the title says it all.
Krew and nijisanji memes and art
but this is basically a frickin mindap
gotta love here
the art I put here is by me and some I will credit if someone else makes it.
thank you for reading if you did
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Okay now you can...i think.
I type--alot.
When it comes to writing, my keyboard autocorrects my mistakes...wish that happened in real life.(sheesh. L Rizz. I'm currently learning a new language, physical connectiom, wanna learn it with me...I'm so out of it I apologize in the most YouTube way ever.)
I make a mistake--everyday, but the thing is... these mistakes have so much control over my self esteem.(awww.)
I say hi to almost every teacher or person, in the school, that I know of. But sometimes if they flip you off...or just don't say it back, I hold back a push to insanity.(quiet child vibes.)
The bathrooms are a great place for silent criers like me.(y/n, because Jesus it sounds like it.)
Even after the most softest insult coming my way, I would need to be excused. My bitch ass is that hurt by a guy who I see, everyday, teaching me mathematics, telling me that the earrings I wear are funeral earrings. Self note to take them off after all the people, who I presume classmates, began to to beckon laughs and giggles my direction. (Me when...me when I...school... chicken. Thank you for listening.)
I hold back tears, immediately ripping off the earrings that my mother had given me as a gift for my birthday. A pair I promised her I'd wear almost everyday, I felt... special. (Fuckin Y/N feelings, da fucc???)
Speaking of mom.(btw I wrote this instead of sleeping at 10pm in the night.)
"I can't eat this, Fifi." The plate she held before entering kitchen was thrown onto the counter. Absolute trash, I assumed.(how to start a fight and a Wattpad story.) You see, me, I can cook at a survival level, and I've been complimented for my apparently good cooking, by my friends. (I wrote a 7000 worded oneshot) Never my mom.(damn) All she would say was, "Thanks for dinner." Or "well done on your cooking." I would only be happy to enter school grounds, with a lunchbox--or two, when I have high hopes of things I made.( Just by hearing lunchbox, I thought of Melanie Martinez. Dude did y'all hear the album, Milk of the siren and Nymphology are my favorites.)
But this week, things have changed.
"You could have added some carrots, oh, and spinach, ya know!?" I stay silent. I can't complain, I mean if I did... Wouldn't I just be considered lazy?(Sadge, unpog, unbased and uncultured.)
I sat home ever since that Math teacher incident and have I even taken one ounce of work seriously? No. (Shit, you are lazy.) To be honest, I haven't even left my room as much as I usually do.( Depressive mood swings...I don't have depression, I would with them Math marks tho.) It would be stupid, yes, but it's better than ignoring my mom for years of slowly turning into a skeleton.( Why would you...oh.)
I wouldn't mind, but I guess she needs me. For chores. For babysitting my siblings. For making food. Keeping the house clean. For making food. For getting good grades. And being a good child who has everything under control.(These are all factual things edited by future me in brackets because I can.)
I need therapy.(you do.)
To a point where I have no words to ask my mom for therapy, she could make up so many excuses. "We have no money right now, maybe next week?" "You don't need therapy." "You're probably too young for it." "You can talk to me, Fifi." "I can't do that, so no." I don't ask her because she knows how I have to study and get good grades, but how am I supposed to do that if I can't even prioritize my lifestyle properly.( It's actually funny that these are things I complain about almost all the time.)
Am I a failure?
Yes.(definitely.)
Why?
Because your school marks don't show you can even produce a healthy lifestyle.( Maths isn't important) I'm in 11th grade and my marks aren't giving me an average amount of a good life. Or is it my choice in subjects.( I heard it's all about term 2&4 marks not the SBA or cycle tests.)
One thing for sure. I have a growing hatred fungus for maths growing on my back. (This is probably the last piece but I know imma get jumped by a bunch more in the future.) Ever since pre school, I've indulged my maths with flying remarks. I was happy as I grew with it. (Because the shits were easy a hell.) But of course, me being the oldest, my responsibilities matter more. From a beautiful 70 in grade 9 to a fucking 30 in 11th grade. (Liar...shit. It is true. I just saw my maths marks for grade 9 and I'm genuinely crying.)
"Fifi, if you continue to use the subject, you can do more then interior design, you can do accounting too. Soo much possiblities, all by doing the subject." A smart friend of mine says. Her 80s don't lie at all.(80s bitch, I need lessons with her.) And I wished I had them.(then make it happen, dumbo.) But if I had to be a failure to all who know me.(y/n vibes.)
Then I must as well stop acting.( Dramatic but sure ig.)
Stop acting happy, all of sudden, everyone worries.(truth is true.) But they can't stop the shit from taking place. NOOO!(bombastic sideeye.) I'm the dumbass who thought life was gonna go down a notch, it's my fault!!! (Criminal offensive sideeye.)
For being a fucking fool, to even having a life, for caring too much for people, to being careless to people's warnings, how my stupidity. (I'm a gift giver, but this is actually real life bullshit. Like bruv.)
I can't stand myself...(me too.)
a tool all can use for a game of give but never given. I would be lucky to have friends this year too. Like look at me. Oh, be a good person so everyone can like you. But some bitches will obviously disturb that place you fucking call peace. How to get it back is the priority. (L+ratio+you are part of the fuckin gen z community.)
I guess that's just life.(you need to leave.)
Oh yeah, the food my mom put on the counter. (Yeetus!!)
I mean, the rest would have been a waste in the fridge, so let's just say...(nice.)
The dogs got some extra goodies from their useless shit of a mom.(I am that useless shit of a mom. I'm kind of getting an idea of how I was dumb enough to ask for both dogs and siblings. I was NOT OKAY.)
Wait... please don't tell me you read this. (I HAD TO IM YOUR FUCKING FUTURE EDITER. I don't know about the guy who read this, other than me of course.