Deep crimson pools of hatred for myself. Vermillion waterfalls, giant, loud, screaming the hateful passion. Scarlett tears stain lines of dark anger down my face. But I smile, you dont know that I am sad. You dont know that these images of blood tinted abhorrence reign supreme in my mind. You think I am a happy girl. A normal, average, typical, balanced, child. I guess you dont think that great. You think I am an ordinary, usual, commonplace kind of kid. You may even think I am somewhat attractive and witty, maybe even talented and well-liked. You lie. Nothing has proved that I am special, no one has treated me special, save one or two people. Why should I beleive that I am talented, witty, well-liked, or even attractive? You havent shown to me that you felt that way. All you have shown to me is that I am average. Thanks people. Oh and feathered one, dont follow me in my self-destructive ways of blasphemy and frustration. It is no fun. The ugly ducklings always turn into swans. Remember you feathery thing. My dad noticed the faint scars on my arms, he asked what they where from. I said "the cat". He believed me. Went to drumline today, got home at 12:45. I read Queen of the Damned for 2 hours, then my mom came home with a paper lantern for me. I set up the paper lantern in my room, and went to library. Watched a DVD, and now I am typing letters to a vast net of electric energy. Hello net. I hope you dont think I am too weird, I hope you like me. Solitary figure under the yellow street lamp. Desolate one wandering the night time streets. Forlorn thing looking for happiness. Godforsaken child looking for truth. Obscure imitation of a life. Isolated person sitting on a cold bench. Deserted, and waiting... I dreamt of him last night. I kissed him for the first time in a long time. I didnt know that I was dreaming. He held me and whispered that he didnt want me to go. He kissed my neck, collar bone, upper chest. I didnt want to leave. I was happy. I woke up. I cried. She told me that she loved me. She said that she wanted to be with me again. She leaves for England soon. She wont be back for a few weeks. She said that she would send me letters. I miss her already. He wrote me a letter in french. We used to be together, now he just a friend. He is the only one that would do something like that, to cheer me up and give me something to do. Two years ago, I had a rat that I had to put to sleep. She was nice. I was sad. He held me and I cryed into his chest. He helped me dig her grave. Pathetic of me, to be so attatched to a rodent, but he was nice. She wrote me a letter, cant find any stamps though. You will be getting a letter from me soon enough my duck. Wanting to die. Not wanting to feel. This is my life at its finest. Arms and legs hurt again, marched for two hours yesterday. I would say that I sweat like a pig, but pigs dont sweat. Funny how we compare ourselves to animals. We are animals, carnal instinct is what society feeds on these days. If I was an animal, I would say that I was... I dont know. What animal would I be? Nothing left to say, goodbye. In the name of malevolent blood