After 10 Years

After like a couple of weeks which, in effect, is pretty much 10 peanut years, I’m finally writing on this blog. Now, since the last time I posted, I’ve done a lot of revising without procrastinating (in excess) because when you have a serious official exam the next day, it sort of motivates you to study. Strange… Also, I’ve had a lot of time to think. About myself and stuff. Yeah… But who wants to hear that crap? I’ve got some different crap to write about.

So… exam month as I call it. Other’s would say GCSEs but… no. So yeah, today I had my final ever English exam. Yep, English is forever out of my life, other than when I use it to… you know… speak and write and read and listen, but at least I won’t have to do it in French or Spanish! So now I’ve got 16 exams down and only five more to go and they are my easy subjects. The core sciences and maths. These will partly determine my future.

Now I’m just rambling so I’ll get on with it. The exams started off great. I just know I’ve aced R.E. if I come back with less than an A* I would cry because I put a lot of effort into this subject which I will never continue. Or at least continue for an A level or any other qualification because I still have to at least study it in my college. Yay. Well, R.E.’s not that bad. It gets fun when you get all philosophical and start asking the big questions.

Things ran smoothly- I got to leave school early or go in late or not even go in at all, I got good questions and I never missed any questions and I even got time alone (well almost alone- the third person was reading my manga) with my crush and we had a DMC (deep meaningful conversation, in case this isn’t a wide spread term). Yep, things were going well. But just before my last literature exam, things got complicated. My eczema started acting up and this time worse than ever and I haven’t really been getting any sleep, maybe, like, two hours tops. Even if I took drowsy medicine, I’d still be wide awake! That was when my parents, actually it was mainly my dad, found apple cider vinegar, an apparent ‘cure’ for eczema. I was skeptical, of course. How can you trust something doctors don’t even recommend? I doubt the doctor at the hospital even knew about it. I’ll get to the hospital story shortly.

It was hell. It was. I was forced to change my morning routine to accommodate this new treatment. Okay, maybe not much, but I was still confused about when to do it. Before a bath? After a bath? Do I let it air dry or can I dab myself dry rather than dance around in the bathroom trying to use kinetic energy to my advantage. My mum said I looked stupid. I did. I really did. Eventually I noticed my skin getting drier and drier and it even started peeling and my eczema spread to places it had never really ventured in the first place, like the top of my arms. When I touch my skin, I feel like a reptile. It’s that bad… and bumpy. Not only that, but did I mention that it stings like hell? Well, that would be undeniably incorrect. It stung more than hell. Wanna get sweet revenge on someone? Don’t use apple cider vinegar, because that’s just cruel. Steal all their money, publicly embarrass them and then pour boiling hot oil on them. Boiling. Hot. Oil. It would be kinder.

Okay, I’m over reacting, but I’m not entirely sure I’m feeling okay right now so if I write anything weird… sorry.

Right now, I’m not using it, or drinking it like they said to on the internet. I don’t want to smell it. Or look at it. Or write about it.

But at least one good thing did happen since that lit exam. I had one of those moments when I seriously believe I have cyclothymia. I couldn’t find a library book so I trashed my whole room looking for it. Then I yelled at my sister, yelled at my brother, yelled to the air around me, swore a bit and stamped around the house crying. I was certain my brother took it and blamed my sister for not watching him and letting him into my room. After chucking a bunch of my books at the wall like a mad woman in a fit of rage, I found it… stuck between my bed and my head board. I knew I probably slept while I was reading and dropped it there by accident, but after all that, I wasn’t going to admit it. I settled for throwing it at my wall. I swear, I’m such a nice, patient and totally sane person. Took the words right out of your mouth, didn’t I? 😉 Yeah… But then I felt really upset and really lonely after being locked in solitary confinement on account of my cracking skin, so I was thinking about texting someone. The first person that came to mind was my crush and I imagined texting them etc. etc. Then I dismissed that- too socially anxious- and thought about my long time primary school bestie, but then I thought she’d be busy, being how popular she is with like a gazillion million friends (honestly, how are we friends? How do even have any friends to begin with???) I didn’t want to not get a text within three minutes so I did the impossible. I texted my crush. I didn’t even believe it when I did but I did it. I DID IT! One small text for Peanut, one large metaphorical text for socially awkward-kind… Yeah, I’m going to need to work on my writing skills…

So after carefully crafting my text, expecting no response within twenty minutes, the response came within one minute. It took me a while to believe this, but eventually I convinced myself that I was not hallucinating and got ready for one long text chat. So we ‘talked’ and ‘talked’ and I somehow managed to keep the conversation going which I normally find extremely hard. I even told them that that if I was disturbing their revision, I would stop but they said they enjoyed my company. Well, without the ‘my’ but I like to imagine it with the ‘my’ or in this case it would be ‘your’.

I began to realise that it felt a little like a game. A dating sim, to be precise. I love those games and to think I’d get to do something remotely similar but in real life with a real person? Well, I felt like less of a nerd. Eventually I was running out of credit so I embarrassed myself by saying that I’d given them my house number if they wanted to talk (just in case they had pay as you go like me) and I was so embarrassed after texting that I left the room for a while, but they said no by the time I’d come back.. To be precise, ‘Nah, it’s okay.’ I felt like banging my head against the wall. So we texted our goodbyes and I spent the next few moments trying to get over it. They weren’t weirded out by it today so I think we’re cool.

But the moral of that story was. Even the socially anxious can do it if they try. I never used to believe that. Maybe one day I’ll confess to my crush… which leads me to my next topic.

Recently, I’ve been having this, ‘end of the world’ feeling. It seems like school was my life and that completely my GCSEs is like dying. It sort of creeped me out and now I’, worried it’ll happen on holiday. That’s why I’ve been thinking about what I would do if I knew I was going to  die soon and one of them was to confess and maybe steal a kiss or two… (I’ve been dying to know if they like me back or if I’m just getting that vibe because they are awesome and kind) They can’t hate me forever if I’m dying, I mean, we’re friends. So… onto the hospital bit.

I had written this whole part out but for some reason it deleted itself and I’m pretty tired so I’m going to be brief. So… after my music exam, I ate, my face and neck started to swell up so my dad took me to the A&E. I, being really dramatic, wondered if I was going to be told I had some kind of disease and that I didn’t have much time left so I thought about texting

‘I like you’,

to my crush. Of course, I didn’t think it was that serious, but I was pumped with all sorts of drugs (piriton, steroids, antibiotics… even today my dad gave me paracetamol and ibuprofen because he thought I had a temperature) and I was in the hospital until midnight and they were planning to keep me overnight (though it was pretty much already morning) but I would rather slit my wrists than miss my English Language exam. Also, I really didn’t want to stay, despite how much I love hospitals. Besides, I spent most of my time scratching, dabbing tissue on this mysterious liquid from my neck and face, and asking my dad what the time was every few minutes. I don’t think the room had a clock and I couldn’t really turn my head to look because… I couldn’t turn my head…

But I reckon I’m fine now. I’ve gotten a lot of sleep since then and I’m about to start biology revision. Hopefully, things will get better so my dad will stop waking me up early to taken my medicine. It’s really annoying though I know he only wants me to get better.

I’m tired…

~EpicCupcake signing out.

 

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