Blogs about my life

TV and what have you.

I get altered, knocked, changed by what I watch, listen and read. Even the dumbest of things, a silly teen romance, or an episode of teen titans. But it’s also by heard music that can be heard again and again, films which beg me to show to my friends, to be spread. To have it’s lingering affect on me dispersed, so that someone else can maybe understand me too. It’s my cry for help.


Jane Doe.

Consistent betrayal of the acceptance of reality, is my heads cycle. 


Blogs about my life


I felt different last night. Adventurous. In the moment. Care free. 

Until morning came round, and I realised that I wasn’t important. That I’m not important. 

I don’t regret it though, it was fun, it was an experience, it was my first. I’m glad it was my first in a way, glad that it didn’t feel awkward or wrong. I’m glad it happened. 

Now all I have to try to do is make it the real first. 

Challenge commence. 

Jane Doe. 

Blogs about my life

Old me, new me, whatever

I’ve been looking through some of my draft posts on here, and my ‘posts’ that have never even made it onto the computer, tucked away in a book on my shelf, thoughts I hadn’t felt brave enough or ready to share.

I came across one that said this:

Sometimes I forget that I’m just a

And it stops, nothing more after that. No title. No premature tags. Nothing to let me know of what I was going to say. I have an idea though.

It’s odd looking at old things I’ve written in my books, old things I’ve written and posted, and old things I’ve written for school. It’s almost like a snippet of a past me, that I get to look back on, that I otherwise wouldn’t be able to see.

It’s interesting.

and I’m not sure if I like it.

What do you sometimes forget you are?

Jane Doe.

Blogs about my life


Every now and then, the urge comes upon me to start smoking. I don’t though, I don’t want to ruin my lungs. 

But the act of smoking is what appeals to me, putting the killing thing between your lips (yes that was stolen from TFIOS by John Green), but it’s true for me too. 

People who smoke, well some at least, to me, look contemplative. They make me want to know about them, know what they’re thinking about, what they’re keeping from the world to feel the need to hide behind a cigarette. Why did they decide to make the decision to have a hobby which ultimately ruins themselves. Is it similar to adrenaline junkies, jumping out of planes, off cliffs, no safety nets?

To know that you’re the one holding the power, and you’re choosing to hold it, light it, and inhale. 

Maybe, for me, possibly, the act of inhaling danger, and exhaling something else is what appeals. 

Jane Doe. 

Blogs about my life

Lost in techonology

Master procrastinator – me. 

But I usually never let it get too far. I’ll make sure all is done, and then I’m stress free for another night. Not a moment ago I jotted down a list. A list of what had to be done. This list has now ruined me. 

I feel behind, stuck in a ditch, and I’m not sure how to get out. 

I’ve lost all motivation to work. And yet have all the motivation to watch absolutely anything on TV, or to simply rotate between different social networks without change occurring on any of them. 

Please could someone help me get back on track. 

Jane Doe

Blogs about my life

Not so patiently waiting to live

You can have a lot, but still feel alone, worthless, empty. 

I’m making the biggest decision of my life so far, today. And I can’t help but think about everything that’s built up to this moment. I haven’t really brought anything, I haven’t experienced anything. I’ll have no great stories to tell of this time.

But I shouldn’t think that all is lost. I have 5 or so months left to leave here with experiences. I just know that they won’t be coming, because school work is immense and stressful, and I seem to be the only one wanting to live some more. 

I hope things happen before this chapter is closed. Good or bad, because no matter which way it goes, it’ll at least mean that I lived a little. 

Not so patiently waiting to live. 

Jane Doe. 


Blogs about my life


It’s not that I feel the need to have a boyfriend, it’s just the fact that I’ve never come close. 

My best friend, for the 3 years I’ve known her, has never been single, not that she’s promiscuous, but she just goes from serious relationship to serious relationship. And in all those years, I’ve had no one. 

It makes me question myself, and think that perhaps there’s something wrong with me. That I’m broken. It makes me feel unnoticed, and unliked.

It makes me feel alone. 

I feel like I’m missing out on a massive part of growing up. And sure people say when it happens it happens, but I can’t help but notice how much it greatly isn’t happening. And that everyone has all these stories, and I have none, and even if I tried to have some, it wouldn’t happen. I’m just never liked back. I’m obviously doing something wrong, not pretty enough, not funny enough, not flirty enough. I wish I had moved to another school for my last years of school, so that I could have been surrounded by new people and see if anything would change. 

I just feel shit. 

Jane Doe. 

Blogs about my life

time stood still/feeling alone isn’t great.

For a moment, I thought you saw me too. That you looked at me for a reason. 

Every now and then I forget that I’m just me.  

Each day I think we get closer, until I realise you don’t actually notice. 

Listen, please don’t go though. 

In having you near, it’s enough. 

Never mind that you don’t look for me in the crowd. 

Get out, get out of my mind. Please. 


A person without a point.

Lemons without limes. 

Orang-utans without oranges. 

Nutella without nuts. 

Entrances without exits. 







Grab my arm. 

Reach for my face. 

Express what you can’t.

And then,

Time stood still. 

Blogs about my life

Body suit

It’s a great wave of emptiness that has decided to crash upon me once again. 

I thought I’d got over this blackness, this nothingness. But it’s back, and I’m feeling emptier then ever. It all seemed good, I was happy to some extent. Well, happier then before. And now once again, I’m just falling. 

Never ending falling. 

No ground to stop me. 

No one to catch me. 

Nothing to look at either. 

Just a gut wrenching feeling, like those when going downhill on a roller coaster, forever present. 


I’m walking around, motionless, in a body suit. 


Jane Doe.