err0r-of-lif3 - Tumblr blog

[err0r-of-lif3]

Update he's dating someone else and I have him blocked.

First blog entry! Will try have a consistent recounting style and sense of authorial voice but be patient with me while I find those :)

《 》

*What are doing doing this afternoon?*

That's the text I received yesterday at around 10 am. From Him.

Now, let me begin by saying I already knew he was asking because he wanted to hang out but for want of not seeming arrogant and also because of the fact he has cancelled on me the last 3 weeks, I pretended I have no clue why he's asking.

*Want to hang out?* Of course I did, he has me wrapped around his finger. On the other hand? Gotta play it cool. I think an "uhhhh sure ig" was nonchalant enough tbh...

When I finally got to his school, I was in fact all of 2 hours early (way to play it cool) but I didn't tell him that. Instead I walked through the park and sat watching the ducks play in the water. Some kids and their grandparents watched from the other side of the pond. This is where my good mood starts, with cold stone against my thighs, and warm sun illuminating my face.

God I love the hugs we exchange after we havent seen eachother in a while. My hands rising across his shoulders, my hands getting lost in the grown out undercut he wears. His arms falling around my waist, landing in the small of my back. I love it. We fit together like a puzzle. We tried to find something to do, walking through the shopping centre closest to find something interesting. It didn't work so we got on the train and started our journey to his house.

After our train ride we get on a bus and my favourite part of being in vehicles with him is being able to feel him against me the entire time. Our sides sewn together. Also beating the shit out of him when I see a yellow car (he got a really good shot at my leg holy fuck).

Another thing I love is teasing him when I know for a fact I'll lose. He knows I know too. That's why, when he tells me he needs to piss, our eyes meet (how romantic). My hand is I m m e d I a t e l y in the soft of his side. Pressing and prodding trying to find his bladder. His hand is immediately on mine, holding tightly and twisting trying to get my arm away before I find it and make him piss himself. This repeats several times as we walk from the bus stop to his house.

That is until he finds his waterbottle a worthy weapon. Spraying water in my directing to keep me at a respectful distance (he ran out pretty quickly). His desperate attempts to unlock his front door were also hilarious as he was cornered and I could poke and prod all I want.

We took turns watching eachothers shows. His eyes shining and following along as I rushingly explain the character arc of every single character in desperate housewives. He brings his arm up and moves it side to side making a clicking noise to imitate a metronome, something he thinks I need to pace my speech. (Idk tho).

"....so how long have you had your peircings for?"

We are halfway through an episode of DH.

'Two weeks today, why' "no reason......"

A beat passed between us.

"and how long was it until you could touch them?" 'Uhhh two weeks I think, yeah'

Another beat passes and I look back to the TV and then he fucking grabs my chin gently and tilts my face towards him and makes out with me.

The rizz.

Astonishing tbh

Anyway, you can guess what happened after that so I will skip that and tell you that falling asleep in his arms after a month was fucking amazing. Loved it. Love him. 10/10

Okay I don't wannt proof read this, I wanna write about today so I'll post this to satiate Alia and Rizzler and then I'll start writing today's entry :))

[err0r-of-lif3]

Fuck love tbh literally it's so shit fuck shit bitch

[err0r-of-lif3]

BAHAHAH BAHAHAHAHA HAHAHA HA

[err0r-of-lif3]

And I put you first. I always put you first. I am bleeding on the fucking bathroom floor and all I want to know is if you had a good day.

Did you have a good day?

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In the moments between thoughts, I'm thinking of you.

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I love, too much, when we are together long enough that I walk away baring your scent.

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I am constantly thinking of you. Even my dreams portray my endless pining

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I have 15 more days of year 11.

Something abiut first days is odd.

Especially when they're just the first day of a new term.

I hate people.

I love people.

I want to sleep.

Goodnight.

[err0r-of-lif3]

My entry for today is to tell you guys that I got lost in the bush for an hour with no cell service.

Here are some photos.

[err0r-of-lif3]

I wonder if you dream about me the way I do you

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I know you love me, because when I turn my back to you, your hands find their way into my hair.

[err0r-of-lif3]

Autobiography chapter 2 :0

On My Own

The first time my parents kicked me out, I couldn’t have been more than 6 or 7. I had done something wrong or my siblings had done something wrong and had blamed it on me and I had been placed against the wall.

Being sat in front of a wall was a common punishment growing up. We were always told to pick a corner, find a wall, or toe to table (where we stood or sat with our toes touching the dining room table without moving). In this specific story I chose the wall directly in front of the staircase. This positioning meant that my parents had a direct and complete view of me from their position on the couch which meant if I, as children so often do, decided to mutter under my breath- they heard and saw every word.

I remember my step dad accusing me of lying about committing whatever heinous crime I was in trouble for and when I whiningly called a retort of “I am nooooooot!” I was met with a gruff angry “Thats bullsh*t”. Before I could catch myself I found myself replying “It’s not bullsh*t”.

Silence.

My voice had dwindled on the last word realising what I was saying and how much more trouble I was about to be in. I had whipped my head back around to face the wall and so all I could do was listen as my mum got up and stalked towards me. I knew my fate was either the imprints of a spoon or belt on the back of my legs, or the spicy taste of hand soap sliding around in my mouth.

I did not want either.

As her hand clasped around my arm, I fought with all my might to stay sitting. I screamed and begged and pleaded and reasoned that I hadn’t meant to say it but it was no use. I was dragged through the house until eventually I thrashed enough that she lost her grip. I ran backwards. She stared at me. Her face contorted with rage. My face felt puffy from crying and I could feel bile rising in the back of my throat, as I always could if I cried too hard.

She stepped forward.

I stepped back.

She didn’t like that. She took another step forward and I scrambled to put more distance between us but it didn’t work. She grabbed me again and started dragging me away. This time in the opposite direction. Towards the front door. I was too focused on trying to pry my aching arm from her grasp to take much notice of the front door opening but as the cold wind hit my face my breath hitched. This was new. She opened the flyscreen door and held it for me. I stood there. She waited. I took too long and she muttered a single word. “Out”. I didn’t understand what she meant so I didn’t move a muscle. “Get. Out.” That time it clicked, I stepped out of the door and watched as she let it swing shut in front of me. I heard the lock click and I was stunned.

I stood there waiting. Nothing happened.

I waited a little longer. Still nothing. The tears started again.

I decided to walk to the telephone pole at the end of our driveway and wait. I remember the feeling of the grass scratching at the underside of my legs. The way the sun shone over the red tile roof of our house and created golden slices throughout the sky. I heard the door open again and then shut moments later followed by silence.

Time passed, what felt like an hour but was more likely only minutes, and I stood up. My legs felt itchy from the grass. In my mind I could faintly remember the way to my friend's house. The only adult who wasn’t a stranger who I knew exactly where they lived. I started off down the street. I walked and walked until I finally came to the front door of my friend’s house.

I debated turning around. Being homeless and living a life of crime to survive. It made me shudder. I sat there for ages trying to muster up the courage to ring the doorbell until I finally did. I waited. I started to turn around, tears welling in my eyes again until I heard the door unlock and there framed In the light of her hallway was Mrs Friends Mum. My hero.

Her long brown hair glowed in the afternoon sun. She looked confused, her eyebrows knitted together. I could tell she was looking around for an adult. My mum. My step dad even. She asked me where they were and I explained what had happened, she let me inside. I ran up the stairs to my friends room, stopping at the bay window at the top of the staircase. I could see the roof of my house from there. The carpet felt soft under my bare feet and I could tell my friend wasn’t expecting me.

We played together for a while. Eventually Mrs Friends Mum came up and asked us if we wanted to bake. We did. We went back down the stairs where their kitchen island was laid out with ingredients for a premade cake mix. We helped get out the bowls and their fancy measuring sets. I remember watching my friend and her mum work together, the way their eyes lit up looking at each other. My friend had chestnut brown ringlets that cascaded down her shoulders. I was always jealous of them. They matched her dads.

We put the cake tin into the oven and Mrs Friends Mum picked us up and sat us on the kitchen bench. The marble felt cold and we locked eyes as her mum turned back around to wipe down the kitchen island. The doorbell rang. Mrs Friends Mum’s eyes flicked to me. She looked guilty. Or maybe pitying. I didn’t know why. She left the kitchen and we watched as she reached the door and her hand fell on the handle. As she twisted it my gut twisted the same way. She stepped away from the door to reveal my mum.

I remember panic flushing through my body. I had nowhere to go. I was too scared to jump from the counter. Knowing that if I did, I might land wrong and have lightning bolts of pain shoot from the balls of my feet up my legs. I froze. My mum walked towards me and placed her hands under my arms, picking me up and placing me back on the floor. I felt myself shrink. Looking up I watched as she and Mrs Friends Mum laughed and said adult things I didn’t quite understand. The entire time mum's hand was fastened around mine, squeezing so tight I thought my bones would break.

Eventually they laughed one more time and we were led to the door, we stepped outside and I made eye contact with Mrs Friends Mum. I tried to telepathically communicate with her. Don't let her take me. Please don’t let her take me. She understood. I could see it. But she couldn’t do anything.

I’m not sure why this story stuck with me. Maybe because later on my sole punishment would be getting kicked out (I would have lived in over 7 different houses from 2020 to 2021), and this is my earliest encounter with the experience. Maybe that’s when I realised not all adults are superhuman. They can’t save you every time.

[err0r-of-lif3]

Autobiography chapters :)

Food Thief

I developed an ability to stand up for myself at a very young age. Living with two parents and a brother who all had bipolar, I was rarely listened to and my opinions weren’t heard unless they were screamed. I don’t remember a time where I didn’t stand up for myself but I do remember the first time I did to someone I was expected to blindly respect - a teacher.

I was in pre-primary at the time and so I would’ve been three or four during this story. I was small, freckled, and the “weird” kid. That apparently meant I didn’t have any friends in the class. I remember one day we were writing recounts and I wrote the day of the week in block letters just like the little card in front of me with the days written on it. The teacher had walked over and scolded me for not following the task and everyone got out of their chair to gawk at what I had done wrong. That is not the story though. My story is of said teacher, with her red-brown ringlets and her scowl that never left her face and her affinity for muesli bars, sandwiches and on the odd occasion, yoghurts.

When you enter school age you are taught to respect your teachers. What they say goes kind of thing and so I blindly listened to everything this teacher told me to do. And unfortunately that included giving her my lunch. Now, normally the whole stealing your lunch dilemma is performed by an older kid and the teacher ends up stopping them and you live happily ever after but when it’s a teacher that's bullying? You kind of just assume that it’s normal and so when the gaggle of children in my class went out and sat on the grass for our lunch and she walked around inspecting our lunchboxes I just accepted the fact that something was wrong with mine.

“Ah!”, she exclaimed as I took my muesli bar out of my lunchbox, “Oh, I’m sorry but you can’t have that.”, she finished. She extended her hand to me with her eyebrows raised expectantly and my tiny little brain clicked that I was supposed to give her the bar. And so I did. The next day she did the same thing and the next she took my sandwich as well. By the end of the next week she had me trained to walk up to her with my lunchbox so that she could pick out what she wanted and leave me with anything she didn’t.

It was at this point that I was starting to go home hungry and in tears by the time dinner arrived and so when my mum finally asked why I was so hungry and I explained what was happening she gave me a series of choice words to use the next day and so I went to bed repeating the sentence like a monologue so that I wouldn't forget it.It later came to my attention that she hadn’t actually expected me to repeat what she had said and that the plan was to have a meeting with my teacher and the principal when she came to collect me the next day.

The next day at lunch I walked straight past my teacher and sat down on the grass which meant she came up to me and asked for my lunchbox to which four year old me replied with:

“My mum say that I came out of her [bleep] [bleep] not yours so whatever she [bleep] gives me for lunch, I get to [bleep] eat and you can go [bleep] get your own lunch”, (it doesn't take a genius to figure out what's bleeped.)

Now I’m not sure what exactly would be the most appropriate way to respond to a child if they said the same thing to me but all this teacher could do was stand back up and go back to her chair outside the class doors. She never took my food again and the next day she was greeted with the glorious task of nit checking our entire class because a kid called Joshua came into class with them falling off of his shoulders.

Over the years, I have looked fondly over this memory as a reminder of my ability to stand up for myself despite it being unconventional. I thoroughly believe that respect should be given to everyone but can and can be revoked from those who abuse or disrespect that.

[err0r-of-lif3]

Small vent entry from my actual diary..

Its kind of confusing how you tell me you don't want to see me and you want to grow up but then when we are in the same physical vacinity as eachother, that goes out the window.

Not that i'm complaing.

Any time spent with you is time well spent but DUDE. Either you want me or you don't, y'know??

I'm glad you like the hoodie though. It was unbelievably expensive. I don't mind if it's for you though. It's just money.

You invited me to go to fucking Iceland the other day? What's that about? I don't know, I appreciate you involving me in stuff, I just wish I knew what the end goal for you was.

It would be easier to put up with all of this if I knew where you wanted us to go after. Instead of you just having the steering wheel the entire time. I feel like we are a modern day Lorelai Gilmore and Luke Danes. The constant back and forth, just to keep us interesting. I dont mind it too much. As long as it keeps you from getting bored. Is that unhealthy? Or is it just how love is? The willingness to sacrifice comfort for the one you love.

I think it works. Well enough. I mean, you're still here aren't you?

I like seeing yu in your element. It's cute. You're so focused and not to mention pretty, haha. I love you. A lot. More than most people think is reasonable. That's okay too though. When has anyone ever expected me to be reasonable? This overly dramatic, half dumb, mess, is what everyone knows me as. It;s who i am. I think I'm okay with that. If I can get the anxiety under control then I'll be goof. I can lose the anxiety and still be dramatic. That's the fun part to be honest.

I don't know...

I love you <3

[err0r-of-lif3]

Okay here's the entry for today :)

《 》

I think sitting with him and just listening to music by a pond was the most peaceful I've felt in ages. I love his company and how he seems to need to be touching me with something or other at every point (even if it means putting his stinky shoes on me).

He let me try his headphones on and jesus christ I need them the bass was so goodm I love music. The sound made me stim and he pulled up a fuxking family guy meme 🧍 he makes fun of me in such an endearing way it's pure happiness to be honest.

I was kind of sad that he didn't want to hang out for the rest of the day but he was tired and went to school when he didn't need to be at school so he just wanted to go home, which is fair enough. So I decided to go jetty jumping.

I haven't been jetty jumping in years...not since j lived with mum...and that was ages ago. I think the beach I went to is the one we said goodbye to Sunnee at. I remember watching the balloons sail into the sky like a giant yellow and pink cloud. Big fuck you to global warming I guess.

I love taking public transport, it's peaceful and I get to people watch. I like imagining what lives they're living and whether or not they're doing the same thing to other people. I like being by myself. I am my own best company, I like not having to worry about other people's opinions.

When I got to the jetty I picked one of the levels that you couldn't access just by the ramp, you had to climb down a ladder or two to reach it. This meant noone else was there, or would be there for a while. Just how I liked it. I stripped down to my underwear. Not even my bathers. Just my cotton underwear and old lace bra. And I didn't care. I put all my stuff into a pile under the ladder and mustered up the courage to jump.

Freezing.

My feet easily touch the sand floor and I pushed myself back to the surface of the water. Minnows dash around me. The water is crystal clear. I can see the bottom from every angle. The blue-green tinge making my heart jump. It's beautiful. I'm also fucking freezing.

I swam to the ladder, climbing up. I gasped as the wind bit at me. Laughing at how exhilarating it is. I dry my hands and update my friends :)

I jump more and more.

Ignoring the looks I get from people on the higher level. I am unstoppable. I am having fun. Today is my day. I checked my phone again in time to watch it go fucking flat 😓

I dried myself with my flanno and put my stupid fucking jorts on (I fucking hate jorts and I hate that I own them I'm gonna sob). I gathered my things and went to the bus stop to check when the next bus back to Freo is. Not for another 20 minutes. Fuck.

I went to the beach Cafe and asked to charge my phone but they were closing, so I walked across the road to the beach hotel. As soon as I walk in I feel underdressed but the barstaff greeted me with the biggest smiles.

They agreed to charge my phone and took my charger with them behind the bar. I sat down at a small table and waited.

My eyes searched the building. One room was a farmers shop, with home made jams with beeswax toppers instead of lids. Another room had paintings, small price tags printed to the bottom corner. Through a doorway I could see the dining room to the resteraunt.

It was beautiful.

Golden lighting, candlelit tables, a giant tree with branches stretching across the roof. The cherry on top? The open kitchen wall, where even though I was on the other side of the building, I could see the goings-on of the staff. I watch one chop vegetables and another shake a pan that goes up in flames and goes out again in a split second. I'm gazing around in wonder as a bartender walks up to me and asks if I want a water.

These staff are dressed in elegance reimagined. Their hair is gelled back. Their posture impeccable. I am wearing a muscle tank, jorts and my Connie's.

I say yes.

He comes back with a tall glass, water, ice and lime slice all floating within. It tastes fucking amazing. I feel like I'm in a movie.

I finish the water and asked for my phone, he thanks me for coming and I walk back out into reality. Still reeling. This day can't get any better.

I took the bus back to freo and walked the main street until I came to my favourite book store. I know what kind of book I want. A romance, preferably whirlwind. But the way I choose books is whatever jumps out at me. The book I buy actually falls on me.

I am actively trying to romanticise my day now, thinking about how good of a tumblr post each activity will be. And then I hunger for fresh fruit.

I spend half an hour looking for a grocer to no avail. I get gelato instead. I sit and eat it at a picnic bench listening to the music of the shop I bought it from. The sun kissing the back of my neck. I am elated.

I finally decide to go to therapy, I'm 10 minutes early so I sit and begin reading my book. It's interesting. It gives me the idea to use a clothes peg as a hair clip. I like it. My therapist finally opens the door for me to come in and we exchange pleasantries before I tell her about my day.

We spend the session talking about [ redacted ]

Anyway.

I finish with my therapist and catch the last of the afternoon sunlight as I walk back to the trainstation to go home. I love it. I am content.

Romanticising my life is my favourite.

ANYWAY please find attached photos I took today! The ohotos of the resteraunt I grabbed off of google but look! It's so pretty :(

[err0r-of-lif3]

First blog entry! Will try have a consistent recounting style and sense of authorial voice but be patient with me while I find those :)

《 》

*What are doing doing this afternoon?*

That's the text I received yesterday at around 10 am. From Him.

Now, let me begin by saying I already knew he was asking because he wanted to hang out but for want of not seeming arrogant and also because of the fact he has cancelled on me the last 3 weeks, I pretended I have no clue why he's asking.

*Want to hang out?* Of course I did, he has me wrapped around his finger. On the other hand? Gotta play it cool. I think an "uhhhh sure ig" was nonchalant enough tbh...

When I finally got to his school, I was in fact all of 2 hours early (way to play it cool) but I didn't tell him that. Instead I walked through the park and sat watching the ducks play in the water. Some kids and their grandparents watched from the other side of the pond. This is where my good mood starts, with cold stone against my thighs, and warm sun illuminating my face.

God I love the hugs we exchange after we havent seen eachother in a while. My hands rising across his shoulders, my hands getting lost in the grown out undercut he wears. His arms falling around my waist, landing in the small of my back. I love it. We fit together like a puzzle. We tried to find something to do, walking through the shopping centre closest to find something interesting. It didn't work so we got on the train and started our journey to his house.

After our train ride we get on a bus and my favourite part of being in vehicles with him is being able to feel him against me the entire time. Our sides sewn together. Also beating the shit out of him when I see a yellow car (he got a really good shot at my leg holy fuck).

Another thing I love is teasing him when I know for a fact I'll lose. He knows I know too. That's why, when he tells me he needs to piss, our eyes meet (how romantic). My hand is I m m e d I a t e l y in the soft of his side. Pressing and prodding trying to find his bladder. His hand is immediately on mine, holding tightly and twisting trying to get my arm away before I find it and make him piss himself. This repeats several times as we walk from the bus stop to his house.

That is until he finds his waterbottle a worthy weapon. Spraying water in my directing to keep me at a respectful distance (he ran out pretty quickly). His desperate attempts to unlock his front door were also hilarious as he was cornered and I could poke and prod all I want.

We took turns watching eachothers shows. His eyes shining and following along as I rushingly explain the character arc of every single character in desperate housewives. He brings his arm up and moves it side to side making a clicking noise to imitate a metronome, something he thinks I need to pace my speech. (Idk tho).

"....so how long have you had your peircings for?"

We are halfway through an episode of DH.

'Two weeks today, why' "no reason......"

A beat passed between us.

"and how long was it until you could touch them?" 'Uhhh two weeks I think, yeah'

Another beat passes and I look back to the TV and then he fucking grabs my chin gently and tilts my face towards him and makes out with me.

The rizz.

Astonishing tbh

Anyway, you can guess what happened after that so I will skip that and tell you that falling asleep in his arms after a month was fucking amazing. Loved it. Love him. 10/10

Okay I don't wannt proof read this, I wanna write about today so I'll post this to satiate Alia and Rizzler and then I'll start writing today's entry :))

[err0r-of-lif3]

I think the act of blogging will positively affect my outlook on life. The act of recounting things I encounter that have an impact on me in a setting outside of therapy sounds interesting.