My blog, my life, my pregnancy. My loves, my hates. Me.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

A Rubbish Night For A Social Reject.

Have you ever been to a place that makes you feel a complete outcast? A place that makes you feel completely ugly and not good enough? In your heart you know that you're different, and different should be a good thing, but for that moment, that awful out-of-place moment, you just wanna be a clone of everybody else and lose that special individuality that you posess? Maybe you don't ever feel that. Maybe you're completely confident in yourself at all times and proud that people look at you and never get you mixed up with another person. I don't know.
Tonight, well, last night - it's 3.28a.m now - I went to this... thing. You know, they hold em in nightclubs, those events. Loadsa music and people. All the girls get dollied up and all the boys go there to take the girls home. That's my opinion of em anyway. It was held in a rock club, one that one of my friend's go to. A friend that dresses quite alternatively, has a funny odd personality and a music taste slightly similar to mine. I just assumed I could dress how I dressed when I went along to similar places with her. Like me. Baggy tops, an army jacket, (or a leather one depending on the mood), denim shorts, black tights and black boots. I was even considering wearing my big baggy jeans and black trainers, a khaki vest top, with a tie. I'm glad I didn't do that, I would've felt worse. Nobody wants somebody with an Avril inspired style when you have Barbie copycats. When we got there, I instantly felt low. Looking around, I was the only girl not wearing heels, not showing their arms, not showing their legs. I think I was probably the only one without a fake tan, hair extensions and false eyelashes too. Whilst, I know that once upon a time I've had a similar image to these girls, I know what kind of boys it attracts (and I wasn't looking to attract any boys, I had my boyfriend on my arm, a guy I'm happily loved up with)... I felt more than insecure looking down at what I was wearing. It's not the first time I've felt scruffy or poor this past month.
They were playing boom boom chav music. I can so dance to this kinda music when I'm drunk. Under 18's event = no alcohol to be served. Another downfall to the night. I'm not confident around hundreds of people my age that I've never met, and some that I've briefly known at some point that keep passing me by and tapping me on the shoulder and saying, "Pixie? Y'alright love?" or just glaring at me with a look of pure disgust because I shouldn't be there, it's not my thing. I need alcohol for confidence! It's a sad thing to say, but since the age of... twelve...(?) that's been the sad truth.
I wanted to go home. God, I wanted to go home so much. It was so busy - and I am so claustrophobic and retarded. I was in the loo almost having a panic attack because some really loud girls were smoking weed in there. I've smoked weed before, I still will if it's offered to me, and I've been a loud girl before (and still am if in the right circumstances). But when you're in a place like that... It's different innit? Anyway I think that was what scared me. Knowing what a bitch I was, how keen I was to start confrontation with anybody different to my group, knowing how I'd laugh at people and take the piss purely to boost my own ego. Knocking other people's confidence down to build up your own. Something I've been saying a lot lately, cos I've been seeing a lot of it, and remembering myself. I know what to expect, because I've been there.
I've lived that life and I don't see what's so special about it. Your morals are a load of messed up bollocks and guys just lap it up, because you let em. You flush your natural beauty down the toilet and replace it with plastic beauty, and all you know how to do is "have a laugh" and "get fucked" (and both meanings of getting fucked.)
But, all I know how to do is sit around waiting for life to happen and waiting for somebody else to make me motivated. All I know how to do is talk about my feelings because I know them oh too well, and wallow in my misery. That, I'm brilliant at.
I got my boyfriend to come home with me, even though he wanted to dance. I hated the sweaty ming mongs on the dance floor all sweaty and minging, they made me feel sick. And like if you entered their dance floor you got yelled at because apparently they didn't have enough room. I left, and I was gonna go see some people with him... But I just decided to go home. I feel low. I'm writing with character but I don't feel like I have any when I'm actually speaking. I think, I'm so drained of motivation, I don't actually want my character conveying through my words. I think it's such an easier ride to hide yourself and shut up. But, nobody reads this. So I'm cool.
He's been out with his friends for a bit, had a bit of trouble with the police. Anyway, he's coming here. He has his own key to get in. In fact I think he might be here now, cos I can hear creeping downstairs. I'll stop typing even though I wanted to google the word conveying, cos I dunno if it meant what I was trying to say.

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