Okay. Fail. I can't sleep. x.x

So I'm going to upload songs today instead of waiting for tomorrow. nobody downloads them anyway. >.>

Sleeeeeep..... ;_________________; I have nothing to do atm and I'm wide awake and this sucks.

Shiwon!fic has hit a dead end and I'm... going to rewrite it. Kyu!fic is dying on me and bascially I feel like dying too. Because seriously... Kyu!fic, you're not supposed to die on me. ;___;

*should go find Adonis Camp downloads and download the WHOLE thing and just go crazy watching it* >.>

Aish. I suppose that I should continue writing doll!fic.

And RL issues? Everyone's too busy with their own lives (and, well, exams) to entertain me... which might end up with me going to watch a movie or going to Redbox by myself. Lol. Yay for lack of life.
You don't understand how I hate myself for laughing at this. I'm so lonely it hurts. You don't understand.
Also, Hongki stop breaking my heart.

I'm starting to forget bits and pieces of Project: Hybrid, which is good? I'm thinking, now that I have so much time to think about it, that if I had never decided to explain why, if I had just left it as superpower!highschool!fic, it would have been written.

But, maybe you don't understand, I wanted it to stand out. I wanted it to be different. I needed an explanation in it. It started getting complicated. I threw in vampires. Decided it wasn't enough, threw in elementals and explanations and angels and demons and scalpels and white coats and experiments and failures and retribution.

But it's funny. How I never really had a certain background for it. I couldn't find the ideal city. I was thinking of using America and was basically searching for cities fitting the ones I had in mind. Then, well. cityverse started and her vamp!fic is in America, well. Yeah. I figured I didn't know enough about America to actually write it. That, and I couldn't find something that fit so I cancelled it out.

Then, a lot of events occur in England-like places. A lot of the background scenes. But then, I gave up, thought of just stuffing them in a place and leaving it kinda unnamed.

Sigh. I don't have enough willpower to actually start and finish anything epic. I know. I'm just good at creating but not good at sticking with it to watch it grow. I'm not good at nurturing plot and let it blossom. I can't.

But nobody wants to adopt my plots anyway.

That and I don't have enough wit to make anything interesting enough to last for long. I'm just deadpanning stuff and stating it and my writing is lacking. Lacking something. I don't know what. I need to find out. I try.

If everyone can do so well, why can't I? I can. I must. I will. I have to. It's one of the very few things that remain precious to me.

I may sound desperate when I write this, say this. But you don't understand. I am desperate. I am desperate to prove to myself, to the world, to everyone I know, that I can do something and I can do it right. Failure is nothing new. Disappointment is always there.

I'd like to blame someone, blame something (like how s/he made me so sad that I couldn't do anything but stare at the wall for days, or how the lack of sleep is seriously getting to me, or how stressed I am, or how lonely s/he has made me feel, or I'm asexual, I don't do romance. Something. Anything. Give me a break, I want to say to myself). But that won't get me anywhere.

Give me wings, I wanted to say once. But now. I think. Even if you gave me wings, I wouldn't fly because my heart feels too heavy.

I tell myself that I can't run away. I shouldn't.

You don't know this. You don't understand. I'm a coward. I fear. I fear so much, fear too much. Anger is just something that forms when I can't say, "I'm hurt. Because of you." Anger is just an extension of cowardice. I'm not strong enough or brave enough to go straight to you, tell you that the things you're doing hurts me. But it does hurt. Yet, I've learnt from experience that I can't afford to be any weaker than I already am.

The last time I gave in was the last time I almost lost a friend for good.

People call me ice. They don't know the truth in their words. People also call me fire, passion (a paradox, many would say), but I wonder. I wonder. Do they understand what they're saying?

...Do I understand what I'm saying? Do I know what I'm wishing for?
do you know how my heart is breaking? I'm hurting myself. Nobody's saving me from myself. You don't understand.