I've still yet to accept the offers. Its shocking how 1 June is only less than 2 weeks ago and I remember thinking that I'd have months to consider this. This past month, I've been tormeted, by the sudden and inept switching of decisions; taking into consideration several opinions from family and some friends. Its sent me spiralling into mild depression for a while actually and I was so confused and stressed out and started cutting even more than usual. I couldn't turn to anyone, because they didn't understand. Or maybe it was because I had no one to turn to. It was an extremely tumultous and scary period in my life. Never have I had to make a decision that momentous before. The only person who had managed to keep me sane when I was cutting my arm was K. What with her 4am long messages and verbal berating and logical thinking.

K, if you're reading this. You're very much loved and appreciated for putting up with all my nonsense. Yogurt on me next time after HH on thursday. After you treat me for the last time I loaned you 5 bucks ^_^

Regardless, I've taken out my Spanish workbooks again to recapping all my verbs and vocabulary and simply just fell in love with the language all over again. I started looking at some basic French grammer, since many customers at Bakerzin happen to be French and it'll be nice to converse with them in basic French. Or rather, be able to understand them when I'm hovering nearby and listening to them jabber away in rapid French.

I got up close and personal with a pair of gray eyes today, and it was completly surreal. See, there's this pair of French businessmen who are regulars and come in for coffee, but I've never taken their orders before or served them in anyway. I'd put one at around 50 and the other at mid 30s, who happens to be rather good looking. So today I got the opportunity to take their order. And as I looked into the young guy's eyes, I was completly spellbound. Not because he was speaking in a French accent and ended up producing a somewhat contorted version of "single espresso", but because his eyes were just so...hypnotizing.

Its definetly not the sort of gray replicated in contact lenses. These were light gray. Very soft, as though someone had lightly shaded his irisis, and lighly sprinkled specks across his pupils. I almost spilled his espresso when I came back with his coffee and he smiled at me and said "merci beaucoup" and I coyly replied "pas de probleme" and he went "ah you speak French, yes?", and I hastily replied, "un peu, monsieur." and scuttled away before he could jabber away in French. Honestly French sounds so...romantic. There's no other word to describe it.

I'll start learning it. Soon. But its tricky! Because of the pronunications!

I need a French friend.

For someone with no friends at all, my life is so boring. I want to go away.

2 more days. Oh god.

Oh and did I mentione I hate my brother? And basically my whole family unit in general. Call me snobby or ungrateful, but I really do hate my family unit. I've been growing up in a dysfunctional family unit. A dad whom I'm not close to at all because he spent 12 years of my life away in China, a sister who is basically a duttyhead whom I'd rather not talk to because she's in her own world, and a mother who spent, and still spends most of her time caring for an equally dysfunctional brother, and ends up losing her daughter to being a self hating cutter, with no idea what she's been doing with all those thumbtacks her my room. Neither do they notice the long scab marks on her elbow. Of course they can't see the scars on her abdomen, because its very well hidden.

But if you're wondering, its really painful, to cut the skin of your abodmen with a thumtack, because the skin is relatively thin.

My midsection is dotted with brown scabs. Yippee.

Actually, I'm really curious to know what my parents' reactions will be like when they find out I cut. Okay. Scratch that. I know what they'll do. They'll send me to a psychiatrist, like they did with my sister, instead of trying to settle the problem with me by themselves first. Sort of like getting to understand their daughter now and do what they can do help her without resorting to medical means. Yeah, my parents will just ship me of to some crackpot counsellor and when the find out the reasons I've been cutting, my mother will get even more mad and call me useless and worthless.

My mother doesn't deserve a hug. I regret giving her one last week. Don't fucking judge me for that because you're not me.

Sod. I'm going to watch the pilot episode of Hawaii 5-0.