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Right, so I guess I should introduce myself a little better than I did on my first entry. That way, in case someone ever reads these (which I highly suspect is not about to happen) they propably have a better idea of what I'm rambling about when I write down things that obviously revolve around my life, mostly.

Here goes nothing,



I'm twenty-two, but feel twice as old.
My family always said I was born middle-aged.
Strangers usually take me for a fifteen year old.
I've often noticed that people find it hard to determine my age. I look like a teenager due to my shortness and overall petiteness, not to mention the baby roundness of my face that turned out to be something a bit more permanent than, well, baby roundness.
A year ago when I got transfered to another work place half of the staff thought I was underage, and the other half most likely still doesn't believe I'm actually not even close to thirty.

I come from a lower middle class family.
My parents divorced when I was five. I have a complicated relationships with both my mother and father. At the moment I think we've come a long way from how things used to be, and I'm content. I have long ago accepted the fact that I will never be best of friends with my mother, and my father won't be the one I turn to for support and encouragement. Things have improved a lot, though, seeing as though my father and I went about five years without talking to each other, and my mother had to stay on extensive sickleave because of the seemingly immenese mental pain I'd caused her as a teenager. She's back working, now. And dad and I do talk. I'll say that's improvement!

My father re-married four times. He has now four kids to add to me and my big brother that came from his first marriage with my mother.
He's quite the stud, yeah, I know -.-

Mom re-married when I was six, and they had a child too. Of all of my siblings (I know I'm not supposed to admit this, but instead declare my even, unfavoring love for each of them) she is the one closest to my heart. She was born sensitive, and vulnerable, and that is how she will always remain to me despite the hard-as-fuck willpower and attitude that she most likely got from me uhm, picked up along the way, ha..

I moved to my grandma's when I was fifteen. I dropped out of school when I was sixteen. After that, I found a job and started saving money so I 'could get away'. Which I did, right before my seventeenth birthday. The distance between new home and childhood home was now over 400 miles, and I started to study industrial painting. Cars, and such for the most part.
My long awaited freedom kind of blew up in front of my face in the worst possible way. I'm not blaming anyone else but myself, though. I found something I, at the time, thought was love, a girl named Sara. As you can imagine, nothing good ever comes out of two equally messed up individuals getting together. Life became a mix of booze and whatever we could get our hands on that would get us high.
I started getting panic attacks and paranoid fits that really got a grip on my head.

That lasted about a year before I made the hardest decision I'd made in my eighteenyearold life - I moved back.
More accurately I moved in with my recently divorced father. We lived in a one-bedroom condo, a studio type of apartment, the two of us.
After five years of silence.
It was time to talk.
It was time to forgive.


Happy ending? Not really. Dad attempted suicide that summer. After all the work, pain and hurt that fixing our relationship had brought up.
He figured he was good to go.

I see that as one of the biggest turning points in my life.
The next one came right after - I met the person I will simply refer to as H.
I realize I'm writing a lot of personal shit on this journal, but I'll count on nobody recognizing any of the people I speak of and not using their names is merely an act of respect for them.

I fell in love, and I fell bad.
There was really no turning back, ever. I never made the conscious decision to leave everything else and focus on him only. I never stopped to weigh my options or hear the alarm go off, of the red flashing lights when I started to find out about the state he was in. I had found my soulmate.
We got married pretty quickly.
I don't regret it for a second.
And the hook? Yes, cause there always is one. Always.

My soulmate was wallowing in self-loathe, he suffered from severe depression (though I don't trust that diagnose. From what I've seen, I would've bet on bipolar disorder. It was always either mania or blacket black..) alcoholism, drug abuse, eating disorders..
Right when I'd almost gotten myself stitched up and ready for recovery, something more acute came along.
I completely forgot about myself, without ever thinking about it, as I hopped onto the rollercoaster provided by someone who had been in a very dark place, for a very long time.

But I saw past all that.
In the beginning, I thought I could save him.
In the end, I understood  I couldn't.

That's all I'm gonna say about the past as of now.
At the moment, I work at a store. Second in charge, lol.
I still dream of getting away.. I was always an idle soul.
I'm planning on traveling to Africa next year as a volunteer, to work at an orphanage. I don't know if my heart can take it, though,
but I feel an urge to do my part in trying to better the world. The world is so ugly, and despite the things I've seen, I haven't seen nearly the worst of it.
I live alone now. My divorce is pending. I'm in a state of trying to catch my breath for the first time since I was a kid. I'm trying to find out who I was before, and get to know the person I am today. I'm trying to lay back, for once, and re-establish myself without anyone depending on me.
In all honesty, it sucks.
It sucks real fucking bad,
and it suck even more to know that I'm supposed to be enjoying this.
But I'm trying.
They say it'll get better. That time heals all wounds.
But I was never wounded. I'm not sure if I want to get any better.
I miss things. And I can't accept the unfair cards I was dealt.

I guess I'm going to have to cheat my way out of this mess.
I guess there'll better always be an ace up your sleeve..

I'll end my ramble here. I swear I'm not as depressing as I sound. I'm just having an awful lot of bad days, but I'm hoping to change the course in the near future. My entries propably won't be this dramatic and long after this, so I'll forgive myself for this one.

-Ninane

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I've always been bad with diaries.

In moments of enthusiasm, mostly for having bought the prettiest journal
in the store, I've filled pages after pages until one day I simply forget all about it.
Then I buy the next one, because the previous one, in my mind,
does not reflect the person I am at all.
I know it's childish, and an awful waste of perfectly nice journals.
Maybe by crossing over to the dark side, the world of online writing
and public display of whatever it is I wanted to make myself look like,
I'd be able to hold on for more than a week.
Maybe, if I kept going for a longer time,
I would not only see the reflection of who I want to be in my writings,
but who I really am.
I'm lots of things. I hardly remember all of the things I am.
I'm a sister (an awesome one at that)
I'm a wife
I'm a daughter and
a granddaughter
I'm working class
I'm a smoker but
not a drinker
I'm a best friend
and a second best,too
I'm a bit of a bitch
or so I've heard.
I like sarcasm,
but love sincerity.
I'm deep and
shallow.
Sometimes I think I'm terribly funny.
But more often than not it's just what I think.
We'll see..

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