I haven’t been out for a while now, and tonight I have to say goodbye to my dear Bertrand who’s leaving Denmark for six months. It’s a casual get-together, but as always I have gone all in with the makeup, the hair and the dress. When you have looked like a sick and goddamn ugly person for a whole week, you can’t help get a little crazy when you finally are ready to come out in the dark. I sure do look like a skank, but a good skank. A sofisticated skank.
yeah, I’m a total sucker for that hat….
So three days later I’ve finally woken up from a seriously good drug haze. How can you not love anesthesia? And things are looking differently, and you are probably wondering how.
I can start by saying that my room looks quite clean after my parents visited me. They nursed me after my surgery. Imagine angry little persian girl stuck in a dorm room with her angry little persian parents. The outcome: pretty damn good and no blood at all! We didn’t even think about killing each other…. maybe one time when my dad snored the shit out of me and my mother, but then she kicked him in the head, and he stopped. The next day he hurried out to buy us earplugs so he wouldn’t get a serious head injury of all the kicking. That’s a man in action folks.
Holy shit! I’m still sleepy and not able to finish this post at all. So let’s make this a part 1. Michael Pitt is waiting for me in his dreams.
Just checking in before the doctors are going to drug me up and cut into my flesh. Haha, flesh… I love that word.
Oh, they are calling for me now. See you laters peeps!
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So….I’m starting this year with full anesthesia and operations. Hell yeah! I just love getting a morning call by my doctor while practicing morning wood. Or, no morning wood for me today, but it could had made things a tad funnier. Maybe I just dreamt of it? I don’t know, I do know that I had the most vicious dream ever. An old cannibal couple moved in right next door to my parents, and ate my dad for christmas. I got so sad that we planned to killed those old fuckers, but first some torture was on the agenda. We fed them with eggs – they didn’t like eggs, and then my bunny Charlie Knox-Drake ate them alive. Totally epic dream, but we still didn’t get my dad back though. We had to settle with the leftover bones. Oh, well.. it was just a dream, right…
Though I could use a helping hand on monday. It will be my first time to get operated and waking up all alone. No stressed out dad looking straight into my face with 2 cm distance. No mom checking my temperature every 5 seconds and force-feeding me and no sister to keep my parents away from a distance, so I don’t feel the urge to kill them. I’m gonna miss that, I already miss that dysfunctional family a bit much..
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People have always told me that I have beautiful eyes. It is my best feature on my depressing face. Even my past boyfriends have been fascinated by them, and I could never quite understand why. They were so eager to look deep into my hazel brown eyes, and once I got scolded for not looking back. I never could. Maybe I did it to shut them op, but it wasn’t sincere. I haven’t even looked my parents in their eyes, and first now I’m questioning why. It was always so fucking hard when I tried to. I always felt like they could look right through their fake-daughter. Like my boyfriends could look through their fake-girlfriend. I never was that girl. That girlfriend. That daughter, which they thought I was. I was just a fake, faking a persona, faking a feeling, faking a life. Even faking a face with a shitload of makeup.
I lead one person look into my eyes once. And it was horribly good. It was good-bad, but not bad-good. I wasn’t faking, I was faking him, faking his persona, faking his feelings, faking an idea about how it could be. Even faking our situation with wine. Wine made everything better. Made everything more real, more real yet fake.
My sentimental melody.
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From today I have my own website. my own bought blog. That shit is expensive, but lately I’ve realized how much this blog actually means to me. if it wasn’t for this crazyass site I had probably thrown myself out of the window with pleasure after a good meal with meat, wine and of course some good music – maybe some Leo Ferré.
With that said I’m not all about suicide. Some girls imagine their weddings, I like to think how I would spend my last day on earth. Is that so weird? I don’t think so, but I guess I’m the only one or the one of the few who dares to admit it.
Back to the blog; it’s funny how much I have changed when reading every, single, pathetic and yet adorable post. I remember being head over heels for some guy when starting this blog and it tells. I seemed more happy then, and I was. But times have changed and I’m getting grey hair. Yeah, I found a few grey fuckers in my hair yesterday. 20 years old and you can already see me turning 50. How depressing….
The other thing about my blog that may have caused some wonder is the main direction of it. Or more precisely, the purpose. At first I really didn’t think much of it and I just posted things I liked and wrote about silly thoughts. But that’s not the deal anymore. This blog has become my own little creative workshop. My own poetry in my own way, and you know what? I’m really glad for the content. For the first time I have found a way to express myself fully and frankly it feels fucking great. There is a purpose with my use of words, lack of good grammar and everyday language. It doesn’t have to look good and I’m not aiming to be anything more than what I know I can deliver. Myself. Not an amateur writer or a Shakespeare wannabe (though with more fuck and shit end less love and “thee”).
So lets see what the future brings and which new invectives I learn to love and abuse. Ha ha ho ho.
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once she was a poor girl, but after she took our crash course she’s the best she can be. loving her life and following our path to self-destructiveness.
Call at 889-asshole and get the first hour for free. With this course you learn how to fuck yourself mentally up just by doing nothing. Yes, you heard me, mister! fuck. yourself. up. for. free. with. no. efforts. at. all!
All you have to do is get some friends from the opposite sex. This you can do with no fuss at all. just buy our “how to get friends by giving head” and you will get our fully instructions for the sum of….. 50 cents-and-fuck-your-friends!
And that’s not all! If you buy today you will also get the “don’t cry yourself to sleep”-pill! A pill that keeps you from feeling the horror of self-destructiveness, but remember folks – it won’t prevent you from getting chlamydia.
We look forward to hear from you,
Sincerely
Myrtle Self Destructive.
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“I don’t function before 1 pm” vol. 2
I don’t believe in new year resolutions because I’m a fucking fail in keeping a routine, which I’ve learned is quite essential. Apparently. But with that said I will try to be something I haven’t been 100 %. maybe just 20 %, but who doesn’t like to take pictures of themselves when they are bored?
So! My new year whatever-resolution is to be a fucking hardcore narcissist so people like you really can see how they are. You may think of me like one, but if that was the real case I wouldn’t get fucked uncomfortably by a few and yet too many homo sapiens. I’m just that sweet. Or I was. So from now on fuck you and you and oh… You too.
Do you remember I once told you I didn’t function before 1 pm? It hasn’t changed.
Filed under Myself, Pictures, Uncategorized
I think I’m pretty done for now. My new year resolution is myself, and everybody else can go fuck themselves till they bleed.
Happy new year and a fucking non-good year for those of you not lucky to have me in your fucking life.
Non-bye and non-goodnight.
