Entry 3

Hey hoes and woes. That definitely doesn’t make sense but hey, no one looks at this blog anyway so I’m assuming no one’s going to care about that. To be honest, I do really wish someone read my blog because sometimes I get sick of talking to myself all the time. I want someone to talk to that I’m never gonna know in real life. If you’re reading this right now, please say something because I’m lonely. Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration but whatever, you get the gist.

Today I finished watching my Netflix TV show I’ve been watching for like a few days now; this Spanish show called Velvet. It’s literally so dramatic it could literally be called a fucking soap opera but jesus, I could not stop watching it. Obviously, I couldn’t understand shit but that’s what subtitles are for. Lowkey though, I know the basics of Spanish now (not to flex) and if I wanted to live in fucking Madrid right now, I could. Not that I would though. Actually, maybe I would. Idk, it seems nice? Oh well, I’m still a minor there’s really no point in talking about whether I want to live in Madrid or not. I’m getting way too carried away.

I don’t really know what to do with my life right now to be honest with you. I’ve finished my Netflix series and now I’m just a little lost. Hence, me writing in this. I think one of the big reasons why I even started this in the first place was no that I needed someone to rant to, well that too, but it was more finding a hobby. I’m not sure if a blog even counts as a hobby but it’s kind of my last resort. I’ve tried writing in Wattpad which was fun for a while until I got bored of it. Violin doesn’t count as a hobby since I’ve been doing it ever since I can remember and it’s kind of just part of my life and I don’t do any sport. See, the thing with me is that I get bored of things really easily. Like, dangerously easily. For example, Wattpad. At the start, I was writing nearly every day, updating the book like there’s no tomorrow. Then, you can guess what happened. I got bored. The updates began to diminish to once a month, once a year, then, none at all. That’s not even all of it, though. Today I told myself I would finish assembling the IKEA table my mum bought, I got 3/4 of the way through before giving up. So yeah, my attention is really fucking short. I want to change it, trust me I do, but how? How do you even change someone so deeply ingrained into me? I’m pretty sure I’ve been like that ever since I was little and I’ve never had anything I’ve put loads of effort into. There’s never been anything I’ve felt passionately enough about to put loads of effort into. That’s probably why I started this blog. I don’t feel ‘passionate’ about it per se, but I do feel calmed and relaxed writing all my thoughts out. My sound of my fingers rapidly hitting the keyboard is kind of therapeutic to me as lame as that sounds.

In the last two days I’ve also redecorated my room. Well, I wouldn’t call it redecorating because all I’ve done is replaced my bed side table with a new one and added a nice potted plant to the side of my room. It doesn’t sound like much but trust me, even that one potted plant has made my room look so much nicer. More aesthetic. It feels good having a nice room and I want to keep making it look nice. Maybe that’ll be my passion? Definitely not.

Also, this morning I woke up with a fucking lump in my armpit. Not sure why. I searched it up and it said it could either be an infection or irritation from shaving or breast cancer. So basically, it’s either nothing to worry about or everything to worry about. Fucking great. My mum booked a doctor’s appointment tomorrow and it scares me because whenever I tell my mum that something hurts, she never takes me seriously and hesitates before booking an appointment with the doctor. But, after showing her the lump, she immediately booked an appointment. She says I shouldn’t worry but I know she’s worrying. I just hope it’s not breast cancer or a fucking tumour. I’m only 15 years old for christ’s sake. I think it’s from shaving, though. I shaved like two days ago and it would make sense that the lump is there from it. Right? Maybe I’m just trying to convince myself and it’ll end up being fucking cancer. I’m worried. I’m also worried because in order to find out if it’s something wrong or just an irritation wouldn’t I have to take blood tests? Wouldn’t I have to fucking get a needle punctured into my blood? I absolutely hate needles, it’s literally one of my biggest fears. I’m one of those kids that cry during vaccinations at school so blood test? No thanks, I’ll pass.

Anyway, if I do end up having some tumour or cancer, at least I’ll know why I was never sure about my future. I have no future. My future is me lying 5 feet under the ground. As morbid as it sounds, I was never really a positive person anyway. It doesn’t really bother me to talk like that. Like just before, I was joking to my friends about my will.

See, the thing is that I might seem really light hearted to a lot of people, heck, maybe even everyone who know me but really, I’m worrying a lot inside. I don’t like to show it to anyone just because there’s this status quo about me being the ‘class clown’ and whatever and as much as I hate being tied down to my reputation, I don’t like showing people the other side of me. The more sensitive and self conscious side. The compassionate and sad side. So, I just write all of it here, on this blog.

I’m not really sure what else to write, to be honest. Maybe the next entry I write on here will be my bucket list before I die because I was diagnosed with cancer. Or maybe it’ll just be the medication I need to take to get rid of the lump caused merely by my shaving. Oh well, life is life.

See you next time.


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