The inside story

This WordPress.com site is the cat’s pajamas

A girly crush

Considering that I am still a teen girl, not a woman, as much as I’d hate to admit it, it isn’t that surprising I have a crush.
Now, when I crush on someone I crush hard. With a mention of a name, the glance at a picture my face flushes beetroot and I continuously get mocked about it.
When I think of this person, when I think of seeing him smile at me, when I imagine that he simply sees me or meets me, my heart pounds and I think I can swoon.
I am talking about Olympic champion Chad le Clos, as embarrassing as it is to admit.
Oh geez, I’m not that obsessed really, I just suppose it’s nice to truly get your feelings out in the open. It was a relief, I think for my mother to realise that I am a typical teen, not as, which everyone else thinks, an overly mature, eccentric and a budding einstein.
Oh, hello people to whom I recently shared this on my new twitter account! You may need to know a few facts about me before you want to read on.
~10 facts about me~
1. My name is Hannah Mitchell.
2. I love chillies.
3. I am part french.
4. I have curly hair.
5. I love writing.
6. I hate maths.
7. I am one fifth native american
8. I love to swim, I’m a water baby but I’m not very fast.
9. I am head girl at our school
10. I live in Springs, Gauteng, South Africa.
That should give you enough information to keep your knowledge of me pretty high. If you want, I’ll post a pic of me sometime.
So, back to my crush.
As we’re in Durbs for the next while I was really hoping I’d spot Chad around. But, alas, I did not/have not, and I am coping with it pretty badly in the sense I just really, with all my heart, want to meet him. As a writer and more of a poet I have a huge imagination, so I can be content (for a short time) with a made up meeting. I have been told my imagination is almost 10 times the amount of an average person. That’s one of the main things I treasure, one of my main differences.
Something I have not mentioned is my age. I would love to hear, in the comments, what age you really think I am.
So, until next time,
Hannah
xoxoxoxo

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Rebel? Oh yes, if you must.

So this morning, I was lying in bed (half asleep after a restless night) and the previous night I had left my very important laptop on the patio- a large area in my house, with big, unprotected windows. There was a big chance of someone breaking in and smashing one of the windows, taking my laptop. Love, Natalie and my 100 baby challenge would be gone forever.

So, obviously my mother was concerned, she had every right to be with the crime rates of South Africa. Let’s just say, you’re in the mall…and 10 people walk past. Chances are, 1, at least, of those people were born by rape. okay, that was completly off topic but you see what I mean.

So thius morning, her voice booms, “Hannah, take your computer off the patio.”

I lay in bed, wrapping myself in the duvet and tried to get back to sleep.

Then one word escaped my mouth, a very important word which gave me a very different feeling.

“No.”

Juging by the fact my backside isn’t red with marks, my mother did not hear the words coming out my mouth. All the better. I don’t know what it was, but those simple words gave me such a high, such a feeling of rebellion. Possibly because I can never be anything else but the girl who always listens to mommy.

Oh well. Nothing came of it.

Sorry to burden you with this, but for me, it’s the only way to calm down the swarm of bees in my head.

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Let’s pretend that my life is an open book.

A book.

A book with pages, each page read with such care and the plot planned out from when the Prolouge is written. Each mistake is written over, each little problem in the printing is never commented on. Somedays you can’t put the book down. Somedays you can’t turn another page, you’re so sick of the repetitive plot and the sickening characters.

Somedays, with a book, it inspires you to do something. It helps you make decision. That’s a self help book. A fiction book (of someone’s life) is always fake. Try to get some truth out it, it spits in your face. You can’t derive anything besides drivel out it.

Then you have the non-fiction books. These books will be completely real with you. Don’t expect any opinions, and if you find one, you’ll be so surprised that you are  completly  confused. In my case, many non-fiction books explain my life or my personality. But I can express a little love and opinions, believe it or not.

Very short, very stupid. But it’s an intro into me.

This blog is gonna be the cat’s pajamas, trust me.

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