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| Goodbye, hyperish.
It's been 5 years of fun and memories and I don't have the heart to shut you down. Ever since I first made you as "hyperistic", lost the password, and recreated you as "hyperish", you've never let me down through all my emo moments and unhappy times. I'm sorry you never made it to version 100, but the time has finally come to say good-bye.
12/05/2002 - 8/31/2007 R.I.P. my xanga days.
With love from your creator, Jenny
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| And all we are is oh so far.
This feeling is new, and I'm feeling more uncomfortable than I'm supposed to. I hate it when I'm not in control of my emotions.
I've already fallen, and that makes everything all the more terrifying. I'm very disappointed in myself.
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| This is my first entry in the year 2007. I didn't think my xanga would die like this.
5 years, 98 versions/layouts, 208 subscriptions, 249 subscribers, thousands of eprops and comments, and an infinite number of memories. This is/was hyperish at xanga.com.
Over 6 months of inactivity.. it's really been a while. So today I remembered that I actually have a xanga, and I was sad. I didn't even hit my 100th layout mark. So close. Two more layouts and I could've done it, but I simply don't feel like doing it anymore. I'm not like what I used to be. Have I grown up?
I really love my xanga though, my time capsule.
I love looking back at my 7th grade entries and laughing at my kiddy self. I never realized how immature I used to be until now, and how I prided in my self that I always get at least 70 eprops per entry. Never again will my xanga return to its former glory. I used to think that popularity is measured by numbers, by the number of friends, eprops, comments, layouts, and connections you have. But I'm worth more than a number. SAT scores, class ranks, GPA.. these numbers can't determine someone's value as a person. I only wish my parents can grasp that.
I've come to realize that everything is temporary. In 10 days, I'll be a senior in high school, and in 376 days, graduating from MTHS. And then I have to say goodbye. Painful. Everything is temporary. Times of good and bad, pain and suffering, love and relationships, and our existence on this planet.. numbers won't mean anything then. The past 17 and a half years is the permanence of everything. Time just trucks on and is awfully inconsiderate of our efforts to stop or speed up or reverse it.
But what really bothers me is the fact that things are never the same, that I've gone through an infinite number of births and deaths and none of them are the same. Some of those lives are worth reliving, and some of them obviously aren't. It bothers me how time is so constant in its forward motion and those it affects are victims of irreversible change: the iron will of time and the contrasting transience of life.
Humanity can never be satisfied. It might be a good thing because it keeps everything dynamic and frustratingly surprising.
Damn, I've really changed. Amazing what 5 years can do to you.
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| I am incredibly furious. I'm so pissed, I'm eating my tears and every other thought that comes to mind begins with "Fuck." Fuckfuckfuckfuckyou. I would really love to go buy a pound of weed, do some crack and then shoot up some heroin. And then get piss-drunk wasted and have sex with strangers for cheap money. And then I'd throw my head back and laugh at my parents' misery, because all of this is their fault, and what I'm doing hurts them more. There are things much worse in life than a bad comment or a bad grade on a progress report. They don't seem to the difference between a parent who has his/her child's respect and a screaming banshee. Fuck you, Mom and Dad, you're doing me more harm than good. You guys don't know anything. Just hearing you two babble on about shit makes me fucking sick. | | |
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