Cupcakes.

For years i've lived with the thought that i'm shit at baking, or using the stove in general. It wasn't until more recently that I sat down and decided to try making cupcakes.

The first time, I called Natasha because I wasn't confident.

The second, Natasha came over, and did most of the baking, though I had a blast decorating.

The third time, I did it completely alone, and it was comforting.

The fourth, it was euphoric...oddly artistically freeing and calming and exhilarating... but mostly therapeutic.

It is said that we bake to relieve stress, which I thought to be a myth for years, but the smell of vanilla cupcakes rising, and the colours of icing swirling together in intricate patterns with sprinkles adorning the top, while quiet music blurs into the background, has convinced me that this tale is true.

Cupcakes have brought a silent joy to my day... a smile to my face and made me feel significantly more accomplished.

Oddly enough, I am now living with this thought that I excel at baking.... or at least cupcake decorating...

I am not shit at baking.

Doubt.

Lately I've been doubting myself a lot and I realize that this is the exact same problem I had when I was younger.

Doubting my intelligence, talent, beauty... friendships.

Just doubting everything.

I didn't get into all the second year programs I applied to, more importantly, I didn't get into the ones I was meant to get into (according to my parents and sister).
I doubt I'll ever be something they want me to be.

My cosplays don't get nearly as much recognition as they should... well, at least that's what I first think. Then I think, 'maybe I don't deserve the attention. Maybe I'm just a shit costumer'...
I doubt i'm as talented in the eyes of others as I claim to be.

Beauty.... I fight to convince myself daily that my body is beautiful and I am deserving of my pageant crowns and sashes... but maybe I'm not. Maybe i'm fooling myself with make-up and lighting and well angled selfies.
Maybe i'm not so beautiful.

And my best friend. My beautiful best friend who would probably hit me for this.. but I will always, in the back of my mind think that I am not worthy of her. That i'm just annoying her, and that truly she tells other people that i'm a leach that has attached to her and won't let go. I fear when people ask her who her best friend is, that she says someone else's name, or worse, 'all my friends are my best friends!'....
I doubt her friendship, and I shouldn't, but I do, and I can't not.

Admittedly, I doubt my own being. I doubt what I can do. I doubt what I am. I doubt what I might be. I doubt those around me.
And this is why I'm fading again.

because i'm doubting my existence.

Adventures in infiltration.

I feel like I really shouldn't be mentioning any of this on the internet, but it's not like anyone (except maybe Clara) reads these.

I'm a bit of a creep.
You could even say stalker.

When I want someone who's popular online to be my internet friend... it happens.

Because I infiltrate their friendship circles.

At this point, i've done it 3 times successfully and i'm on my way to another.

I'm devious... and creepy as fuck.

but I get what I want.

Hurricane...

Welcome to the inner workings of my mind 
so dark and foul I can't disguise
can't disguise 
nights like this 
I become afraid 
of the darkness in my heart 
hurricane


I just feel like I can't catch a break from all of this.
November I drank...a lot... alcohol was my best friend... keeping me from the heart ache of having to watch a girl i'd fallen for ask someone else out.. and after we slept together too.. 
December I became unintentionally anorexic. I just wasn't hungry at all... I was ridiculously underweight, passing out and feeling dizzy.. 
Recently gained a safe amount back.. but now i feel like fat shit. Not that i'll do anything about it.
My father is making my life a hell with all this driving shit. I don't want to get my license... I never wanted to, my parents paid $900 for this shit when they knew I was scared to drive.. and now they're wondering why the fuck i'm wasting it.
School is shit, I want to change my major, but my sister who fucking runs my life won't allow it.

I'm failing school, work, my body, my parents, my sister....

I'm just a failure right now.

No one reads these.

I'm actually happy that no one reads these.
There is too much on my mind.
I'm angry and upset all the time, I don't even know where to start.
I'm single handedly ruining my own life and i'm sick of this shit.
I'm sick of everything, like I am every year at this point.
It's like happiness is just taken from me and i'm forced to live under this painful dark cloud.
I don't get a break from it, because it's just a constant pestering anger that stabs me.. i feel it in my stomach and my head.. I want to drink. A LOT.. until I don't feel it anymore...
but I don't think anything will make it all go away.
It's like I actually feel cold.
Frozen.
I just want to die.
No one reads these. i'm glad.

And so it begins...

I have, since graduation over a year ago, been dreading what is coming tomorrow morning.
University.

I'm not exactly sure if i'm excited, or scared, or stressed, or just hungry...
All I know is that I hate change.. I hate commitment.. and I absolutely hate people.

From the few mere HOURS I experienced from frosh week I can already safely say that I don't like it. Everyone is so full of school spirit and excitement.. and I just feel like i'm selling my soul.

Four years ahead of this university shit..
Then two more for my masters degree..

Fuck it all.

My view of the modelling industry.

Let’s start here.
1999.
I’m six years old and a child commercial model.
Also a runway model for the MATTEL Barbie clothing line.
Granted I didn’t have too much success.
Even as a six year old, I didn’t have ‘the right look.’
We gave up.

1999.
My sister is eleven.
She has much more success than I do.
Then she hits 12.
She’s ‘too short’ at 5’5”.
She’s dropped.

Nine years later.
2008.
My sister starts fashion photography.
I become her primary model.
It’s fun.
She gains popularity and connections from agencies.
And we meet models.
And we start to see through their eyes.
Not so fun.

Some of the models we know are absolutely content with their choice of lifestyle, but there are also quite a few who have lost the light that once shined in their piercing eyes. Some who are so broken and frail, not only in their demeanour but in their physical aspects as well. Some who have been victimized and scandalized by photographers and agents. Some, who complain and dread, but continue in hopes of their ‘big break’. And some who are so desensitized by it all that they do it because it’s all they know.

Modelling is glamourized to such an extent that young girls aspire, with all their spirit to become one of these dolled-up beauties on the cover of the popular magazines. Parents will say don’t dream of such grandeur or you would never make it… but how often do we hear them say the life of a model is stressful and heartbreaking, the world will continuously tell you you are not good enough and it could, and most likely will, kill you inside?

And that’s just it.
You will never be ‘the it girl’ in a market that changes everyday. In a world where small noses, thick eyebrows and large ears are popular one day, and the next, the exact opposite, it is only in high hopes that you will get work.

Hearing that you are not what the agency/agent/scout/booker/stylist/artist/photographer/director is looking for looking for, whether it be discreetly or bluntly becomes the norm.
Some girls can handle it.
Others break after so many cuts to their self esteem.

For privacy’s sake, I’ll call her ‘W’.
W is a friend, a model.
W was signed with a very popular modelling agency and was sent to work in Europe.
W, who is so uniquely beautiful and healthy was told that she needed to lose weight.
W decided that she needed to take control of her life, and she quit.
W is a strong and confident woman who I’m glad to call my friend.
But if she were any less confident, she could have been ripped apart.

Ultimately what I’m trying to say is that this industry is so hurtfully depressing.
It can be fun.
But it can also change you forever.

People ask me why I don’t take my modelling career further than it already is.
This is why.
Because I know my limitations. I know myself.

..And I know I would break..