Well it’s not a good one

I really didn’t think that the fact that that I can’t visibly sight any stars out of my window would get to me this much. After what has happened as of recent, I sort of needed a wish. 

I make it sound like I got hit by a car or something but quite frankly I really worryingly like the idea of that. Alas, here comes the list of things that are wrong so that I get to feel like I’m not bottling them all up inside of me. 

First of all, because the first two weren’t bad enough, I somehow managed to miss my maths exam which was today, A Level S1 if you were curious. It wasn’t on purpose but it sure is making me feel like shit with how much it is my fault. Like, fuck. I might have to stay in college for a third year which screws over being able to go to University with people I know. For a brief moment I thought everything seemed fairly planned out and I could go somewhere my best friend was going to go and now I feel like I’ve cocked that all up. God I want to go to university after 2 years of college and not 3. It might actually kill me. 

I’ve really fucked up with a person and yet they may not see it but I sure do because it’s starting to get at me and I feel like I have no way of breathing. 

My family all think I’m a joke because of my exam, and the more painful reason of because I fucked up with a friend and they can’t let it go. This has just led to me realising shit that makes things worse for me as I realise how much more of a fucking failure I am. I honestly can’t handle these thoughts anymore because they’re all true and it just makes it hurt that much more. They’ll say I should do stuff jokingly or at least I think it’s jokingly and yet they really don’t understand how much I want to do those things but I just fucking can’t because life can’t be easy for me but I shouldn’t worry because writing about it on this blog because I have noone else to talk to right now is sure going to fix everything

Depression doesn’t help along with anxiety suicidal thoughts PTSD and a whole load of other worrying shite. 

I’ve been trying to do daily drawings again in my sketchbook but what a surprise that streak only lasted for 3 days because I saw something in Facebook so I just threw my book to the side and collapsed on my bed to write this. 

Still have no job. Still spend all my money. Literally get given money every week for free, and I just spend it in that same week no matter what because I just can’t fucking help it apparently and it’s never even on me so my parents just love pointing that out to me. 

I want to die. 

The new Pirates of the Caribbean movie was quite good though to be honest so that’s nice.

The next number is 2668 by the way, putting it as the title felt like I wasn’t being creative. 
Thanks for reading 

 : : Ruby ❤ : : 

A Good Ol’ Natter

I revisited an old memory of mine, which I wished to share with you.

A few houses ago, yes it’s bad that I am able to say that, I used to be a weee weeeee lad. So weee that I used to do some of the stupidest things which nowadays would just make me start thinking over the entirety of my life. I assume you’re familiar with all of the things you keep in your bathroom, such as your shampoo, conditioner, face wash, shower gel, tomato sauce, mouthwash and toothpaste. Well, whenever the container they were in were nearly empty, I would take them and stash them all in my room (my mother was aware I did this, it wasn’t a secret) and wait for me to have collected a large quantity of them. Of course, I could have just taken full bottles, but I was a good child, so the ones I took were typically under half… maybe… Eventually, I would have built up so many different items where I was ready to do the next step. I would take a bowl and empty all of the containers into it. It doesn’t sound pretty, but it used to be a lot more fun than it seems. It was like I was some wizard conjuring and mixing this magnificent concoction which always used to end up looking like Angel Delight. Literally every time. I remember enjoying it also because it had a smell which was very significant to just that, in the way that I love the smell of Petrol, as it doesn’t smell like other things, whereas all flowers smell the same, let’s not lie to ourselves. Now that I think of it though, I probably shouldn’t have spent all my time smelling it. That might have been the cause of many existing problems now that I think about it. Oh no.

Let’s pretend this never happened.

 

Thanks for reading

: : Ruby ❤ : :

2732

Try not to question the current title format I’ve been using. 

As of recent, I have attempted to be more active on twitter since this medium of communication has been more helpful to me as of recent since writing a blog over something stupidly small that I could fit into a tweet makes me feel more depressed if anything, in the aense that it is like I am wasting your time. 

Life right now is at possibly one of its lowest points for a magnitude of random irrational reasons. I’d rather not go over the obvious like college and depression in general, though some new things have arisen. My mother got scammed, her bank account temporarily frozen, meaning that she’s had to borrow my money on occasion. I myself have no money, or very little of it. Probably because I bought someone an easter egg that’s on my twitter I believe if you were somewhat curious, along with just buying needless crap like that I guess. So, when I can’t give my mother money because I’ve wasted it all, it’s all just ugh. I can’t even sleep properly since nightmares/nightterrors exist. Part of the reason I’m writing this is actually because I’m too scared to sleep. I’d explain the dream but it’s personal and I wouldn’t tell anyone, so sorry. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had more than five hours sleep. Loads of people hate me once more, so thats always entertaining. I don’t even want the holidays to come because I have an uncanny ability to guess when I’m going to be most depressed, and I’ve not gotten it wrong yet. This Friday is going to be the worst, Saturday probably coming close. When I say the worst, I really mean the worst and im genuinely scared of certain days in the future because of this new found ability of being able to predict my emotions based on upcoming events. Graphics is in on Friday too, so everything is going to be amplified to be worse, along with my maths test and computing test this week. Already been set 20+ hours of homework for Easter,  and that’s just maths and I know I’m going to be set more for maths because why the hell would life be made easy. I miss Amy. I miss nina. Just ugh

I promised someone that I would go to bed soon so I’ll just leave. This was intended to be a happy post but I’ve already ruined that possibility. I wouldn’t bother reading this should probably be the title if it wasn’t so anti-clickbait to where it becomes clickbait. I hope you’re good, reader. If you’re not then hugs. Hugs anyway for reading this. 

Thanks for reading

 : : Ruby  ❤ : : 

Handcrafted Dreams

I hope this becomes a thing some day.

Handcrafted Dreams would essentially be some kind of website or store which you can go to, and they will make you have a certain dream. This could be the same dream over and over, so say for instance there was a dream which you loved so much that you wish it was recurring, then they’d give you something to allow for this to happen. It could also stop certain types of dreams from occurring, such as nightmares or anything related to certain topics. You could even pay them to forge your own reality within your dream, literally write a story to become your dream. Naturally, they’d stop people from making horrifying dreams etc, else the business would turn bad with pranksters and bullies.

I’d like to write nice dreams for people,  whether they’re ones that I’ve had, or nice things that I’ve come up with. Maybe show people interesting concepts. Perhaps even make games inside of dreams, which would beat virtual reality since they have full control and the person is in no way limited to the dream, they can do what they like within it.

I like to think that it would start to become a way of sending messages to people. Say, for example, for someone’s birthday you gave them a little dream bottle of some kind, and it makes them dream of a happy memory they once had with you, and at the end of it the dream tells them ‘Happy Birthday’. Perhaps someone is feeling down, so you do pass over a happy dream to them. Perhaps someone needs to revise, so they put all of their notes into a dream so that they can revise from in there.

It would create a new form of media for the world, instead of books or movies, you could add dreams onto that list. Picture walking down the aisles of a shop, with thousands of tiny bottles all labelled with different kinds of dreams. Even being able to walk around a shop like that and glance at every label would inspire anyone. To prevent everyone from constantly being asleep, though, there should be a way of making the time within the dream last longer than time in real life. Not only would this allow for people to dream more, but it lets people live an even longer life in their dreams along as whilst awake.

Thanks for reading

: : Ruby ❤ : :

Arctic Hearts

The young boy, of about sixteen, was wearing a white graphic shirt, with a panda on the front, though it had started to fade and crack from their overuse and fondness of this shirt. It was crushed into their torn black jeans only at the front, and it loosely hung from the back, forced against their back due to the grey deformed Mi backpack being strung onto their back also. The gel in the boy’s blackened dense hair forced the front to ramp upwards, and left the rest of it to be untreated.

He walked up the buzzing high street, and confronted their friend. She cheekily waved at him, then started to rush from the wall they were leaning on and went to hug him. The girl’s arms wrapped around the entirety of the boy’s torso and the bag, though the boy’s arms were positioned perfectly outwards from his body, and a gaping smile on his face. The girl didn’t want to question this about the boy, though upon backing up she had no choice to. The boy was frozen in position, out of place from the rushing crowds roaring around them both. His eyes were closed, as though caught when blinking, and their arms continued to seem inviting to the girl. The boy stayed like this for years, frozen in this spot and this position.

The boy stayed like this for years, frozen in this spot and this position. After it was realised that nothing could be done to help the boy, he was more turned into an exhibition piece on that street. It was immoral to move the boy, as he had once done this before, and he eventually broke out of his trance. Everyone hoped that he would someday be free from it again. The girl, for the first few months, went to visit the boy every chance they could. They always brought two bottles of Pepsi Max with them, just in case he came to. He never did… Not for a while.

When he came to, the story spread itself across every page of every newspaper. After being lovingly reunited with his family, the boy went to see the girl they were originally planning to meet. It took a lot of his strength to knock on her door. It took even more strength to walk away once he realised that she had moved on. It had been over a decade after all…

Later that year, the man walked up the same high street, though this time he was wearing a black shirt, neatly tucked in behind a solid belt, holding up their light yet faded blue jeans. Their wallet was noticeably forced into their back pocket, causing an awkward indent, along with a modern watch on their left arm. A woman soon after walked up to him, and they greeted and laughed with one another. Following the trends of his boyish charm, the man held out a small batch of flowers for the woman to take. When she started to reach for them, the man started to become worried, as anyone would on showing their first act of love towards someone, and continued to hold them out steadily. The woman took them with both hands, thrusting them towards her nose and letting the fumes engulf her mind with joy. The man continued to hold out his hands…

It didn’t get as much attention this time. Even the previous time, people had little care for him, besides for the groups of people online forming conspiracies. Besides the rarity of finding a story online with them being symbolic for love, everyone started to mock him. Swarms of photoshop images spreading across the internet of the man holding different items. No matter how hard he tried, he could not love without this happening to him. He just froze for years once more…

When he came to, his family reunited with him again, even though they saw him every week where he was being kept in a hospital, having to stand in the position they originally froze in. It was a sad sight, though his family always reuniting with him with the same enthusiasm as the last times.

Though the world wanted the gentleman to give up chasing love, he couldn’t give up. He felt selfish, wanting to try again in case something changed. Twice more it happened, and two more women slipped through his grasp. The time he was frozen for seemed random, some lasting over a decade, others lasting just a couple, though each tortured him the same.

The gentleman, he had recently reached 60. This time was going to be his last try, and then he would give up with love for the rest of his days. He had lost contact with his family, given that they would always try and persuade him to stop trying. He couldn’t stop, and a small part of him knew that this wasn’t actually going to be his last try should it not work.

Once again, he strolled up the high street wearing a tattered and torn brown waistcoat, a chain in his pocket dangling loosely in front of him due to the angle in which his back declined. He was the most cautious he had ever been when she showed up. The lady was of a similar age to the man, though unlike the others did not recognise him from the papers. She allowed the man to put his arm around her, in order to take her jacket off. He never even managed to fully take her jacket off…

Not for seven years anyway, where they both unfroze together. They stood next to each other, both looking at one another in amazement. For the first time, he smiled after escaping the trance. The man replaced the jacket on her shoulders once more, and they examined the hospital room in which they were both standing together in.

Outside of the hospital, they continued to walk with one another until they eventually reached the restaurant in which they had originally booked. He was able to take her coat off, pull out her chair, and live the remainder of his life happily with her. He had beaten life’s game.