But I was listening to the songs earlier. And I like some of them a lot. I think that they sound pretty impressive voice-wise, especially comparing to her previous album.
And there are three songs that really hit me: Nightingale, Two Pieces, and Warrior. The others I don't really care so much about (though Something That We're Not reminds me of Magic from One Direction...) but I really like those three songs. In this post I'll go on a bit about Warrior, and my story of why I think I'm a warrior.
Here's the video for Warrior. I think part of the reason that I like this song is because it's a "slowed down" track compared to the other music I usually listen to. And I would say that I can't relate to it, but in a way I do. Because as much as I am and was broken and depressed, I believe that I'm getting better. I'm not sure why, since things are going more downhill more than ever now compared to the past, but I find myself smiling more and more often.
Seeing as how most songs are love songs, this one is probably based off a past relationship that ended badly. But even if it isn't and actually is about something else, I can still just apply it to my past as it is.
This is a story I've never told
I gotta get this off my chest to let it go
I actually have told this story in part before, but never as much as what I will here.
It might be because I've become more numb than anything (that hasn't changed too much, unfortunately) but not much of what other people say to me affects me anymore. Back when I still went to public/private schools, I used to be tiny in height. Like, in 7th grade people thought I was in 4th grade tiny. I was wearing clothes for younger kids (I didn't mind too much though, because I still like and will wear Disney today) It's only after I switched to homeschooling that I got all the growth spurts I had. I'm not sure how tall exactly I am now, but I'm probably 5'2 or 5'3. Still shorter than average height for Americans, but oh well. I like being short :) (But on another note, average height for South African people apparently is 5'2 1/2, according to Wikipedia, so I'm actually average height...but then, that was also for years ago, so it might still be off. I don't think I care though)
I used to be teased a lot about my height, and it hurt a lot of the time because it seemed like so many people were against me. I realize now that most people were only poking fun at me and weren't intentionally being mean, but I can't help but wonder how many people really meant to be mean.
I didn't really understand other people, and in fact still don't, so it makes it hard for me to connect with anyone. I've never really had friends, except for when I was living in California before I moved here, in one of the many houses I stayed in at some point...it was a little cul-de-sac, but there were kids in just about every house there, all around me or my sibling's ages. There I did manage to make friends, and keep them. Those were the best two years of my life.
See, I loved it there. I was in first and second grade there, and I was smarter than most of the other kids (sorry if that sounds like I'm bragging, but it's just a true fact) and loved reading. I actually won third place in a school-wide reading contest for reading the most pages. My brother got first :) Anyways, there were a lot of kids there, and there was even two girls as short as I was. One was a Vietnamese girl, and my mom says that they're short anyways, and I was friends with her. I was friends with a lot of girls spanning my grades at the respective times, and some of the boys as well (haha, I've never really been repelled by boys. Maybe having two brothers at the time helped, three later)
But I also was teased there. I was a lot more moody than I am now, and sometimes I would "shut down" and ignore everyone. I'd put my head on my desk and not respond to anything. I got teased about that too, but even then I did understand it a bit. I was called a midget a lot, and sometimes I would laugh in their faces because I was feeling happy for whatever reason, but sometimes it'd hurt me. I don't really remember too much of back then, but I think I used to get into trouble because of me getting upset. But I don't remember too much, and I don't want to ask my mom about it, so I'm just going to say that I might be wrong. But I did get into trouble, and I'm one of those girls that follows rules...I don't break them too often.
But like I said, I didn't understand them. There was a girl that loved fashion and friends and that kind of thing: a type of girl I've never really been and so have never understood. I was friends with her, but I have no doubt that if we had stayed there and hadn't moved here, we almost certainly wouldn't be friends now.
But even through all the teasing and hurt (and completely sucking at P.E. because I'm not a very athletic person) I still consider it the best two years of my life, because I had friends, and I was happy.
Before then, I don't really remember. I was distant from other kids. We moved around a lot, so I never really got to make too many friends. But then we moved from there to here where I am now. Ten years this summer of living in this house, and I hate it.
I've almost always hated it here. I accepted it, because we moved a lot, but I didn't like it. When we moved here, there were literally no kids my age living in walking distance. A few kids my younger brother's age, one my sister's age, and the boy across the street my older brother's age that our family doesn't like because he isn't very nice, but nobody else. For two years I lived with public school, where I was teased about as much as I had been in California. I never really made any friends like I did, but I got along with people.
Then in fifth grade, another family moved right nearby. Three girls, with one happening to be my age. I used to be friends with her for a while, but she changed. I saw her last years ago with some of her friends in a fast food place. My mom and her mom were talking a bit, and her mom suggested saying hi to me, but she said no (so my mom tells me, anyways. I do believe her though) Since then, I've only seen her a handful of times by chance as she was walking outside to the car or something.
Of course, she changed after fifth grade. Fifth grade was pretty much the same as third and fourth grade, just with the minor detail of having a girl living close by my age. The thing that really hurt at that time though was near the end of the school, I think it was the last day of school, where the girls in my class were being themselves: slightly crazy, the kind of people I don't understand. They probably didn't mean to, but their teasing really did hurt me a bit. Because even at that time I knew that I wouldn't be going to middle school with them, rather going to the private school my parents had chosen, and at the time it was unlikely that I'd see them until high school. But they were who they were (are, maybe, but I haven't seen any of them since then, so I'm not sure) I think that even if I had gone to the public high school, I wouldn't have been friends with them anyways.
Then I went to this private school. I hated it there. They were probably the worst two years of my life, even if I have to look at my family slowly falling apart now.
There, I was teased a lot. There weren't many kids in the class, 18 or so in 6th grade, reduced to 15 or so in 7th grade, about half boys and half girls both years, and I never really got along with any of them. The girls were the kind of girls that I don't understand (fashion and whatnot) and the boys...well, most of the time I didn't like the boys at all. It was probably the one school where I didn't mind staying far away from them.
Some of the boys were mean. Not all of them, but some. I was teased about my height, as you may have guessed by now, because I read a lot of books (there was some reading program where you got points for taking a quiz on a book you read, and you could spend the points a few times through the year on candy and stuff) and because I was still smart (though here it was mostly because somehow with switching through all the schools I was really just relearning the same things and had some great teachers...well, for 6th grade anyways)
There was also this other thing. When we changed for gym class, I'd usually be the fastest person because I'm fast in that regard, and I don't hang around talking to other people. In 6th grade it was fine, but in 7th grade when I stopped that, some of the boys really pushed it. They started saying things like "I beat you" whenever they got to a room before I did, even if there really wasn't a choice, seeing as how they'd be in front of me in the line. I actually almost got detention once because I screamed "I don't care!" at them (it was the umpteenth time that I was telling them, but the first time I shouted it like that) and shut down a bit and cried. It never really seemed to get across to them that I didn't want a competition. I didn't really like that teacher. She never really seemed fair to me, but then, maybe that's just me.
And in 7th grade, on Fridays (or whatever was the end of the school week if we had days off) we'd play dodgeball. My class was I think the only class that played it. And part of the reason for that is because of me. See, I'm not a very physical or athletic person, so I'm not very good at gym class. Especially dodgeball. And when you've got the other kids throwing the playground balls hard enough that I ended up carrying an ice pack with me every last time except for one tiem where luck was on my side and all the terrible people I usually ended up with were on the other team and I didn't get hit once. But apart from that one time, I had an ice pack somewhere. I even nearly broke my wrist once trying to catch one of those balls. I don't care if anyone says that playground balls can't hurt, they do. I couldn't move my wrist very much for the rest of the day, couldn't put any pressure on it, though my hand still functioned. It was awful. Even a month later if I pressed on a certain spot it would still hurt.
And I still had to play dodgeball after that. You'd think that maybe I'd get a break after spraining a finger and nearly breaking my wrist, but I only got off for the rest of that day. And because of that, I don't ever want to play dodgeball again. Oh, and since I ended up babbling, it was because of me and the ice packs that the 8th grade teacher at the very least (not sure about the other teachers) didn't allow his class to play.
Also, throughout pretty much any school year, I was called a crybaby a lot, even by my own family. I cried a lot. And it's actually pretty awful, because I've learned to not cry because of them. Which is why I sometimes find it very hard to cry, and why I almost never cry in front of others anymore.
Most of my time spent at that school was awful. I used to like school, but those kids ruined it for me. It was more of a chore getting up early, and then trying to stay invisible at school (which never worked) and doing my homework, and starting through the whole process again. I honestly hated it there. (and the funny thing is, my sister knows that, since she didn't really like any of her classmates either, but she still friended most of her class on Facebook, and told me I should go and friend mine. Ha! Like that would ever happen)
Sometimes I wonder what things would have ended up like if I had gone to the public school. And sometimes I really wish as hard as I can that I could go back in time to stop my family from moving here, even though I know that it's not possible. But some people say that you shouldn't dwell on the past.
And now, with my family falling apart bit by bit, I've become who I am now. I'm more than just shy, considering myself to actually be antisocial, and I don't have a very positive view on other people in general. I can't even trust my own family, let alone other people. I really keep to myself, and rarely let anyone, including my own family, know how I really feel. There is literally only one person I talk to infrequently that I can talk to without needing to be careful what I say. And I still know barely anything about him, even though it's been more than half a year since we've met. (Also, he doesn't really know anything about me either...just saying)
And then there's this blog. This is the closest second. I'm still careful with what I say here, because I don't want to start any wars with anyone, but I can still put down what's on my mind. I don't tell my family about this, because I don't tell them anything really about me because they woudn't understand (and I have tried to explain, believe me, I've tried) And still, I don't talk with anyone. I'm just venting whatever's on my mind. Kind of like a diary, but not really.
I am who I am. I'm a girl who was been shaped by past experiences, most notably being those that I've written down here. And it might be because I've taught myself not to get angry over the years, I may have also found a way to keep myself from being happy. I bottle up all my feelings, and sometimes it feels like there's something painful in my chest because of that. And even though I know it's not healthy to do this, I still do. Partially because it's a habit that's very old, but also because I'm afraid that if I stop, everything will come out and I'll end up doing something I regret.
If you had to look at me and didn't know anything about me, you probably wouldn't guess that I'm broken like how I am. You'd probably think that I'm shy, or I'm just listening to my music and not paying attention (I have my headphones on most of the time, even if no music is playing at the moment) But seeing as how even my own family doesn't realize that I'm depressed, I doubt that anyone else would. I have my scars, even if they're not physical ones, and I'll always keep them hidden. Maybe one day I'll find someone to share them with outside of this blog, but for now this is where it'll stay.
Now I'm a warrior
I've got thicker skin
I'm a warrior
I'm stronger than I've ever been
And though I still am broken, I'm stronger than I was before. It's probably not a good thing that I shut everyone out like how I do, but at least I don't get hurt when people insult me. Half the time I end up laughing in their faces (not that it's very funny) or insult them, or confuse them by not insulting them but still insulting them at the same time.
So that's why I am a warrior. I actually do feel better now. People say to talk about things all the time, that it'll help you feel better, but I've never really felt it. Half of the time it just made things worse because it's hard to find someone who understands and they get the wrong impressions. And I might be typing to no one in particular, with no expectations for a reply, but I still feel better. Because I know that somewhere, someone is reading this. And maybe one day, someone will understand. Maybe someone will pass this along to a friend, and they'll pass it to other friends, and there will be one more story of someone's sufferings on the web. Maybe a lot of other things.
I don't really know what will happen, and I'd be lying if I said that I wanted to know. I believe that it's better not to know, because if you know what would happen, chances are that you'd want to try and change it to make it better, no matter how good the future is. Because nobody is really satisfied with what they have and can have. We all reach for the things we can't have.
But anyways, this is my story. This is the first time that I've actually explored it as much as I did, because before I'd always shy away from it. It's not something I like I thinking about, even though it's made me who I am. So this has actually been somewhat helpful to me. Maybe it has been for you too. Because I am a coward as well as being shy. I rarely take any risks, and I find it hard to find the courage to talk about this kind of thing. There are times when I type something, and have it ready to post, but I end up deleting the post because I'm afraid. Because even though it's only a single push of a button that's keeping me from putting my thoughts on here, I just can't find the courage for it. Because no matter how much I'll say that I don't care about what other people say, I still do. Not so much that I'll change my life dramatically for someone else, but still to a point. And if I can find the courage to do this, then maybe you can too, if you need it.
Haha, whether you need it or not, I wish you best of luck in your life. I know that sometimes when I was feeling really down, when my friend wished me luck in something, no matter how small it was, I always felt better. So again, I wish you best of luck in your life.
*Holy snap...this ended up being long...even by my standards...and believe me, I usually type a lot, so something like some of my other longer posts that aren't this long aren't really that long to me, and the usual random post is fairly short to me...Also, this was typed out last night. I just couldn't post because I stopped typing at midnight, more or less, and my internet gets cut off at 11.*
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