I'd grieve the special dirty things that we used to talk about.

When I went to bed last night at ten thirty, I was quite exhausted. I fell asleep sometime after eleven. Later, I awoke around one o'clock. After much tossing and turning and a late night snack, I fell asleep while the hour neared five. Promptly at six o'clock, eyelids flew open. All I could think was 'I fucking hate that man'. My father had just left for work and the sound of the truck had roused me from my sleep.

Stitch up my emptiness cause you're the death of me.

We started quite a fun project in art today. We're making mini busts of people. Originially, it was supposed to be of someone famous from American history, but none of us really like that idea. Since O'Neal knows that we're more inclined to enjoy the project and attempt to do well if we like it, I am now doing a bust of Hitsugi from Nightmare.

This is my inspiration. Beauty at a finest.

That's a face I don't mind filling an entire screen with.

Adored by me throughout; Oh no it's you again.