Love.

Love is a feeling everyone wants. Everyone needs. It doesn't even have to be a feeling, really. Now, I'm not neccesarily talking about the type of love that soppy singers write about, and teenagers angst about. The type of love I'm talking about is the human sentimentality. The need to spread love, to feel love, to be loved, to kill love. A psychologist, Harry Harlow, studied "The Nature of Love" in which he described his findings on comfort deprivation in Rhesus monkeys. He said:
"... Contact comfort was an important basic affectional or love variable.. Insuring frequent and intimate body contact of the infant with the mother"
This implies that to feel loved, the monkey needed a hug, pretty much. The monkey needed to feel that someone loved it. It needed the tender touch of a loving mother. Well, don't we all? Many people who snap don't have anyone to love, to lose. We all ache for a loving touch sometimes. It doesn't have to be from a lover, quite often we just want a hug from a family member. I often find myself aching for someone to hug me, to comfort me, to whisper in my ear "It's all going to be okay." Especially when sick. This, I'm not sure what causes it. I'd love to know. I'd love to grab a mind and pick it apart, finding out exactly what makes someone tick.

More specifically, the mind of a criminal. Oh dear God, I'd love to be given the honour to be called in to inspect a dead body, find out how it died, and deduce from the wounds inflicted on the body what type of criminal we're looking for. The mind of a criminal is a truly wonderful thing, their view on "right" and "wrong" may not always be different, but their view on the world, on people, is.

Oh God, I'm going all creepy now.
Ahem, I shalt depart before I start revealing odd things.
Goodbye, Space Cadets!

Ah. Sorry.

I haven't posted in a while, sorry about that. For once, I don't have a planned topic that I need to rant about or anything. I've been needing to write and I've just written.
Man, I feel epic.
I've been having troubles recently, quite a few. So I've been a bit withdrawn. This was supposed to be something I could post in regularly.
Oops.

*Knock* *Knock* Hello? Ranty posts? Mind if I destroy your stream of ranting with some happiness? Hm?

Happiness was a bit of an exaggeration, just an almost-normal post, I suppose. I've decided to stop posting all this depressing crap, because quite frankly, it's depressing. Instead, I want to bring up a whole load of topics, make a huge blog post. About whatever, anything to keep my mind working. As... I am feeling brain-dead. Oh dear.

So, first topic is my English Assessment. For English we have to say a speech, unfortunately for me I forgot my speech before I had to say it to everyone. So I spent three minutes bluffing my way through from things I remembered at the back of my head. Apparantally, I was amazing and convincing. Which I'm quite happy about because my self-esteem isn't the best. However, I didn't do the best and wasn't chosen to go to the so-called 'finals'... Which means my level isn't boosted higher. In fact, my English teacher lowered my English level for no apparent reason. Which is really making me panic. I know I shouldn't panic, but these lowered level means less of a chance of a scholarship to the university I eventually want to go to. I mean, a scholarship is very unlikely, but now it's even more unlikely. I'm not a gifted child, I'm an absolute idiot, and what with my parent's state of money... A scholarship is the only way I'll get into university. So this is something I need to get, otherwise... Well... No university, I guess. This assessment I'm panicking about? It's a written assessment, all from the top of my head. That's not good. You don't just write assessments from the top of your head and pass unless you're bloody epic. I've done so before, but... This is different... It's actually... A topic I feel strongly about, I should have done something... Anything...

The second is friends. I've posted about friends before and this isn't too different. Remember that post I made, I said "Friends rarely ever are forever"? Well, guess who's been proved right? Me. My friend who I shan't name, I shall post him as Bob. My friend Bob, I have known for as long as I can remember, he's my oldest friend, and we were as close as... Two close things. Suddenly, he took the chance he had to be popular, and so he completely forgot about me and my friend, and he became b*tchy to us, rude and joining in with the bullies. He then was nice to us, and b*tchy straight after. I know I've lost him as a friend, but we seem to be keeping up this small charade that we're still close and we're still friends. It just hurts me. I don't like that, I don't like hurting over friends... I don't like panicking about losing one of the closest people to me. So I don't talk about it.

The third is anger. Anger is one of my many issues, the one feeling I can't control in front of people. Usually at school I keep up this pokerface, a layer of... Non-emotion I guess, cold nothingness. My features are rather sharp, so it usually looks like I'm silently fuming. Which I guess I am. When people make fun of me and stuff, I can hold back the tears, I can hold back the fear and hurt. I can stop that from showing. But it's the anger, the pure rage and spite mixing together to form an emotion I can't explain, but it's like a tornado ripping through me, making me want to scream as loud as I can and curse, using all the swears I know to insult the kid teasing me, smash all the objects I can see, harm everyone I see. I feel an almost irresistable urge to grab the sharpest thing I see and plunge it into the kid's stupid face, to see the blood rushing from them and hear their screams, to bloody make them feel pain. It's an almost irresistable urge. Which I hold back, but that doesn't stop me growling, or snapping at them, the main thing that holds me back is guilt. I just can't bring myself to do it, I know I'm perfectly capable, I have the anger. It scares me, knowing that I'm actually a potential danger. Because my anger is so hard to control, that I'd love to harm loads of people, like something else takes over. Yet, I know I'd feel terrible afterwards, and I can't bear the thought...

The fourth is writing. These story I've been planning and stuff? I've lost the will to carry on, I can't stop thinking about how... Rubbish it is. I have no gifts, I'm not talented, or exceptional, so what's the point in trying? Trying and being pathetic? Like I am.

The fifth just happens to be illnesses. My so-called illnesses are getting worse, blood-test is out of the question, but... I've been kind of... Showing symptoms...
Of certain things.
*Sigh*

The sixth is comic books. I was reading a few comic books, and I've realised how... Rubbish... Some comics that have been published are.
*Glares at X-Men*
Some comics just feature a bunch of underdeveloped, overpowered Mary-Sues who mess around in historic events. Three. Big. No-nos.

Well, this turned into a rant, didn't it?
Heh.
Well, had to be let out somewhere I guess.
If you read this far, then if I ever meet you I will hug you very tightly and give you a sugar-free lollipop.
:3

I hate my school.

Okay, stupid blog title, I know. Loads of kids hate their school. Well, I'm no different. Thing is, most of the kids hate their school because of the fact that they have to get up early and they dislike the teachers, so on, so forth.
I would love my school, if the teachers were actually good at teaching and... Certain people didn't go to my school, I would adore it, probably ACTUALLY wake up eager to go, not all fretty and depressed.

The only reason I hate school is because of the bullying. I'm not the only child with this problem, there are loads of kids who are bullied. I'm just too weak to put up with it quietly.
The teachers bully the students, and the students bully each other. It's like... A bloody jungle, I guess. I hate that I'm just sitting there, minding my own business and someone decides to bug me.
"Oh, you're reading?"
I ignore them, hoping they'll leave. When they suddenly start teasing me, calling me a sl*t, sk*t, Harriet Potter, Soapy Water, and one boy even shoved his empty crisp packet down my jacket and said, "Oh sorry, I have to put my rubbish in the bin."

Somehow, out of all I've been through, it's this small thing that I've let get to me. This stupid kid messing around with me that made me take a bath as soon as I got home so I didn't have to face my Mum and talk to her, so I didn't have to face anywhere. I stayed in the bathroom for hours, crying my eyes out. I shouldn't let it get to me, but it did. My parents don't know I get bullied, I don't plan on telling them, either. Because they'll over-react. Like they do. They'll tell me to fight back.
I can't.

I honestly want to believe I can just lie low and ignore everyone. But they just bug me, they mess with me and they make me come home feeling like I belong in a sewer.
Which I don't.
I'm not going to let this ruin me. I'm not going to just give up because of some people who hate me. F**k them. I am who I am, I can't help that, I'm not going to bloody change to fit in to society. So... I'm just going to put up with it I guess. Talking to them makes it worse, ignoring them makes them try and hit me. So, I'm going to do the... I guess, 'hard' thing, and just sit back and take it. Hmph.

Hm.

V for Vendetta. I'm watching it and fangirling <_<
Moving on...
So, writing. I want to write, but don't have a clue WHAT to write, apparantally I'm really good at saying inspirational shiz... So... Why can't I inspire myself? Odd.
Someone once asked how to make a child do something they don't want to do, I replied; "Say it's a game of Simon Says."
I have rubbish ideas, huh?
Well...
Dear God I'm uninspired >.<

I need to rant...
I will.

My panic attacks are back, I used to have them when I was a little kid, pretty badly, I was always fretty and I stuttered badly. I thought I was over that, but apparantally not. They're coming back. I'm not too peeved off by it, because I'm used to them, but I terrify myself and that's what I dislike, how I'm suddenly becoming a wimp and bursting into tears over stupid things. I don't cry. Period. I'm not built to cry, I'm built to get by.
LOL RHYME.
I am, though. I'm built to slide on through and keep myself together, not to burst into tears when I hear someone call me "Harriet Potter". I've been through this stuff all my life, the teasing, the laughing. And I'm used to it, I shouldn't be so worked up, and I should be over these stupid panic attacks.
LOL I TYPED THAT ALL WITHOUT LOOKING AT THE KEYBOARD AND ACTUALLY WATCHING THE TV.
Ahem.
Well, I'd be ranting a lot if I carry on. Sorry.
So...
Well, this is an end to the blog post I guess.
Sorry about that.
Sorry.
I...
Yeah...

School.

Well, I'm at my Mum's, which means I'm on a huge computer instead of a laptop, and that I'll have to sleep early. It also means that I feel like I'm being watched, and just as I typed that Mum looked over my shoulder o.o
Ahem. It's school tommorow, which means I'm panicky. I don't know why, but I just get panicky and jumpy and stuttery, for a few days my stutter'll get worse until I have to be quiet for a long while, building up the confidence to say something. before speaking VERY quietly. I'll screech and hide at the simplist things and it'll be SO easy for me to burst into tears.
Like Furby.
...

Uh, Furby didn't belong in that sentence... Anyway...At least Ilia might be coming down to visit me soon? I can't wait, I suppose I'll have to ask my parents... They might not be keen on that. Anyway...
Well, that's pretty much it. I've just been panicky about this, unable to actually clear my mind...
The bullies... Oh God, this is going to be rough few weeks. The teachers...
Ugh. I give up.

So...

Character development is fun. Oh lord it's fun, I love torturing characters to the point that you've just labelled yourself as a sadist. When I was younger I wanted to be a torturer... Then I found out that's illegal... Dream-crushing moment that was.
A young Narfi bounding down the stairs, bouncy ginger-hair blinding and making you think 'WOAH! THE ORANGENESS! WHEN DID IT GET HERE?" and the fact that my hair was so short making you think I was a boy. I looked like a boy, still do.
I turned to my mother, holding up another unfortunate teddy-victim. "One day this'll be a real person, ya get me?"
Mother simply sighed... "No Narfi, that's illegal."
I had dropped the teddy. The crushing feeling in my heart I could never forget, realising I would never give anyone a Chelsea Smile, that I'd never shove some poor unfortunate git on a Catherine's Wheel. Knowing I'd never shove anyone in an Iron Maiden, I'd never put someone on a Judas Cradle, never shove someone in a Brazen Bull, no Spanish-Tickler, no Garotte. I'd never even do foot-roasting or Flaggelation...
If you're squeamish, I recommend not trying to learn what those torture methods are.

So, with the slow realisation that I'd never do this. I took out my ruined childhood on my characters. And boy it is fun. It's fun pulling characters to the brink of being killed-off, and deciding "Oh crap, I still need them..."
I think... One or two of the people reading this'll know what character I'm torturing. I can't be blamed, I hate her. Oh my God, I freaking hate her! Why I created her I don't know, but I don't have the heart to kill her off, so I'll torture her.

Moving on, so I seem like less of a sadist... Hm... I wonder if souls have colours... If so... Oh my God, that'd be epic! Souls with colours! I mean, everyone see's the soul as silvery and wispy... Mostly in the form of their vessel, but I suppose, that a soul would seem more animal-like, the animal that the vessel is most like, and it wouldn't be silvery, it'd have a colour, depending on the person.
I wonder what animal and what colour my soul would be O.O

Well...
I've run out of things to say...
...
Awkward...