed, but all I do know is that if the majority lost their sanity during this time, I'm sure I'm practically INSANE.
There you go. A small history of the things most people would call friends. Now, go fuck off.
I'm joking. I feel lighter today. Like I accomplished something great. Something... deep? Nah. More like revealing. Yeah, let's go with that.
Anyways, I want to wish all of you, my readers, a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
-Poppy Mare
Holidays Help - A LOT, Part: 1
Let me explain.
So basically, half of this year has been nothing but turmoil. I couldn't really control my feelings and I would basically shiver and shake at the thought of another human being -other than my best friend- getting close enough to know me.
Why?
Because every time I made a best friend, something would go horribly wrong.
So this Christmas, I'm going to go back in time and basically open up publicly about most of my issues that I've had with so called friends.
K-4 grade:
I was basically learning English since both of my parents were immigrants. This, I think, led me to being an outcast since most of my classmates knew English and meeting a girl spoke differently was just weird. I was weird. English was a hard language for me to learn and I distinctly remember an incident when a girl came up to me and said, "Say 'cheater' right and you can play with us." I thought it was just a kind gesture and I did. Back then though, I really couldn't separate the 'ch' with 'sh' so I ended up saying, "sheater." Everyone laughed at me, and for the first time in my life, I was convinced that a best friend was something I could never get.
5th grade:
A big change in my life. I can finally speak the language well and even better than most kids my age around the time. I even made a best friend: Libby, a girl who sat next to me and basically got me involved with the other kids. I felt like I was saved, that finally someone was able to love me. I swear, with all my heart and soul, I loved the girl (not in a romantic way) so much that once when there was a shooting, and everyone was under their desk, crying in fear, I was next to Libby. I was crying and so was she. I remember holding tightly to her, and she said in a little voice, "I don't wanna die." I didn't hesitate to answer, "Don't worry. If I have to die to save you, I will." and meant it. I kissed her cheek, to show how much I cared for her. I know it may sound stupid, but I was ready to take a bullet for possibly the only person (other than my parents) that loved me. That was the first -and only- time I was ready to die for a person. Shortly after that, she suddenly hated me and it got bad to the point where I didn't want to go back to school. Libby hated me to the point where she made threats to kill me, and I remember begging her to tell me what I did so horribly wrong. Graduation was the last time I ever really hugged the girl. I was fooled and thought she forgave me.
6th grade:
I have no friends once more and it seemed Libby was not in my school. I didn't care at this point, people threw things at me and I took it as it came. I was teased, left alone and at some point, I considered suicide. The thing that stopped me? I was too fearful of pain. It hurt already too damned much to take pain from strangers. It seemed sorta meaningless for me to die by causing myself pain.
7th grade:
Cliques are something I never understood. I had trouble fitting in, so the moment I was offered another friend, I took it. They were three girls: Ariel, Jasmin, Tammy. They were there for me when boys pulled at my hair, but abandoned me when the other girls held me down and poured soda on me. They were there when I needed someone to talk to, but for some reason they dissappeared as soon as I "jumped" for a "make-over." They were kind to me, but then I would take my seat and see the words, "Go die. No one wants you. Bitch." written on my desk. In their writing. They never quite comforted me when I saw a crush of mine make an insult using my own name. It was saying, "Son of a Bitch," only with "Son of a [insert your name here]." Yay. Go, Love.
8th grade
On my own personal choice, I stopped being friends with them. I felt like a villain, but we have to be a bad guy at some point. I never felt like an outcast once more, when I opened a drawer and saw my folder, vadalized with insults for me to die. I reported it to the teacher (cuz they're your friends, right?) but I was punished instead because the dean thought I was the one who did it for attention. I was the one yelled at.
And this is where I leave part one for now. Come back for part two, later on (if I feel like it).
-Poppy Mare
So basically, half of this year has been nothing but turmoil. I couldn't really control my feelings and I would basically shiver and shake at the thought of another human being -other than my best friend- getting close enough to know me.
Why?
Because every time I made a best friend, something would go horribly wrong.
So this Christmas, I'm going to go back in time and basically open up publicly about most of my issues that I've had with so called friends.
K-4 grade:
I was basically learning English since both of my parents were immigrants. This, I think, led me to being an outcast since most of my classmates knew English and meeting a girl spoke differently was just weird. I was weird. English was a hard language for me to learn and I distinctly remember an incident when a girl came up to me and said, "Say 'cheater' right and you can play with us." I thought it was just a kind gesture and I did. Back then though, I really couldn't separate the 'ch' with 'sh' so I ended up saying, "sheater." Everyone laughed at me, and for the first time in my life, I was convinced that a best friend was something I could never get.
5th grade:
A big change in my life. I can finally speak the language well and even better than most kids my age around the time. I even made a best friend: Libby, a girl who sat next to me and basically got me involved with the other kids. I felt like I was saved, that finally someone was able to love me. I swear, with all my heart and soul, I loved the girl (not in a romantic way) so much that once when there was a shooting, and everyone was under their desk, crying in fear, I was next to Libby. I was crying and so was she. I remember holding tightly to her, and she said in a little voice, "I don't wanna die." I didn't hesitate to answer, "Don't worry. If I have to die to save you, I will." and meant it. I kissed her cheek, to show how much I cared for her. I know it may sound stupid, but I was ready to take a bullet for possibly the only person (other than my parents) that loved me. That was the first -and only- time I was ready to die for a person. Shortly after that, she suddenly hated me and it got bad to the point where I didn't want to go back to school. Libby hated me to the point where she made threats to kill me, and I remember begging her to tell me what I did so horribly wrong. Graduation was the last time I ever really hugged the girl. I was fooled and thought she forgave me.
6th grade:
I have no friends once more and it seemed Libby was not in my school. I didn't care at this point, people threw things at me and I took it as it came. I was teased, left alone and at some point, I considered suicide. The thing that stopped me? I was too fearful of pain. It hurt already too damned much to take pain from strangers. It seemed sorta meaningless for me to die by causing myself pain.
7th grade:
Cliques are something I never understood. I had trouble fitting in, so the moment I was offered another friend, I took it. They were three girls: Ariel, Jasmin, Tammy. They were there for me when boys pulled at my hair, but abandoned me when the other girls held me down and poured soda on me. They were there when I needed someone to talk to, but for some reason they dissappeared as soon as I "jumped" for a "make-over." They were kind to me, but then I would take my seat and see the words, "Go die. No one wants you. Bitch." written on my desk. In their writing. They never quite comforted me when I saw a crush of mine make an insult using my own name. It was saying, "Son of a Bitch," only with "Son of a [insert your name here]." Yay. Go, Love.
8th grade
On my own personal choice, I stopped being friends with them. I felt like a villain, but we have to be a bad guy at some point. I never felt like an outcast once more, when I opened a drawer and saw my folder, vadalized with insults for me to die. I reported it to the teacher (cuz they're your friends, right?) but I was punished instead because the dean thought I was the one who did it for attention. I was the one yelled at.
And this is where I leave part one for now. Come back for part two, later on (if I feel like it).
-Poppy Mare
What I Did Today.
Well, in some sense, I can say I had a rude awakening of how my neighborhood is. All I can really say is that it's a very close knit community. And I mean that in a bad way.
It's close, because today some men tried breaking in. While I was home. Alone.
Needless to say, I was scared but what scared me more was that as the men were about to come in, I heard another voice say, "Don't go in! The girl's still inside!"
I heard the intruder say, "Oh shit," and then I heard scrambling like they were hoping off of something. During the whole entire time, I was in my parents bedroom holding onto a knife a friend of mine gave me.
This all happened in the morning. I didn't want to stay home after that. I left, went to Staples and hung out with Nicolei for a while. After that, Leo came by for a while and I told him about what happened. It's nice that he worries, but I wish someone would drop by and visit every single day. I just wish it wasn't him, because I would feel like I'm a burden or something.
I talked to Momo today about some more lighthearted things (that girl is my weakness I tell you) like how my MP3 officially died in the toilet (number 6? 7?).
Overall, it was fun yet I can't shake the fact that someone is watching me as I type this post.
God, I need to start my other blog once again.
-Poppy
It's close, because today some men tried breaking in. While I was home. Alone.
Needless to say, I was scared but what scared me more was that as the men were about to come in, I heard another voice say, "Don't go in! The girl's still inside!"
I heard the intruder say, "Oh shit," and then I heard scrambling like they were hoping off of something. During the whole entire time, I was in my parents bedroom holding onto a knife a friend of mine gave me.
This all happened in the morning. I didn't want to stay home after that. I left, went to Staples and hung out with Nicolei for a while. After that, Leo came by for a while and I told him about what happened. It's nice that he worries, but I wish someone would drop by and visit every single day. I just wish it wasn't him, because I would feel like I'm a burden or something.
I talked to Momo today about some more lighthearted things (that girl is my weakness I tell you) like how my MP3 officially died in the toilet (number 6? 7?).
Overall, it was fun yet I can't shake the fact that someone is watching me as I type this post.
God, I need to start my other blog once again.
-Poppy
JUDO!!
This is my Judo class at LACC where I participated in my very first Judo tournament. The guy with the curly hair? He's my friend, Leo, an exceptional guy when it comes to being an ass. :)
I'll upload more, as soon as I can. :P
-Poppy Mare
I'll upload more, as soon as I can. :P
Man, I'm really tired right now. My self esteen is low and basically I feel like shit. I need to try and think about something good for once in my life. And not just try, I mean really, really try. Like, to the point where I might die or something.
Anyways, I made myself a journal and I'm really happy with the results. It came out nice and neat, and just overall awesome.
I guess that's all I have to say.
-Poppy Mare
