The story about the wings.

Okay,

back to changing up what I was saying hahaha

I think that for the MOST part, I'm not insane. But with the whole manipulation weird evil shit I got goin', that's definitely not a "leo" thing. That's just an evil insane person thing.

So yeah, I'm sick in the head but not as much as other people think I am.


That's all I really have to say for this post so let me use this as an opportunity to tell you a story I think I forgot to mention about this previous Wednesday night out...

So it's Wednesday, wing Wednesday in college town party place western Canada. My smart, not so intense friend, A, invites me out for wings and I obviously say yes. Because, since breaking my 10 year vegetarian diet, wings and hotdogs are the only meat I enjoy LOL

I say yes ALSO because the place we normally go to has Caesars on special and I've just discovered that I AM OBSESSED WITH THEM.

She asks, and I agree.

THEN, ohhhh ho ho, THEN she asks if she can bring her friend J along.

Since I've already said yes I have to allow it or else I'm a bitch LOL obviously. So I say it's fine and get ready to go.

I should mention that I actually know J. She was pledging in the sorority when I was and actually ended up as pledge princess hahaha I didn't really hang out with her much because she's quiet and super innocent and that's just not my jam.

ALSO, when I met her she was full-fledged anorexic; diagnosed and everything. She had never even had a period before in her life. Obviously I disliked her because she was skinnier than me but whatever, it didn't matter because I dropped out of school after a couple months meaning I also dropped out of the sorority. After that I only ever saw J at like one tiny party that A had.

TWO YEARS LATER, J is in recovery. She was also put on hormones recently and has had 2 periods; welcome to woman-hood J.

She's also obviously gained weight, a lot of weight.

Now, I'm all for recovery, like good for you, you can enjoy life now blahblahblah. But for me and my corrupted mind I was like, "Ha! Fat bitch."

If you're still dealing with your eating disorder you probably know this thought. You know that it's your evil ED voice talking and you know that it's mean to think but... it's true.

So seeing her obviously gives me a giant confident boost hahaha I was already feeling confident because I know I'm the most daring and loud of the bunch (meaning that I'm going to get a lot of the attention especially if we go out-out), but NOWWWW due to a divine miracle, I am now the skinniest.

I AM THE SKINNIEST, TALLEST, BLONDEST, AND HAVE THE LONGEST HAIR!

If A didn't have some of the most gorgeous eyes I have ever seen, I'd be the prettiest too; but I judged her and I as at least a tie in that category. I've got some pretty eyes too so yeah LOL

Walking down the street with my possy, seductively smoking and purposely smiling in a certain flirtatious way for those around me to see, I felt good. I felt great.

I had finally become the girl little Mint had always dreamt of, I had made it. When did this happen? How can I be who I've always dreamed of and still feel uncomfortable with how I look? God, I need to actually believe myself when I think I'm looking good, because now I think it's actually true.

We get to the place and order. I get extra-hot wings obviously (it raises the fuck out of your metabolism, hot sauce has close to zero calories, and the spice will make me eat slower), A gets honey heat, and J gets salt+pepper. We all get Caesars (mine without the rim) and the night officially begins!!

J eats all of her wings like incredibly fast, and then she finishes the last 4 wings A had left on her plate. I'm laughing at this sight non-stop in my head. I'm such a fucking bitch, I'm sorry...

Since I'm leading the conversation, had a huge 3 ounce Caesar before I even met up with the girls, and had 2 double Caesar's during the meal, I only ended up eating 4 out of 12 wings.

I think, "YAAAAAAAS" because we all know I'm going to carry these fuckers with me all night just so I can eat them before bed. I'm fucking stoked.

But as I'm shoving the box into my tiny purse J offers to put them in her own bag since it's bigger. I think that's super sweet and I hand over my prized procession.

After drinking 2 triple margaritas at my favourite Mexican bar we head to the strippers because A loves them lol

This is where I think drunk Mint made a mistake...

I told J she could throw out the wings if she was sick of carrying them. I think my exact words were, "Do whatever with them, I don't fucking care."

WELL OBVIOUSLY I DO CARE AND ANYONE ELSE WHO KNOWS ME WOULD BE LIKE, "LOL sure, yeah, okay Mint. Like you're not going to be dreaming of these bad boys as soon as we leave then club."

Right? RIGHT? B knows. Fuck she'd probably stop me right there to eat them just so she could stop carrying around my fucking doggy bags hahaha

Unfortunately though, I'm not with B. I'm with a very hungry, ex-anorexic.

Long story short, once we get home from the club we walk into A's apartment and I'm the last one in. I take my shoes off, not paying attention because I'm fighting with BB over text when I look up... to a horror of the ages.

They're going to put this in the history books I swear, fucking mass destruction is what this is.

I look up, excited about eating all the rest of my fucking wings. I can imagine the ranch dripping off those saucy bastards. I can even imagine the smell of the Frank's RedHot.

Wait a second... I do smell Frank's RedHot!

I look up, and shock is the only way I can describe it.

THIS ANOREXIC FUCKING BITCH, ATE ALL 8 OF MY WINGS.

I REPEAT: SHE ATE NOT 1, NOT 2, NOT 3 OR 4 BUT ALL EIGHT FUCKING WINGS.

IN THE TIME IT TOOK US TO WALK THROUGH THE DOOR AND TAKE OFF OUR SHOES, SHE ATE ALL MY FUCKING WINGS.

AND I'M NOT BEING DRAMATIC HERE, SHE ATE THAT FAST AT DINNER TOO. SHE DEVOURED THEM!

I was fucking livid. I could've fucking strangled her.

I was with two soft-partier friends, drunk with no drugs, no after party or drunk boys trying to pick me up... my fucking BOYFRIEND JUST FUCKING BROKE UP WITH ME, AND I MADE OUT WITH A DUDE THAT DIDN'T EVEN TOUCH MY GODDAMN FUCKING BUTT.

Like no, no; not okay man.

Even though I said she could do whatever with them, at least fucking ask if anyone would like some after a long boring night. Like fuck.

It's almost been a week and I'm still fucking mad hahaha but don't worry friends, I'm going with A for more wings on Wednesday and J is gone to do this year of uni in Europe, so my wings are safe friends :) my wings are safe...

♥︎,

Mint! 💋

More zodiac shit; sorry not sorry.

Okay.

I feel like ever since the, "this is why I'm a bad person" post I've been trying to like... re-explain myself. Trying to make what I had said seem different than how it was presented.

But now I'm thinking that I'm more developing the original ideas.

See, originally I was thinking that my need for attention, drama, and impulsivity was due to a mental illness, ie. BPD.

BUT, nowwww I'm thinking that's more of just who I am. Which makes sense because personality disorders are disorders to do with your personality; duh. I'm going even further with it though.

I'm talkin' sun signs people!

If you know me in person or have read my blog for awhile, you know that I'm alllll about that zodiac. Yes, it's not always accurate; yes, it's not scientific; but for me, in my life, the people I meet usually tend to fit their role.

I'm not going to try to convince you all about my beliefs with it (shoutout to the conversation I had with B's boyfriend about zodiac signs that lasted for what seemed to be FOREVER), but I am going to state my most recent thoughts.

I AM A LEO.

Hello! Yes, it is very nice to meet me.

If you read like any write-up about leos you'll read that we are insanely dramatic, passionate, and impulsive.

We attract attention wherever we go, and we love it. All the world's a stage and we're in the centre of it.

We're the most generous out of all the signs, and our excited energy is absorbed by everyone around us; we're a real fucking treat to be around, you're welcome.

Because of the previously listed attributes, we exude passion. With a fiery energy such as this, intuition and impulsivity come naturally.

So this is what I'm getting at. I think I'm not insane. I think that the people around me just don't know what the fuck I am. And because of this, I'm feeling like I'm being suffocated which is resulting in a very sporadic, frantic, and intense energy.

Lately, out of nowhere, I'll get incredibly anxious feeling. A type of anxiety that I've never really had before. It feels like I need to run, or produce something right away. I think it's my body's way of releasing this pent up "leo energy", since I'm repressing it so much.

EVERYONE IS TELLING ME THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME, THAT I'M NOT NORMAL, THAT I'M THINKING INCORRECTLY...

After awhile of person after person saying the same thing, it sort of puts a toll on a girl. It makes me start to believe that what they're saying is true.

Yet no one knows how to "fix" me.

I think I can't be fixed because I'm not broken.

We all know that if I'm feeling confident with my everyday life, if I'm producing work I'm generally passionate about, I'm not anxious or depressed at all.

So what I think is that I need to stop listening to everyone because they're wrong. I think I need to see a fucking psychic LOL

Because, I have all this frustrated leo energy in me that's not being channeled properly. Maybe they can look inside their crystal ball and tell me what's up. Tell me which path to pursue.

That's the real problem actually, I don't know what the fuck I want in life, so everything to me seems pointless. I read too that the leo is all about "identity". So until I find out who I am, I won't be able to progress. My last therapist told me that actually, probably the only good advice I got from her hahaha

I need to figure stop trying to please people. I need to accept myself and own it.

So yeah...

Those are my "today" thoughts.

I think that's why I'm craving getting into trouble; leo angst. I want to cause a scene, do stupid random shit, and do it without remorse.

Yup, I'm an adolescent lion.

- Mint.

Tic-Tok-Thyme 2.0: Ghosts and Guns

I had to change my URL after that last post... just incase.

I really don't want BB reading that, so even if for some fucked up reason he knew my old URL, he won't know this one... right?

This is the first time in the history of this blog that I have changed the URL. Which is a big deal. I only change my usernames for a reason; usually when a new chapter of my life begins, and this is no exception.

I no longer feel like the 17-year-old girl who started this blog, which is probably a good thing since I'm now 23.

Yes, I still feel like a ghost, going through life without living; forever waiting for nothing.

But now, I'm angry about it hahaha no longer a peaceful ghost minding their own business, no. I'm fucking haunting shit.

Plus, this is fairly close to the username I use for my personal accounts, so that's cool.

After yesterday's post, I feel pretty embarrassed to admitting to all of that. I understand why everyone tells me I have BPD, apparently I'm fucking manipulative as hell, and without a conscious. I'm just some sort of attention-craving whore. Weird, never realized it.

I watched Chicago this morning when I couldn't sleep and goddamn do I want to be Roxie Hart. Or just a jazzy cabaret singer, Lana Del Rey is my biggest idol. Someone mysterious, sexy, innocent, but bad.

Maybe if I stay single I could hit that persona up a bit better than how I try to do it now. Like in the clubs I mean. I want to get better at having all the attention on me, but also I don't want to bounce from stupid boy to stupid boy in a night and end up with nothing. I need to capture everyone, and then put most of my focus on one person, that'll end up better I think.

I'd definitely need to make sure I don't get in too deep either, because I'm bad at that. I get my feelings in there even though I don't really care about the person. I care whether or not they care about me. So I should stop that, because it's dumb and makes me sad.

I also need to somehow update my wardrobe. I'm obsessed with slip dresses, fishnets, stockings/garters, visible bralettes, moto boots, thigh-high boots, leather jackets, and a smokey eye. That's my FW '16/17 must-haves. Don't judge me.

BUT, if I don't stay single I'm going to go home and stay there forever. I want someone to own me really, and look after me. I don't know why but I want to live for someone. That's fucked up. I've been having a lot of weird thoughts like that lately. But yeah, it's a kink I've been dreaming about. Like Harley Quinn and the Joker in Suicide Squad; I'll do anything to make him happy. DON'T JUDGEEEEEE.

I'll go home, finish my bachelor online, work while getting my masters and start my own practice. Fuck if I'm ever going to have kids though. He wants kids, I say I'll have kids, I won't have kids. I'll just fucking lie if that's my life. Whatever.

The thing is, right now, I want to self-destruct. I want to do everything I'm not supposed to do. I'm craving trouble and drama. Because I don't fucking care. I hope I die, I'll probably kill myself soon, but if I don't die, I want to destroy everything. I want to express my fucked up mind, I want to show off my insanity, because I truly believe I'm insane now. I mean, my therapist quit on me, and everyone says people with BDP are basically sociopaths. So let's run with it.

Maybe I don't even mean any of this stuff. Maybe I'll change my mind about everything tomorrow, or in an hour, or next week. I hate not knowing if what I think is how I actually think or not. Oh well, let's see what happens.

Not being afraid of death is dangerous. Not caring what happens to you and your body is troubling. Spitting in the face of your own life isn't normal or desirable. But here I am, take me or leave me.

A self-corrupted mind, and chosen insanity.

This is ghosts and guns; lust and love.

Let's get fucked up.

- Mint.

This is why I'm a bad person.

I'm going to tell you all why I'm a terrible person, and why I deserve terrible things to happen to me; why I deserve to be without love; and why I deserve to be dead.

Well, maybe not to the extent of death but still, I long for it.

From the age of 5 to 13, I wanted to grow up to be a singer/actress. I wanted to be rich, famous, glamorous and sexy as fuck.

When my mom would curl my hair, I'd always get her to position one curl covering one of my eyes for a mysterious, Jessica Rabbit sort of look.

I'd wear feather boas; practice fainting sexily onto a couch; practice my model walk with one hand on my hip, two hands, no hands (variety is the spice of life).

I wore platform heels to school, and tied my shirt up in a knot during gym to show off my "hot bod".

I loved when boys would chase me on the playground trying to kiss me, I loved flirting with boys just so I'd have a higher number of admirers.

This was all going on from kindergarten up until grade two. Grade two is when I had to go to this catholic school where people made fun of me on the first day for literally everything. That's when I stop trying to stand out. That's when I was told that I was ugly and no one liked me and I was weird and annoying and stupid and UGH!!

High school was obviously no better. I never felt pretty or as if anyone liked me the entire time. Probably because my friends ingrained it into my head that I definitely, without a doubt, was ugly annoying and weird, just like everyone else had told me.

This one time when I was like 15 or something, this older, weird ginger dude had a mad crush on me and really wanted to be an item. I obviously said no because I didn't like him like that at ALL, but I remember my one "friend" H, making a huge deal about it. I know she wanted me to go out with him just so she could laugh.

She sent me a text saying, "You know you're not pretty or anything, no one else is going to ever ask you out. Plus he's nice so you should just say yes."

She actually said that. And I actually believed her, and I actually remained friends with her for at least another year.

Sidenote: she was always always a cunt to me. The day before 9th grade, she told all my other friends that I spread all these rumours about how they do drugs or some shit. AND THEY BELIEVED HER. Fuck I hate thinking about this shit still...

Anyway, all of this has made me never believe compliments given to me. To the point where I don't even hear them anymore. I hate myself so absolutely that I... well that I've scarred my body the way I have, and that I've starved it and stuffed it the way I have, that I've allowed people to treat me wrongly, and have agreed that I've deserved it.

Obviously this isn't what makes me a bad person. What makes me a bad person is that I forget that other people have feelings. I forget that sometimes, they need looking after; that they have insecurities; that they need reassurance; and that they don't know what I'm thinking, so they don't know how I truly feel about something unless I tell them.

I forget these things, and it makes me a bad friend. It makes me selfish, and it makes me a terrible person to trust and to love.

I automatically think that everyone hates me and thinks I'm the scum of the earth. SO, why would it matter if I dipped out on plans last minute? They're probably grateful that I bailed again.

Why would they take anything I say to heart? What's the point in opening up? In laying my heart out right there in plain sight? Why should I trust anyone. Why should I?

I'm a bad friend because I don't reply to people. I forget to ask them how they're doing and I forget to follow up. I forget that they feel. I forget their birthdays. I'm no fucking good.

I'm selfish in the sense that I ditch anyone and everyone I go out with. I end up self-destructing and making the night about me, and making them look after me. I'm selfish because if I don't have all eyes on me, then there's something wrong and it needs to be changed NOW.

I'm wrong because I'll purposely make a guy think I adore him just so I can get free premium drinks, but then go upstairs and make out with someone completely different. BUT THEN, while sitting in a circle with a bunch of people, notice another girl there and totally talk her out of the circle.

When I drink, I look for drama. I look to be the best person there. I look to be the one that everyone wants to listen to, and to admire.

I look for love, and then once I have it I like to make people jealous. I want people fighting over me.

When BB and I first got together I did this all the time. I'd sit close to other guys, put my feet up on their chairs, laugh at whatever the fuck they were saying, just to get a rise out of him. Which obviously worked and then I'd stupidly act like I didn't do a thing.

I even think that thing that happened last September was my fault. Because I knew who I was kissing, and I wanted him to want me that entire night. I got him to fucking break up with his girlfriend that night actually. And I fucking whispered his name right before we kissed.

I think I did it for validation actually. I wanted someone who hated me in high school regret the mean things they did, and I wanted them to admit that I wasn't ugly and annoying and weird like they once had thought. I wanted to be an object of fucking desire.

I want to be a girl of mystery and sadness. Someone people want to save. But at the same time, I want to be so confident and loud and sexy, that when I tell them about how sad I actually am, they feel important and special because I've chosen to tell them my intimate secrets.

At the same time, I do know I was definitely drugged that night. Because me going and having sex with some dude from high school while my boyfriend waited for me in the car isn't a limit to which I'd ever push something. And me not knowing where I was, and who I was with originally is all true, also I couldn't stop it once it started; and I did want it to stop.

I shouldn't be to blame, but I know I am.

Most times actually it was me who had pushed BB to flip out on me. I knew he was jealous if I paid too much attention to any guy. I definitely subtly flirted with all his friends. Because again, I love attention, I love being the only girl, I love people loving me.

So I'd eagerly await every word when they'd tell a story. I'd sit almost too close. I'd make sure their drinks were always full, they'd make sure they always had vodka, straws, and ice for me. I'd be so excited for hugs. I'd enchant them with my smile and laughter. I'd make them feel like they were the only person in the room with just my eye-contact. I'd make them all be on my side when my relationship was rough. They'd be the ones to save me. And I did it all on purpose. To make BB jealous.

Of course it worked and of course no one else saw what he saw. Of course he took it too far, of course I was a poor little girl who deserved better.

I always wanted him to push me or hit me or choke me. I don't know why. I just want to be hit. Maybe because I know I deserve it, but he's only ever slapped me 4 times.

I push him when we're fighting, and I get right up in his face, trying to think of what I can say to get him to hit me, but he's always maintained enough control to avoid it.

Even when he ripped through the doors, I kinda wanted it to happen. The first I wanted to see if he'd actually do it; the second to see if he'd really do it again.

I don't know why I'm like this, but I always pretend I'm in a movie. I do things on purpose to get a certain effect and it usually works. They follow my script for the most part.

I've even caught myself doing it with my mother. I could get away with anything if I wanted to. I'm not a fucking idiot. I just play things out a certain way to "accidentally" be caught.

I never thought of it as manipulation for some reason though. Maybe because I've convinced myself that this movie isn't something I created, it's just rolling... or maybe I give such little fucks that I do it for some sort of sick entertainment? I have no idea.

This is why I'm a terrible person.

And I don't know what to do about it. I don't know if I care enough about it, because I care about very little right now. Thoughts of suicide litter my mind. Life is dumb, life is pointless. I'd like to leave.

- Mint.