i feel as if i’m contradicting myself with this whole consumerism thing? but i feel kind of justified because i only buy one nice thing once in a blue moon that i really want and my money is going to support genuinely good designers with positive visions?
anyway. i want to keep track so i can remove my bookmarks LOL (my bookmarks bar is getting too messy) so here’s a list of things i really want for the next….however long/whenihavemoney/wheni’mwillingtosplurge:
1) Reformation Leilani Top x
2) Reformation Scarab Trench x
3) Rachel Comey Mars Booties x
4) Association Semi Circle Bag x
*5) Yves Saint Laurent Tote x
(okay, this is way out of my league but I promise myself if I get into medical school third year, this is my present to myself because Saint Laurent is my favourite designer of all time. next to mcqueen obviously.)
*6) Tiffany & Co. Diamonds by the Yard Necklace x
(i don’t know if anyone else feels this way but i don’t like wearing any jewellery unless it has meaning behind it, so i don’t know, i feel weird about buying this for myself LOL. maybe after through therapy, when i finally learn to love myself, i can buy this for myself LOLOL.)
7) Larsson & Jennings Watch x
(ugh. but seriously, i’m going to buy my future husband a Rolex. they’re such beautiful things..i can’t breathe….)
8) lol..do i even include this? x
to be honest, i wish i can befriend an artsy fartsy person in uni and i can start a fashion blog. we’ll see. + that requires me getting a dslr. i’ll probably just get a refurbished one at the end of the school year…
okay. i am so sorry but this prom thing is the most overrated piece of crap event.
my friend wants to go in a value village dress. and you know. i love value village but if you’re going to spend 100 dollars on a ticket? like why the hell even go and waste your time? what are you going to do there?
look at people? people watch? “mingle”? with pointless useless brainless assholes that won’t benefit you in life?
people you’ll forget about in two days, some that don’t even deserve to breathe on this planet?
waste of time.
talk to me when i graduate medical school. like then i’ll make somewhat of a deal.
and the amount of people that make this into some sort of deal like it’s the epitome of the high school experience. anyone can graduate high school. it really isn’t anything worth celebrating. if you can’t even graduate high school, you might as well hang yourself now. donate your ticket money to africa. seriously.
or buy a nice pair of jeans. like me. or better yet, buy the mcat study guide.
buy your parents a gift for raising you until now. because that’s actually a fucking accomplishment.
it actually bothers me the amount of money people spend on this shit. LIKE DID YOU KNOW THAT WITH THAT MONEY YOU’RE WASTING TRYING TO FEEL LIKE YOUR WORTH OF PIECE OF SHIT ON THIS EARTH, YOU COULD FEED A LITTLE KID IN AFRICA FOR TWO MONTHS?
No. I’m prettier than you and I can dress so much better than you.. I’m just not 5’9.
That’s literally the story of my life.
Also. Today, I was intently watching this guy on the subway who was eating McDonald’s. He looked super young to be married but I guess Asian people tend to look young? Anyhow. Suddenly, I realized something. So the edges of his fries had the jagged edges of like a puzzle piece. AND THEN IT HIT ME. I thought up of a way to maybe be able to target proteins and small molecules to specific cell types so only the target pathway in the targeted cells are affected. I don’t know how long it would take. How much money it would cost. If it’s even plausible? An hour talk on tight junctions, and then watching this dude eat fries and then an idea hit me. ..Can I do sanofi again next year? Or honestly, I want to work at a lab during the school year next year. I have this idea and I really want to try it.
Ugh and then this new thing of gene correction therapy?
STOP. LIKE. CAN I GO TO PENN RIGHT NOW. AND VISIT DR. KAPLAN AND DR. SHORE AND TELL THEM TO DO THIS RIGHT NOW. GENE CORRECTING. FOP. IT’S LITERALLY PERFECT. ARE YOU SERIOUS. Of course. It’s never been done. So who knows what might actually happen. But I mean, idealistically speaking, gene correction therapy + FOP = Hallelujah?!!!!
OMG STOP T_T. I need to learn more.
In a perfect world guys, I would love to be able to pioneer the first research facility in Canada dedicated to rare disease research. + high risk cardiothoracic surgery, or re-constructive surgery, or orthopaedic surgery and then if I can lecture biochemistry or something later on in life, and do work in third world countries, especially like volunteer re-constructive surgeries. Man. That is my career dream right there. If anyone was wondering. Ambitious? Yeah. But that’s when you know you’re on the right track.
they keep asking me, “what can you do for yourself? what can you do?”
i know what i can do. die.
then i’ll be happy. then i don’t have to remember anything. i don’t have to think. i don’t have to breathe. i don’t have to live.
there was a motorcycle accident at eglinton and brentcliffe yesterday, next to where i live and i just keep thinking to myself why was that not me? why was i not the person in the passenger seat. why do these things never happen to me? i’m too cowardly to end my own life, why can’t it just happen accidentally to me. it’s like the world will finally be doing me a favour. why can’t i be raped in an alley, why can’t something just fuck up my life so badly that i have a legitimate reason to end my life? i want someone to hurt me. physically. i want to be slapped, raped, tortured, beaten, i don’t really care at this point.
i want to get him on the phone right now so i can hear more about where i am lacking. where i’m not good enough. how shitty a person i must of been for him to have nothing to say to me any more. i want to hear it all. i want to torture myself, push myself to a point where i can just do it myself. i already feel so empty and dead, why not speed up the goddamn process for myself. he might as well have thrown me off a bridge because that wouldn’t hurt less than the things he had to say. i’m just a charity case right? well i am so fucking sorry.
I. fucking. hate. spring.
I got a questionnaire from the psychiatrist I’m supposed to see in July, and literally, everything applies. Like. This questionnaire is taking my life and putting it on paper.
And if one more person tells me that sitting in a sweaty yoga class for an hour paying like $400 bucks for like 5 classes and breathing in some fixed position is going to help me get over shit, I’m actually going to punch them in the face because it’s not going to work and I don’t want to pay to be allowed to sit and breathe.
AND. I’ve had it up to here with people telling me to find something I like doing like knitting or plant arranging. Holy fuck. I find those things a waste of life. I like to study. And I like working at a lab. Those are the only two things I feel confident about and feel comfortable doing. LIKE PLEASE SOMEONE TELL ME HOW PLANT ARRANGING IS GOING TO HELP ME REPLACE A GODDAMN PERSON. SINCE WHEN WERE PLANTS THAT POWERFUL.
my chem mark dropped to a 97.
i don’t think i even deserve happiness at this point.
So I stumbled upon this:
They sell really simple but nice looking dresses for a some what reasonable price and by reasonable I mean not beyond $400.
And I’m sitting here. Staring at them. Feeling a sting of sadness, a punch in the gut.
I just keep telling myself, “Everything is going to be okay. Study, go to medical school, nothing else matters, nobody else matters. It’s just you and your dreams.”
I wish if I just keep repeating that to myself, I’ll somehow feel okay.
Like if I studied hard enough, all these feelings will just go away on their own.
I have an appointment with a psychiatrist at Sunnybrook July 3rd. He has to talk to me to properly diagnose me, and talk to my parents as well. Suddenly, it all seems so real. I’m not saying I don’t have problems any more, I do. But it’s scary. It’s scary to spill your whole life to a doctor that you just met, and he’s supposed to evaluate and analyse every word you say and then tell you what kind of crazy you are.
I feel like he’ll hate me. But why does that even matter? I guess it doesn’t any more.
I’m just so sorry.