Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

Today I'm going to try something new. So many things have happened since I last graced the hallowed pages of my blog with a post summarizing what I've been up to these days. Yes I am aware that only 11 physical days have passed, but it's christmas holidays, so much more has happened.

We left off on the night of the pink party, if I'm not mistaken. It was amazing, I've promised to blog about it, I KNOW, but I haven't had time. The wednesday after that the school Christmas play opened. It was a hit with the 11th and 12th grades, younger grades didn't really understand it. My mum loved it, so thats enough for me. That thursday was a surprise party for two of my friends, a pair of twins, who are living in the US. They were so happy about it! This reminds me that on the sunday after the pink party I went to the airport to pick my two friends up. Had to get up at bloody six fifteen in the morning!! But it was worth it, their happiness the moment they saw us made it worth it.

The days since have passed in a blur. I've done all sorts of things: gone clubbing, to bars, to the movies, to starbucks, to dinner, to a park to take pictures, had a picnic, gone to the National Art Museum, gone shopping, opened presents, entertained family and friends... The list goes on and on. The Christmas holidays are always the busiest time of the year for me.

Any way, on to a little bit more personal thoughts. I sort-of-kinda "like" (not really the right word) two guys. Well three. Or four (No. He's forgotten: he.is.no.good! caca caca caca) I don't actually fancy them. I just feel that they would make good boyfriends. Not that they're interested in me as far as I know. The one guy who is interested in me and who asked me out is gross; in my opinion at least. He's nice and all but he's waaaay too oppressive and clingy. And physically totally not my type. He's the kind of guy I wouldn't touch ever. ugh. Shuddeeeer.

Another thought: sometimes I feel like a bad friend. My best friends completely selfless, good, amazing, and she had her wisdom teeth removed and I didn't go to visit her. She had to come to me. I'm a complete ditz. God. She's a saint though, and when I mentioned it she shrugged it off so I should forget about it. I'll try. Doubt I'll succeed but...

Going back to where men are concerned, the nicest guys are always the ones who have girlfriends. It incredible. I really like one of my guy friends (like as in best friend material ladies, don't think other things... hahahaha) and he's totally the type I would go for, but he has a girlfriend. He's one of my best friends, one of the best boyfriends (friend whose a boy) I have and he's taken. He's great: nice, tall, dashing, funny. He could definetly be considered a prince.

On other news, I had a wierd dream today. I dreamt I died. Don't aske me what happened I can't remember. I just remember it was sudden, and I remember reading something out loud that made me cry. I think I was reading something at my funeral or something, I distinctively remembre that when I read it 'in my mind' I didn't cry but when I read it 'out loud' I did. Strange, right? Think I have a problem? Hope not. I've been feeling sensitive lately. Anyway, if I remember anything new about the dream I'll post. It was so sad...

Thats all for now diary, I'm going back to editing and looking at the pictures me and my friends took today at Retiro Park in Madrid.

Goodnight, my dear Abercromboy.
Goodnight, my faithful readers.
My imagination has proclamed its feelings tonight.

Fre thee well my loves.

drunk guys are not cool.

Drunk guys used to be funny. They were amusing when we all started drinking; in those days we thought they were "cool"; however I've noticed that we only thought that because they were a novelty, something we weren't used to seeing, but now they are just sad.

I realized this last night. One of my male friends was already really inebriated when I got to the bar we were meeting at. He was sitting on the stoop of one of the buildings, with a frown and puppy dog eyes. He had a far-away look on his face and he was clearly not enjoying himself.
People don't realize that alcohol projects what you're feeling and amplifies that. If you're happy and you drink there's going to be a point when you're ecstatic, over the moon happy. But when the high wears down you'll be tired and sad.
And if you're already sad to begin with, or if you're not exactly happy you should just not drink. The alcohol is going to make you feel worse.

When you get very drunk your friends end up taking care of you. Yes, you'll argue that that's what good friends do, and this is fine if you get drunk once in a blue moon, once every looong time. But if you're drinking almost every weekend your friends will get tired of taking care of you. This is what's happened to my friend, the one I mentioned earlier and the one who's made me open my eyes. (Our friends still make sure he doesn't get into big trouble but they don't take care of him per se as they used to. They don't sit by him and talk to him and make sure he's fine every second. They watch over him but do their own thing, they have fun with the rest of the people in a party, in a club, in a bar or even in the street. He's no longer their first priority when drunk.).

Last night I also "met" another girl. She was a friend of a friend and talked to my group for a while.She was also drunk (what is it with us teenagers and drinking? We get stupider and stupider each day...) and was slurring her words as well as speaking really slowly. It gave off a really bad impression. It made me think poor girl an it turned me off. This made me wonder if all those times that I've drunk myself to the brink of stupidness I looked so helpless. So pitiful. Its disgusting.

I've promised myself that from now on I won't drink much. One cocktail is okay, but nothing more. No more drunk Me. I'm turning over a new leaf and I hope that everyone else realizes how sad one looks when drunk. How it doesn't attract people to you at all.

Now that I think about it yesterday was a productive night because apart from realizing all this I went to a pink-themed sweet sixteen party and got a visit from a veeery nice guy. But that, my friends, is a story for another post ('cause let me tell you, the party deserves one).

Badman

You know who you are. You're a jerk, you push people when they're down and you insult them. You take something I'm proud of, something others have complimented and you twist it up. You make me regret a choice I was proud to make and you make me feel bad, sad. You're an asshole. And let me warn you I'm no slut.

So fuck off and start growing up because you already humiliated yourself that day and I, WE, your friends, won't be so quick to forget next time. Let me tell you I won't put up with your attitude any longer.

Watch your back because the next time you cross the line I'm going to bitch-slap you. HARD.
So just grow up please, you really need to. Thanks.

OMG 3 MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT!

God I feel so restless right now!! I'm waiting for the minutes to pass, for the clock to strike 12, to stike midnight because my bbm will be activated! Goddddd I'm so anxious, can you believe that I'm only blogging right now to pass the time? I've already checked tuenti, facebook, tumblr and twitter in the last half an hour about a million times and with only 7 minutes to go until THE hour I have to do something!!
So I'm sorry if this is a lousy post but I'm not going to revise it.

I'll have to live with ONE careless, thoughtless, pointless post on my otherwise pretty interesting blog. I'll write something meaningful soon. As soon as I get tired of my new phone. Or until I have to vent reaaaally badly (my bestie is in London, someone will have to listen)

Lots of love
xxx

Yes, I'm talking about you.

I may look calm, but on the inside I've killed you three times.

Stop acting stupid because you know that what you're doing is wrong, dude, and ignoring it won't make what you did go away. It won't make you be less of a jerk and more of a gentleman. It won't change what you're feeling now. What I'm feeling now. And it definately won't change what we felt then.

But even though you're stupid, and immature, and a smoker, and you think you're so cool I still love you consider you my friend. I still think about you and wonder if we'll ever happen, despite the fact that I know we won't. I haven't lost hope, even though our situation is hopeless, I still have faith in you, I believe you can change, become that man you want to be. The man that I thought you were, or that you could become with my help.

But maybe what you did to me is making you change. It made you realize how you were and it's making you want to mature, grow, become a better person. Sadly, though, you're changing into what I wanted, what I want, and you're not mine. You're going to be great, amazing even! But you won't be mine.

And I'll curse because all of my hurt made you into someone else's perfect boyfriend. All sacrifices and no gain except for the memories of those two times and the days before, the days when I thought you were sweet, and tame and when I thought that we had a very posible future together. Even though these memories seem like hardly enough I'll cherish them, and remember them for they tell my story. A story of pride and love, hurt and laughter, friends and lovers, truth and lies. And my story, like any good tale should, teaches a lesson I should not forget and reminds me of what people are capable of. The destruction one event can set into motion; how one word can fuck everything up and how one small tendril of hope and a small smile can start rebuilding bridges long ago burnt to the ground.

Happy Birthday, my Friend

In order to understand the beauty of the story that I'm about to tell you, and in order to be able to appreciate true friendship you must know that my cell phone was stolen about two weeks ago so when I am away from home there is almost no way to get in touch with me.

Today was one of my close friend's birthday, she was turning sixteen and we decided that we wanted to celebrate by having dinner at an american-style food joint in the centre of Madrid. We planned and talked and decided what to do with our group of female friends. In the end we agreed to meet up at 9 near the metro station of one of the more busy streets in the City.

9 came and I had just barely left home. I was running late and had no way to get in contact with my friends, I had no idea whatsoever where they were, would they be in a restaurant? In the street? In a bar? I wondered if they would be waiting for me at the station or if they had left after waiting for so long. I fretted and worried and when I finally got there I saw that all my friends were still there. Everyone was waiting for me, knowing that without my cellphone I was lost. They waited for me for over 20 minutes and recieved me with wide smiles and huge hugs, happy to see me and already forgetting that I was late.

They waited not caring about the time they had to stand around. They stayed there not thinking about how minutes were ticking by but by thinking about how fun the night was going to be.
Friendship should be like this; I needn't have worried if my friends would still be there when I was late, for they are just that: my friends. There for me always. They are the family that I chose, and that should mean quite a lot.