We're Miserable Now

When we are in kindergarten we are happy. We laugh and run around, covered in piss and shit and whatever, but we still giggle because guess what? It doesn't matter. We eat and smother the food all over our cute little chubby faces.

Then someone teaches us about the world, and we become miserable.

We're lectured about child labour in third world countries; Bangladesh, India, China. Or ridiculous pay of 9c an hour in these same countries, or in Africa, perhaps. "Don't buy these products, buy authentic products made here in the USA/Netherlands/or any other first world country," they say.

But these products cost ten times more.

And those of us who can't afford this, have to go against our principles of opposing child labour and unfair pay, because we have to eat too.
Our hypocrisy makes us miserable.

Nobody gets to choose who their parents are. Yet, we are obligated to love them. Don't love me? You're grounded. Or we are judged if we legitimately don't like our parents. If they were not your parents, would you love them? I love mine, but if they were not my parent's, could I? No, I would think they are shallow, stupid and harsh.

But I have to love them.

They all tell us love is amazing and great, and they all tell us men are bastards and women are selfish cunts. How can we love bastards and bitches? And why does it hurt so much when they stop loving you?
Why call them bastards and cunts when theyve just hurt you?

Not to mention all the bad people. We have to teach you about the bad people in the world, the world is not a great place.
And then you complain that we are immature. Why grow up when the world out there is evil and cruel?

We became miserable when you taught us about the world.

Let's do something differently

This is a more of a "let me tell you my problems since I have no one else to tell" post. You probably should not read on due to excessive amounts of whining and just general stupidity.

Hey, how are you?
Yeah good, good you know. School's going pretty good and my relationship is amazing! And you?
(This is where I think, well, I don't want to rain on their parade).
Yeah, fine as well, thanks.

How about, no? I'm not going to say I'm not okay, I'm perfectly okay. I'm just not good, and sometimes I wish someone could see that. And someone does.
Are you okay?
Yeah, yeah.
You sure?
Yeah, of course.
How about, no? When did it become unacceptable in my mind to not be okay? Why can't I just say "Hey, my name is Kristiina Heikura and this is what's bothering me: ..."

Of course, that's due to me not having good enough friends to do that. I love my friends. I have my chatter box girl friends, and I have my more friend-like friendships with people who know who they are, and I have my 3 very close friends... in Australia, Egypt, and South Africa. So I guess it's safe to say I don't really talk to any one about anything serious. Especially to my boyfriend- when is it an acceptable time to admit you might have more issues than they think?

Are you okay?
Umn... I guess so.
You guess so?
Well, not completely. But mostly yeah.
What's wrong?
Well... (I say well when I need to think of how to phrase what I want to say) how can I say this? I don't choose this, and I don't want this, but I don't think I have much chance of recovery right now. My parents haven't spoken to me since I got back from Paris, or well sorry I lie I lie, I do that sometimes and I'm sorry, my dad spoke to me, he was nice to me, until their love rekindled and now they're two little love birdies in love again. I'm not the type of person to be bitter about someone being back together, unless it's bad for all parties involved and trust me, this time they should be able to choose, or at least want this.
Why have a family with people you hate? Or at least strongly dislike. I have heard nothing but yelling and screaming and shouting and criticizing since I came back, when I actually hear something. Bring the buckets by the dozens because I think this might catch ablaze. This is going back to a place I don't like, back to some other time, with another person, to somewhere I don't visit and I don't think back to. Now it's inevitable though, because this is exactly where it is going. I would spill it, and tell you of that monster who spent four years with us, but let's be honest- you're not really that interested.
I have no one to tell this to.
I can't say, "Hey, I think my step-mum might be turning into a Päivi. I'm scared and I don't know what to do, since I don't speak to my dad and he wouldn't listen to me anyway."
I don't want to tell people I know, in case they don't listen, or in case they forget.

There's more to it, kids, but I'm pretty closed up when it comes to really personal things, and that's all that I can get through this door.
And now I'm done.

I promise I'll be back to normal posts in a few days.

coffee shop mistake

Today my parents were in town, and whenever they're in town they go and have a cup of coffee. However, being new to the country and lacking the osmotic mind of a curious and immoral teenager, they had no idea that a coffee shop is not a coffee shop, but is more like a marijuana cafe.
So there's my parents, stepping into a coffee shop, thinking it really is a coffee shop, and stumbling out with bitter expressions, commenting in disgust at the despicable habits of these people. Druggies! All of them, crack'eads! (I don't think they know the difference between pot and crack..).Well, at least they don't do it on the streets, they conclude. If only they knew.
They come home, telling me this amusing story and I ask what the name of the coffee shop is (by mistake, I didn't realise what I'd asked until 2 seconds after), but luckily they'd forgotten, and didn't find my question out of place.
Yeah, if only they knew.

I thought it was pretty funny though.