Life of Passion!

Bazinga. I'm Sherlock Holmes. Geronimo!


This blog is full of the main things that my life revolves around.

-Doctor Who.

-The Big Bang Theory!

-Sherlock Holmes.

And some others added in. So enjoy this shit. :)

I have nobody to talk to. My best friends have gone. They rarely speak to me, unless they want to know something or show me something. I’m so lonely. And it hurts. It all comes down to this. School. Stress. Work. Isolation. Worry. Loneliness. Sadness. And one day soon, it’ll all come down to a point where I’ll just want to curl up and die. 

I hate New Years. You know why?

All of my friends are out. 

All of my friends didn’t even consider to ask me to go with them to a party.

Another year, without Dad here.

No boyfriend, because I’m a freak and ugly. 

I have a terrible past but boys cannot see past that. That was three years ago. 

I have never felt so lonely. 

I have no hope.

Welcome to my real world.

Heartbreak has struck again.

I saw some pictures that I was never meant to see, and… I’ll never have that with you, will I? Ever. So what is the point?

Goodbye.

It’s unlikely anyone will see this but…

Right now, I’m thinking, “Why did he do this to me? Why did he completely break me?” It’s like in the last two years, he has enjoyed seeing me in pain, suffering in his presence. It doesn’t seem fair. I loved him. I adored him. He may have been one twisted, evil boy but there was a lovely, decent, caring guy hidden in him. And I was so lucky to have seen that side of him. Every single moment I had with him, talking to him, being in his arms…these moments was the happiest I can remember after Dad’s death. Obviously, the most happiest moment was when I was with Dad and Mum at our hometown but with him, I felt like I was home. Like I belonged with him. 

And the saddest thing is, I’ll never have that again. Not with anyone. Because I cannot bring myself to. I’m petrified of getting hurt again. It nearly destroyed me last time; I was literally on the brink of death. I don’t wanna that to happen to me ever again. I know this is life but I have an incapability to deal with heartbreak and rejection. I have my friends and family, I know, and I love each one of them, but sometimes, I just miss him. Sometimes, early in the morning, I wake up and wonder if he’s on. Then I remember. I haven’t spoken to him in two years, and it’s likely we’ll never speak again. Just strangers in corridors, not looking at each other in the eye; him because he has a hint of what he did to me, and me because I cannot bear to feel the pain he has cursed me with for the rest of my life.

You slept with one of my oldest and bestest friends? How could you do this, you… oh god.

I’m in depression. I have, since September 1st 2010. That’s nearly two years. As soon as I find a glimmer of hope of being truly happy, someone came along and ruined it. The reason I went into depression? Society. School. Expectations. There was a guy I liked and he ended up telling everyone I gave him a “something.” I can’t even say it because it fills me with disgust that he would ever say that. But he did. He told everyone. And I just cried and cried for months straight. It took me 10 months to be able to resume school full-time. It was that bad I did try to kill myself - painkillers, Prozac overdose, a high and lethal dose of insulin, drowning myself in the bath, walking onto the road. The closest I came to death was when a bus nearly hit me to the ground. Tragically, it managed to stop in time. I wish it didn’t. I wish it just ploughed though me. This way, I wouldn’t have to sit here, sobbing my heart out because I like the same guy that spread that rumour, and everything he promised, has disappeared. He went off with lots of girls at a festival and he didn’t even have the decency to admit it. I had to find out through Twitter and Facebook. And he even retweeted the tweet, like he was proud of it. I tried to ignore him but he keeps coming back, asking me why I’m ignoring him, why I’m being like this.


Only if you knew, boy. Only if you knew that I like you more that I should. And for that, I will always hate you, and I will never ever forgive you for making me feel like that I have to pretend that everything’s okay and that I don’t and won’t notice these stuff, like “womaniser weekend.”

And now, I’m falling back into this pool of depression…and I don’t know what to do. Should I return to the doctor and admit I’m depressed again? I’m scared. Because he makes me feel like I have to pretend constantly. I cannot do that. Not for you. But I feel like I have to.

It hurts. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. I feel a numb pain in my chest, I cannot breathe, I cannot sleep, I cannot stop crying, I don’t have an appetite. Nothing. I have no life.