Information

Katy Miller
Legacy Name: Katy Miller

The Common Ruffie
Owner: Lily7013

Age: 12 years, 3 weeks

Born: April 5th, 2012

Adopted: 12 years, 3 weeks ago

Adopted: April 5th, 2012

Statistics

• Level: 3
   
• Strength: 10
   
• Defense: 10
   
• Speed: 10
   
• Health: 10
   
• HP: 10/10
   
• Intelligence: 1
   
• Books Read: 0
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Stock Worker

Journals have been removed. :( so now, here's my journal, Katy Milller, my pet :)


Sorry it looks so weird, i have to code all of it to take in the spaces . . . urrrrrrrrrg. i wqill be slowly fizing it, since it'll take a whiel . . .sorry


Thought Think Hate
Mood: Thinking
Listening: Thinking

they hate me
did you know about this?
they don't listen
who cares?
i cry at night
no one hears
i don't want to make a fuss
no one wants to hear it
i'm alone
i'm right here
you're not helpful
you are not alone, that's it. do you need someone better?
i don't like you.
don't need to be picky.
i'll sit here. rot slowly away
go ahead
go away
you'll be alone
better than to be with you
you're rotting slowly, remember?
then let me die in peace
i'd rather stab
i will to get it over with
you're insane
you're mean
i never claimed to be nice
why am i having this conversation?
you're lonely.
so i chose you to talk to?
apparently.
then explain to me what i am doing.
being annoying
maybe i'm depressed
you most definitely are.
so what are you going to do?
watch you
i need help
then get some
what good are you?
i'm not
who are you?
yourself
why am i talking to myself?
because you're depressed and lonely and apparently insane
apparently
we are the same voice
you're much worse then i am
not my fault
you're my voice
sound familiar?
why don't you help me?
why don't you help yourself?
i hate you
you hate yourself
what do i do?
i only know what you know
talking can solve problems if you review facts you know
then you should be very smart now
what am i supposed to do?
die
i hate you
you can't avoid it
i don't need to make myself die
do you want to?
i'd never
but do you want to?
stop it
what do you feel right now?
annoyance
how come?
i am forced to talk to you
you don't need to speak
i'll respond if you do
and i am you
death is always a horrible option
the worst
you know that there are worse things that death
so do you
where are we?
some would say your subcontious.
i hate it in here
your head
i hate you
you hate yourself then
maybe i do.
maybe you do
but i don't.
good for you.
what do i do now?
congratulate yourself on that lesson
i really hate you
i don't hate you
that means nothing to me
i know it does
do you care about me?
i am you
but do you?
do you care about yourself?
no one cares about me
you're someone, aren't you?
apparently not
apparently
i don't know what to do now.
neither do i.
are you out of mean comments?
they hold the truth
then we'll just sit here. in my subcontious?
sure, why not?
i will close my eyes
okay
and relax
that's nice
and i won't wake up
yes, you go do that
try to stop me
from taking a nap?
you're an idiot
i'm you
we're idiots. for having this conversation. with myself.
you've finally come to your senses.
i told you people can solve problems by repeating facts.
you still have a problem.
you
and i have you
goodnight.


Thinking of Title right nowMood: i want to write and think Listening: IncantationsWhat was that place, again? you know, that place you go when you fall asleep? when everything is fine when you don't want to wake up? you're here, you're safe . . . . . no, really. tell me. i want to know. i've never been there. but how do you know you have even been there? that's right. you don't. you wake up and suddenly everything is "normal" again. what if it was the other way around? that this was really the dream world, and the world that you go to at night was real? then would i have ever been to the real world? just living in a dream? that would explain a lot. certainly. some of you would call me suicidal. some of you would call me mad. the rest of you are reading this and thinking 'where exatly is she going with this?' thank you. so glad you care. excuse me, i have to leave now and cry. ok, i am back. and i have an apple. i don't even like apples. so why am i holding one? why is this relevant to the story? you're not being very nice. i don't like you. and i don't even know you. how does that make you feel? well, maybe i wanted to do something with that apple! maybe i was going to eat it! (i would never do that.) well, guess what? *tosses apple at computer* take that! i really don't like you. you just made me throw an apple at my computer! i hate this. not sure what i hate excactly, but i really do hate it, loathe it. look what you made me do, this post is horrible. it really is. i hate it too. do you understand why people call me suicidal? or emo. or stupid. or annoying. or i have isues. i don't. i really don't. just because i am like this doesn't mean i have issuses. that's not very nice to stay that. so stop it. stop being mean. do you like apples? dreams are weird. you wake up and again you're in the "real" world. or you forget your dreams. i hate forgetting things. it irks me. you just can't remember it. what if something, something really big was secretly missing form your life, and you couldn't remember it? like, is it possible that you could really like apples? no. i just don't. ok? stay off the topic. i don't like apples. it's not fair. i hate forgetting things. but it's ok if i don't remember liking apples. perfectly ok. what are you thinking right now? 'this girl is a freak. she just keeps rambling on about how she dislikes apples. and forgetting things. you did make the conscious choice to read this. and it's your choice to listen to my disliking of apples. i didn't really damage the screen, you know, when i chucked that apple at it. i hurt the apple more than the screen. it has a big bruise. take that, apple. it's right behind me. to the left of me. and bruised. poor apple. i don't feel like talking about my neglected, disgusting apple. just so you know, the only reason i had an apple was because you were mean to me and i left. it just so happened i returned with an apple. dreams are so odd. i wish i was i a dream. pretty sure i'm not. pretty vivid dream, then. maybe i'll go to sleep. forever. . . . oh my gosh. you were right. i am suicidal. thank you for helping me realize. now help me not be suicidal? i've never really had any problems with being suicidal, i guess. until i noticed it now. i hate using that word. suicidal. suicide. stupid. it's all just so stupid. why would anybody commit suicide? you have to commit it to actually do it. you can't change your mind. because you sorta can't change your mind when you're dead. but maybe that's when the dream world comes in. i've never had a dream. so maybe if i go to sleep, forever, i can wake up. i will have a dream. in the other world. where do you go after death? try to talk me out of it. you can't. you know why? because a. we already established you're not nice. why would you "help" me? b. you are reading this. you'll be telling me something, and i cannot hear you! c. you'll be too late. maybe i can throw you off. confuse you. i can say i'll leave again and then i'll leave. pemanently. but i've already tipped you off. so it'll be a bigger trick when i return! (is this why some of you call me mad?) so . . . . awkward. that apple is still sitting there. on the ground. it would have been better without me. it's on the ground. bruised. left alone. nobody's going to pick it up. and no one wants to eat a bruised apple. i live by myself. some say i'm messed up. mahybe they're right. they don't go near me. they don't picky me up. oh great. i have just compared myself to an apple. i've already said that i dislike apples. and if i'm similar to an apple . . . . . do i dislike myself? i want to wake up. just let the pain go. but if i wake up by dying, would i die in the other world? or come back from the dead? i'll live. my live is horrible right now. but i don't want to die. suicide i for cowards. it makes me mad. but i do feel bad for being mad at someone for dying. i'm not going to hate myself. i'm not going to hate myself by committing suicide. there are many other less dangerous ways to hate myself. what idiot thinks of safge ways to hate herself? don't call me an idiot, it is not very nice. if you must call me anything besides my name, please say it to yourself. even if it is a nice thing. there are no nice things about me. i am an apple. if you want to do something nice for me, make me stop comparing myself to apples. or just don't do anything at all. because you don't like me. i will be right back. hello. guess what i have? if you guessed apple, you are wrong. if you guessed nothing, you are wrong. if you guessed anything that is not a knife, you are wrong. if you anger me now, be reminded i have a knife. (but you can forget that you're not in my house and you're only reading this.) i know what you're thinking. and i don't know if i can tell you that you're right or not. sorry. no, not really. what do i want to do right now? i am at a computer with a bruised apple on the ground and a knife in my hand. it makes it hard to type. (not the apple, it doesn't really do anything on the ground but irk me.) i have a knife. i can control my life. This is for you! The ones that told me i was worthless! The ones that told me i was no good! Suicidal! An idiot! Horrible! Stupid! Emo! Is this what you wanted! A knife in my hand! You did this to me! it was quiet. i had it. in my hand. change a fate. i looked at the ground. that apple was there. this is what it had come to. i took the knife in my hands. brought it above my head. "Goodbye." i stabbed the apple.Ç 0 ÈDelete | EditFear of KnowingMood: Edgar Allen Poe Listening: silence I walked into my room. It was dead silent, except for the wind blowing calmly against the curtains. I quickly ran over to my window and closed it tight, locking it. It was a cold night, and I wished that that was the reason I had closed the window. 'you're just imagining it.' yes, she liked that thought. 'that is what is happening, that is all.' but then she would be called mad. She thought she was mad, at least. Every night, she went to her room and switched off the light around 9:00. She could still see with the moonlight coming gently through her curtain, illuminating her room. She walked silently to her bed, and tiptoed in. she moved gently and soundlessly, anything to hear the slightest sound, just to know. but then it occurred to her: 'why don't I make noise? I only know he is here because it is so quiet. Too quiet, that anyone can hear the slightest sound, the slimmest and most soundless figure coming into the room, sitting on the bed. Watching. Just observing me.' Then she laughed. ’I am mad.' she crawled under the covers of her bed. she always went to bed facing her door, away from her window. she took up a small portion of her bed, closely holding her knees to her chest. she lay in one corner of the bed, the opposite corner facing the window. he always sat there, in the opposite corner. Now, you might ask, why don't I turn around? well, if you knew someone was in your room, you most likely would turn around. but have you ever been in the situation? he is sitting there. you are facing the door. you know there is no possible way for him to be there. he just is. sitting on the corner of your bed, waiting and watching. No, I don't ever see him, but it's as if I know that he is there. like a ghost, lingering, trying to take my soul with him. If I turned around, he would know I noticed him. and then what would happen? he would speak, or we would stare. I couldn't just turn around and go back to bed like I had been doing. no, that was not the way this could happen. I would not see him. 'And just go into madness!' she sobbed. Suddenly she felt something on her neck. A soft touch, loving. She opened her eyes. The door was closed. At that exact moment I felt completely scared and happy. The man I had imagined existed! What else could it be? But then again, I was petrified. 'he exists!' what would he do to me now? All of those thoughts did not take long, and he had only been stroking me for a few seconds. He had the lightest touch, and it calmed me down. I wanted to cry, though I wasn't sure why. “Shhhh..........” he whispered. His voice was beautiful, so calm and loving . . . I began to breath irregularly. He leaned down so he was lying beside me. He had a very slim and silent figure, and didn't make any noise when he was moving. “What is wrong? Sleep. You are safe here.” I sobbed again. “Why do you cry?” he stroked my head again. I suddenly turned around then, angry. Who was he, to come in here, into my room, just sit here, just act like. . . . this! I turned and face his eyes. The light was dim, but his eyes were so bright. He was amazing. His blue-green eyes glowed; his face and his body were just . . . beautiful. It was quite odd, though. Besides the fact that he was in my room, he was so gentle and kind; I felt as if I had known him my whole life. What else was odd was that he was wearing a suit. It was black and gray, vertically striped, with pointed shoulders. His pants were also straight and black, but he wore no socks or shoes. My anger turned into affection, and I felt that I could not take my eyes off of him. “I . . . . .”“ I didn't know what to say. “What is it that makes you cry?”“Why are you here?” I asked. “Why are you?” “I live here, don't I? This is my room, and you are trespassing!” I yelled at him while whispering. “I think you are confused.” “And I think you're wrong!” “You do not live here.” This caught me off-guard. “What? What do you mean by that? Of course I live here. Fourteen years of my life! I grew up here!” “But did you really? Did you ever really live here? Look around you. The room is always the same. Nothing ever changes. It is always night in your room. Do you ever remember waking up? It has only been a few seconds since I have been here before.” I shivered as tears rolled down my cheeks. I tried to remember, remember anything about this house, what did it look like? What did I like to eat? Where would I go, besides this room? I was only ever in here, and it was such a big house . . . . or was it? ‘Surely I would have had to gone somewhere else before.“You do not belong here,” he told me. I sat there staring at him. How was it possible? I couldn't remember. “Then where do i belong?” “Escape with me.” “How could I possibly escape with you? Do you have any idea how you sound right now? You are telling me that you have been watching me every night in my sleep for the fourteen years I have been here, that the world I am living in is . . . just not real, and you just expect me to run off with you? How am I supposed to believe you?“You live in lies. You have to come with me now.” “Why?” “You are not supposed to know! That is it. That is the danger of me telling you. Once you find out . . . you have to come with me.”“i can't,” she sobbed again. “You have to.”She looked at him, sad.His face looked as if he was saying Fine, but he whispered “Then sleep,” instead, and was gone. “What? How can you just . . .?” but he wasn't there, and I found myself tired.The next morning, I got up and brushed my hair, looking in the mirror. I could see the window behind me. What happened last night? I couldn't even remember. But why did that even matter? I walked outside of my room, to the hallway. There were no other doors.'That's odd.' I thought, 'There has to be more rooms than just mine.' she walked along the hallway until she came across a living room. had she ever been in here before? She looked around. there was a couch, a bookshelf, a kitchen next to the living room. she went over to the bookshelf and chose a book. it was gray didn't have a title. she opened it. It was blank. “That’s odd.” she put the book down and chose another. It was the same way. She put the books back and went over to the kitchen. There were cupboards, a stove, and a refrigerator. She opened the refrigerator. No food. “What . . . .?”What was happening? She went over to the cupboard and opened it. No food in there either. Or bowls or plates. She looked at the stove. There weren't any buttons to press, nothing to turn, you couldn't even turn it on. 'This is just weird.' she looked around for another hallway. There were two, the one she came down, and another one she hadn't tried yet. She went down the other hallway and found another bedroom. “Oh, thank you!” Finally, someone else lived here, someone she could talk to! Maybe they would know what was going on. However, when she went inside, there was an empty bed, a closet without any clothes, a bureau without anything inside or on it. “Why am I the only one here?” She went back into the hallway. “Am I dead?” She went back down the hallway. She looked for a door. A way out, anything. She was trapped in a house without a door? How could she have been in here? “Even if I’m not dead, I want to be.” suddenly, she got an idea and ran to the kitchen. She looked around for a knife. She opened all of the drawers, everything. There was nothing. “Oh, I should have known! I can't find anything in this house! Not even a knife to put me out of my misery!” it would be the quickest way, but there were other ways. “Fine. Then I will starve to death! There is no food in this house, so I won't eat!”But then it occurred to her: she had been living in this house for 14 years, and she couldn't remember ever eating anything. “URRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRG!!!!!!!!!!!!! i will never escape this prison!” She screamed. Depressed, she went back to her room. Was it night already? She closed her window. 'when did I open that?'she lied down on her bed. This was all so confusing. What was happening? Where was that man? She waited. She cried to herself all night, just waiting. Anything. She had to get out of here. The next morning she woke up, alone, with her window still closed, without the slightest recollection about a man in her room, the chance of escape, or another room in the house. Just a girl, living blindly in an empty house.Ç 0 ÈDelete | EditBoredMood: not Bored Listening: Billy Joel Ok, so i bet you are confused why I titled this bored, since it says that I am not bored. Don't worry, it's not lying to you, and neither am I. So, this doesn't really make any sense . . . . . well, actually, I never really make any sense . . . . but in this case I am making perfect sense! Anyone can see that! RIGHT?!?!?!?! No? Oh, well maybe this will help you? I shall wait for you to return. Ok, so maybe I didn't wait, but how would you know? You were gone! You left me! How dare you abandon me. Excuse me, i need to go cry in a corner now. Nah, i don't really feel like crying now. Why? Because i am not sad. And everyone knows that I don't cry in corners! So, on with the story! Well, if you would call this a story. (I wouldn't) (By the way, this is my response to 'bored' [did I already say that? never mind, it was so many words ago . . . ], so YOU MUST READ THIS PLATYPUS29 AKA FRANK!) See, this is where you see how i am not like Frank. As I am a girl and I do not keep a diary, Frank is a boy and he keeps a diary. And, unlike him, I am allowing you to read this, unlike he did. Obviously his warning did no good if you know what i am talking about! Frank will be very disappointed, tsk tsk. So Frank, here is something for you, why do you think you will publish a book before me? I mean, I was writing a book and I will probably never get back to it and I have tons of ideas that I forget all of the time and never bother writing down because I cannot find the words! But i will make a book! And I agree with you that you will publish one before me. Unless i make a short story. A reeeeeeeeeeeeally short story. Maybe i'll just publish one of my creepy journal posts, or my other weird and mad things i wrote in my actual journal (which for anyone else reading has pictures in it, and if my journal scares you, just do not look at the pictures) which is even better and crazier than my actually journal posts. Honestly though, I don't think I'm that great of a writer. A lot of other people say I am, so i guess i must be . . . . you make me feel good now. At the moment. Moving on You are right, Frank, I do know better than to read your diary, but is it not human nature that when we are told not to do something it makes us more curious and we do it? Besides, I would not know to not read your journal until I have read the first sentence, and since I already started, why not finish? Fedoras are amazng too. I didn't know what a fedora was before Veggiue Tales, (wow) and I did not know what a fez was before Doctor Who. Now that i have seen Doctor Who I adore fezes and Doctor Who. You should watch it! HE IS AWESOME! (and so is the show) And almost lastly, i must agree with Frank. Writing in my journal is boring. Kind of. Only the action. I type quickly, but I press keys by accident a lot so I need to go back and everything, then i need to edit the actual story . . . . it takes a while. But that can be fun! If I am bored. But I am not bored now, I really wanted to respond. I enjoy making stories, but I just really dislike the actual actions of writing. Ok? Ok. In fact, I think a lot more quicker than i write (obviously) so half of the stuff i want to write never gets written down because i have something else i want to say and never get back to it, or I just do not want to type it. Which results in me never getting back to it. So . . . . . . enjoy the story? Sure. Of course you did. Unless you didn't. Even though this technically wasn't story. I said before that I didn't consider it a story. I still don't! But as you know, that was just so many words ago. Maybe someone will love it so much that they will publish it and I will have a "story" published before Frank does. Ha ha! TAKE THAT FRANK! Wait, You won't? Oh. Thanks, Well i guess you can take the fedora instead. I CALL THE FEZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (I shall call it Shasha)Ç 0 ÈDelete | EditOver the River and Through the Woods, oh Where the lives had gone?Mood: ticking of clocks Listening: I Will Survive Over the River and through the woods, the broken clock ticks the butterflies hum the thiefs give kisses while the parents bleed and the girl in the corner sleeps. Over the river the people cry, they wander blindly as they sing they laugh and smile while the peope die.they run and fall and laugh and cry, happy they're mad but not sure whythe river is rushing while blood is gushingthe watches are setthe broken clocksand yet you don't care because you smile and blink andcry, thinking . . . . . How mad am I?Something to knowMood: always thinking Listening: heartbeatswhat you call madness is not particularly so. they are the ones who truly knkow it is brilliantness in a different way. i mean, is it not obvious? mad people can be fun. well, the good mad ones. if there is such a thing. people can be mad and murderous, like Edgar Allen Poe has fortold, or they can be mad and fun, like Alice in Wonderland. if i am to be mad, would you not like to be the kind of mad form Alice in Wonderland? the magnificent, wonderful, magical madness? i would . . . . . . . am i?Ç 0 ÈDelete | EditPleaseMood: sad Listening: sorry this is a journal post, for the person who is reading this. no, i don't mean everyone who is reading this, not just anyone, but the person who this is for, who knows i am writing this to them. most people say how their lives are hard and they wouldn't understand, and that is why they are acting this way and all. but guess what? maybe life isn't hard. maybe it's just fine, and i'm the one complicating things. i am sorry, just . . . . . I'm sorry! maybe i am insane. you said you questioned my sanity, did you not? so do i. and for all of the other Subeta users reading this . . . . . just . . . . . rrrrrrrrrrrrrg! *bangs head*i am just broken. for now. my mind keeps changing. be insane, enjoy life. does that seem good to you? no. but sadly, that is what will happen. or so i think. i might delete this post. i feel so stupid! i am sorry. i am sorry you are reading this, that you are loved by someone who seems this bad. but i do. until the end. the unfortunate end. i am sorry, completely sorry. Ç 0 ÈDelete | EditThe mad ladyMood: i'll edit the typos later Listening: Lion king! she looked at me. a face so delicate and innocent. why did it have to be this way, it just wasn't fair! she showed almost no emotion, just that face, her eyes bright, not a hint of sadness. she knew perfectly well what was going on. so why was she jsut sitting here? she blinked and saw my face. was it really that easy to read? "you're sad." she said. nooooo, really? what made her think that? "Why?" "Why do you think?" she looked at me blankly. in fact, i didn't even know why. she was just some girl i had met.not to mentikon she was mad. and the people in the stupid village thought she wa a witch. so now what were they doing? sitting in a prison cell, trying to let her escape. but she wouldn't leave. and she kne wwhat was going to ahppen! "What is wrong with you?!?!" i yelled. she looked up at me with fear. she was jsut sitting there, as i was pacing around, thinking of a way out. it was like she didn't even care. "C'mon. we need to leave. you can't let them . . . . you know. let's go!" "Why do you want to leave? what is wrong here?" "Those people want to kill you!" "And?" "Urrrrrrrgh!" i kicked the wall in frustration, which was a bad idea, because now my foot hurt, and . . . . wait a minute. maybe it wasn't a bad idea. because there was a square. in teh wall. and it moved. i knelt down, touching it, trying to move it again. it was moveable! "Hey, look at this" i called to her, and she came over. "I fouind this square in the wall. maybe we can get it loose and see where it leads!" i jiggled it more. trying to fit my fingers between the small cracks. she just watched me. finally, the stone came loose. eager, i moved the stone, and . . . . found a wall of dirt. but it was made of dirt! i touched it. it was soft. "Help me dig!" she looked puzzled, but started to help. i didn't know what we would accomplish by this, but then, it turne out that the dirt wall wasn't that thick. while we were digging, the diret wall no longer was a wall but a tunnel. "C',mon!" we smiled, and cralwed through teh tunnel, to our escape.Why is this any different?Mood: confused, possibly upset Listening: emptiness everyone can live in this world together. if not, then why are we here in the first place? well, . . . i'm gonna save that for a different joural entry. we can live togetehr, but not everyone chooses too. so they go to war. and i'm sorry, but that is just terrible, and here is what i do not get: murdering someone is illegal. right? right. when someone goes to war, do they murder people? hopefully not, but that is usually the intended purpose. you really can't avoid this. so do you ever hear anyone being arrested and put on trial for murderering someone if they were fighting in a war? no. not that you should. but what's really the difference? no one needs to die, or fight, and no one ever needs to get hurt. some people think that violence and death is the answer. people will be arrested for murder, but not murdering in a war. wars are just so unnecassary. does anyone else see that? murdering is illegal unless you work for the war. what's the difference?Happy EndingsMood: have i written a story with a happy ending? Listening: the ones on my profile, i guess? hello! guess what? so far, every story in my journal i have written is either 1: not a story or2: ended with death or something else bad why do i do this? well, i don't know why i write about death so much. but i like to. if you read some books or movies, you can usually guess what will happen. that's because the characters usually don't die. well . . . . . . i'm sorry. but i will write some with happy endings, i swear! i think. possibly. maybe. eventually . . . . . everyone knows that not everything in life ends with a happy ending. i like the kinda of stories that don't. sometimes. so why do i write death a lot? fair question. i don't know the answer. i'm sorry, am i confusing you? trust me, if i was explaining this i real life, you would have no idea what i was saying because i talk so quickly (seriously, ask thejman98!) i'm usually smiling, and i don't usually have a reason to be sad. why should there be? everyone, here is some inportant information: LOVE YOUR LIFE! after all, why shouldn't you? but now you might ask: so why do i write about death? i have a tricky mind. so how about we find out teh answer later? it would make more sense if you found out after i did, since i don't kow the answer yet. right? i hope you all have a happy ending in your life, for mine is . . . . . Nasty LiesMood: stupid liars in the world Listening: deathStupid lies everyone tells,infultrates your life like spellsthey come to the mind so quickly now,and you think to take a bowyou're hiding yourself in an endless craveand you don't know how to behavejust now no one really believes you, i knowso you lie alone and dead. lying was the final blow.knowing notMood: think Listening: sleep little girl, rest your head, be thankful for your nice warm bed. you don't know what happens out there, because you are too young to care. people die, people get ill, people cry, and then they will wish for a better life than what they got while you are sleeping, nice and hot, resting, dreaming, knowing not, how bad the others feel, their lives rot.The Spell of the RulerMood: crooked Listening: Revoluton Number 9 the bunny jumps up on a hillthat Jack and Jill roll downthe clock goes counterclock-wiseas the people run around.rescue us from this horrid place,the little people yell.but the ruler has a crooked smileas the people die from his spell.Ç 0 ÈDelete | EditThe girl in the cornerMood: Don't forget Listening: Coraline Exploration Song little lonely girl, sitting in a corner. people would hate her. why? because she sees the truth. everyone lives in a pleasant little fantasy. it's a perfect world, for some at least. you do not survive, you live. but you are not really ever alive, just dreaming in a fake world, being held there, given this life so you do not ever leave. you don't see through the illusion, the one of the perfect life. some do not want to, some do not know, and others are afraid of what will happen if they ever realize. poor little lonely girl. sitting in her little corner. she lives in the fantasy as well. you're not supposed to know what goes on in this fake world. what is really happening. so why does she? poor little lonely girl, knowing. here, it is dangerous to know. if you know, you are in danger. so she cannot tell the people. but only whisper to herself, to remember. 'the people simply cannot know.' she must, and she knows she will remember, but once she knows the truth, everything changes. "Forget it all, forget it now, and your life will come back to you," she fights with herself and the world. she wants her real life, not this broken fantasy. she must remember the truth, is it not the only way? but once you have seen this life for what it is, you do not come back. no one here is safe, the lonely girl knows, but she does not want this. 'go away thoughts, i do not want you here, but i need you,' why must I need to know? it was so dark when she woke up, she had been sleeping for the longest time. she could not see, yet she knew where she was. she was in her corner. the lonely girl in the corner. but everything seemed happier now. "There you are!" another girl said, walking over to the corner. "Come on, we've been looking for you!" the girl felt like she had forgotten something, like an answer in a dream 'that must be because i fell asleep.' she figured. after all, what else was there to think? "why don't you play with the ball with me and him?" teh otehr girl asked. getting up from her corner, the girl followed the other and went outside to a winter day, carrying a red ball she did not remember having. the memory of the girl's thoughts were gone, as if it must have beeen a dream. this was real enough, it couldn't be the dream now. she did not like those thoughts, doubting this world. 'of course it is real,' she thought, because that was what they wanted her to. 'let those oterh thoughts drift away.' yes, that would be nice. the thoughts drifting away. yes, that seemed the right way. the thoughts would be gone and the girl wold play with her red ball, without remembering a dream in a corner.One Golden WishMood: i need to write more stories with happy endings . . . Listening: idk, what music are you listening to? “Rosaline, you get back here right now!” her mother, Katherine, screamed. She and her daughter had been walking in the park since 11 a.m., trying to make Rosaline happy, and it was now 5 p.m. and Rosaline wouldn’t come home. Rosaline turned around and shouted, “NO! I’m not coming back home until I’m happy. Yesterday my teacher told me that long ago there were pirates that had buried a big, golden block known as ‘The Golden Sphere’ somewhere in this park. It’s supposed to be worth a lot of money, and I am going to find it. I won’t come back until I do! I will find this gold if it takes me the rest of my life! Someday, I will die rich!”“Rosaline, you get back here right now!” her mother, Katherine, screamed. She and her daughter had been walking in the park since 11 a.m., trying to make Rosaline happy, and it was now 5 p.m. and Rosaline wouldn’t come home. Rosaline turned around and shouted, “NO! I’m not coming back home until I’m happy. Yesterday my teacher told me that long ago there were pirates that had buried a big, golden block known as ‘The Golden Sphere’ somewhere in this park. It’s supposed to be worth a lot of money, and I am going to find it. I won’t come back until I do! I will find this gold if it takes me the rest of my life! Someday, I will die rich!”Katherine sighed. “Rosaline, you are eight years old. I am your mother, and I tell you the orders, not the other way around! Besides, what are the odds you’re even – look out for that hole!”“Nice try, but I’m not falling for that!” Rosaline responded, thinking her mother was trying to trick her. However, to Rosaline’s surprise, there was a hole in the ground! She fell right down into it, screaming, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”Katherine ran to the hole. “Are you alright, my precious?” she asked, looking down the narrow hole. Rosaline’s pink dress was covered in dirt and her blonde little curls were all messed up.“Of course I’m not!” Rosaline responded, yelling up the great hole. “This hole is deep!”“Are you broken at all?”“I don’t know, I’m not a doctor! Get me out of here!”“I’ll go get help,” Katherine said as she started running towards the police station. “Finally,” Rosaline muttered. “I hate this stupid hole,” she pouted to herself. “I don’t have my gold, and now I have to sit in here until mother comes!” She tried brushing off some of the dirt on her dress, but it was no use, the dress was ruined now. She looked around the little space she was in. “What’s this?” she asked herself. She saw a little shiny glint in the dirt. “It’s probably just someone’s trash,” she thought. But this ‘trash’ seemed to have a golden tint to it, and surely no one would throw something that shiny away? She brushed some of the dirt off with her hands and saw that the little glint was a piece of metal. But she couldn’t see all of it. She brushed off more of the dirt and saw the metal piece was actually pretty big! She kept brushing away dirt until a big metal ball was sitting in front of her. It was as tall as it was wide, and was even bigger than she was! And she was almost four feet tall! She grinned as she said, “I’m definitely happy now!” Just then, she heard a voice. She looked up.“Save my baby!” Rosaline heard her mother call. She was standing next to 3 policemen. One man had a ladder. Rosaline smiled, as she couldn’t wait to come back up with her fortune. The man holding the ladder put the ladder down, but as Rosaline was about to come up, she faced a problem. “Oh no!” she cried, “I can’t lift it! It’s too heavy!”“What are you talking about?” Katherine asked, “What’s too heavy?”“My gold,” Rosaline told her. “I found the pirate’s gold down here, and I can’t lift it!” She crossed her arms. “And don’t you think I’m coming back up there without it!”The policemen and Katherine pondered what to do about the situation. “I could climb down and try to get the gold and your daughter out,” one of the policemen suggested. But when he tried, the hole was too narrow to go down. Even if he was to get down, the gold was too big and heavy to get out of the hole. “Maybe we could try making the hole bigger?” Katherine asked. They all agreed that was a good idea, but when they started digging, some of the dirt fell on Rosaline, which made her even more aggravated; and they didn’t want to bury her. It was about 8 p.m. when the policemen ran out of ideas to get Rosaline out. Sadly, Katherine was forced to leave Rosaline in the hole. She decided that if her daughter was going to live in that hole, she would go to the park every day to drop food down the hole to keep her precious daughter alive. Unfortunately for Rosaline, every time she tried to catch the food, it would hit the ground before she could catch it and she refused to eat dirty food.So in the end, since Rosaline never ate anything and was too stubborn to come out of the hole without her gold, she died from starvation. Well, at least she died rich!Katherine sighed. “Rosaline, you are eight years old. I am your mother, and I tell you the orders, not the other way around! Besides, what are the odds you’re even – look out for that hole!”“Nice try, but I’m not falling for that!” Rosaline responded, thinking her mother was trying to trick her. However, to Rosaline’s surprise, there was a hole in the ground! She fell right down into it, screaming, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”Katherine ran to the hole. “Are you alright, my precious?” she asked, looking down the narrow hole. Rosaline’s pink dress was covered in dirt and her blonde little curls were all messed up.“Of course I’m not!” Rosaline responded, yelling up the great hole. “This hole is deep!”“Are you broken at all?”“I don’t know, I’m not a doctor! Get me out of here!”“I’ll go get help,” Katherine said as she started running towards the police station. “Finally,” Rosaline muttered. “I hate this stupid hole,” she pouted to herself. “I don’t have my gold, and now I have to sit in here until mother comes!” She tried brushing off some of the dirt on her dress, but it was no use, the dress was ruined now. She looked around the little space she was in. “What’s this?” she asked herself. She saw a little shiny glint in the dirt. “It’s probably just someone’s trash,” she thought. But this ‘trash’ seemed to have a golden tint to it, and surely no one would throw something that shiny away? She brushed some of the dirt off with her hands and saw that the little glint was a piece of metal. But she couldn’t see all of it. She brushed off more of the dirt and saw the metal piece was actually pretty big! She kept brushing away dirt until a big metal ball was sitting in front of her. It was as tall as it was wide, and was even bigger than she was! And she was almost four feet tall! She grinned as she said, “I’m definitely happy now!” Just then, she heard a voice. She looked up.“Save my baby!” Rosaline heard her mother call. She was standing next to 3 policemen. One man had a ladder. Rosaline smiled, as she couldn’t wait to come back up with her fortune. The man holding the ladder put the ladder down, but as Rosaline was about to come up, she faced a problem. “Oh no!” she cried, “I can’t lift it! It’s too heavy!”“What are you talking about?” Katherine asked, “What’s too heavy?”“My gold,” Rosaline told her. “I found the pirate’s gold down here, and I can’t lift it!” She crossed her arms. “And don’t you think I’m coming back up there without it!”The policemen and Katherine pondered what to do about the situation. “I could climb down and try to get the gold and your daughter out,” one of the policemen suggested. But when he tried, the hole was too narrow to go down. Even if he was to get down, the gold was too big and heavy to get out of the hole. “Maybe we could try making the hole bigger?” Katherine asked. They all agreed that was a good idea, but when they started digging, some of the dirt fell on Rosaline, which made her even more aggravated; and they didn’t want to bury her. It was about 8 p.m. when the policemen ran out of ideas to get Rosaline out. Sadly, Katherine was forced to leave Rosaline in the hole. She decided that if her daughter was going to live in that hole, she would go to the park every day to drop food down the hole to keep her precious daughter alive. Unfortunately for Rosaline, every time she tried to catch the food, it would hit the ground before she could catch it and she refused to eat dirty food.So in the end, since Rosaline never ate anything and was too stubborn to come out of the hole without her gold, she died from starvation. Well, at least she died rich!She wasn't the Only OneMood: The way you feel while listening to Revolution Number 9 Listening: Revolution Number 9 she died alone, crying, in the dark. with no one there for her, all alone and scared. no one even knowing she exsisted. she was amazing. she had all of the power in the world, was in charge of everything, knew everything about everything and everyone, could travel in time, do everythingbut she wouldn't. it could ruin the world. all that power, and not able to use it. no one knows who she was, or if she was even a she. or if she was born, or if she had any relatives. or if it was possible for her to die. was it? she knew everything, but never thought about answering questions like these. why? because she had never wondered them. all this knowledge about everything but not ever wondering about yourself. enough to drive anyone mad, right? did she? we do not know, and she didn't realize it. do you know anything? no? she was scared of herself, and even though she knew everything, she was confused.
though, she played a small part in all of this.
yes.
there were more.
now, who might 'they' be you might ask?
well,
it is for me to know
ad you to never find out.The GirlMood: Listening: First things first: some of you may have read my other journal entires and have thought by now: 'my gosh, she is just obsessed with death!' however, i am not. yes, most of my stories are about death, and death and magic and everything facinates me, but i am not obsesed with death. but i do not think i am. nope. i think . . . . i'm going tom stop writing this part of the entry before i change my mind. anyway, if you think that i am obsessed with death, the stories and entries to come will probably make you think that yes, i am obsessed with death. "Hello, girl." Ms. Kyota said to her. "I need you to go to the store and return in half of an hour. be quick, my chef needs knives to use and prepare the dishes. you need to get the knives." Ms. Kyota stood, waiting for the girl to move. "Well, what are you going to do today, girl? you are working for me, so go get those knives!" fear inside of the girl, she went to the market with her own money to buy the knives. on the way there, Mr. Rotai saw the girl. "Girl!" he hollered, and the girl looked up to find Mr. Rotai's fat face red, and cross. "Girl, why are you here?" the girl did not open her mouth. "Girl, go get me some rope. i need to use it on the farm, to tie my cattle up. go along and hurry, i need none of my time wasted." he waited for the girl to respond, but she did not. "Go, i need that rope!" once he hurried off back to his farm and the girl had her knives, she went to get the rope.while the girl was finding rope to bring to Mr. Rotai, she heard a voice shout, "Girl!" when she did not turn around, Ms. Yalter's hands were on the girl's shoulders, turning her around. "Girl, what are you doing out here? you know that i need you!" Ms. Yalter raised her hand to hit the girl, and when the girl did not flinch, Mrs. Yalter's arm came flying across the girl's face, leaving no mark on her cheek, though it was enough to hurt a girl. "Girl, i need a rench. someone needs to repare my pipes, and i need a rench to do it." she waited for the girl to respond. the girl said nothing. "Now go!" Ms. Yalter screamed, as she went off.after the girl got the rope, she went off to get the rench for Ms. Yalter. as she was getting the rench, Mr. Tralve spotted the girl and screamed, "Girl!" he ran over to her and said, "Why are you standing here when there's work to do? I need a gun to go hunting with." he waited for the girl to respond, but she did not. "Go along, i don't have all day!" then he ran off, waiting in his home for his gun.after she got Ms. Yalter's rench, she went off to get Mr. Tralve's gun. once she got the items she needed, she returned to Ms. Kyota's house. she took out the knive and left the rest of the materials on Ms. Kyota's door steps. she went in with the knives, closed the door, and left in silence, with no word form Ms. Kyota.after the girl went to Ms. Kyota's house, the girl picked up her materials and went over to Mr Rotai. picking the rope out of her materials, she left the rest on his door steps. she went in with the rope, closed the door, and left in silence with no word from Mr. Rotai.after the girl went to Mr. Rotai's house, the girl picked up her materials and went over to Ms Yalter. picking the rench out of her materials, she left the rest on her door steps. the girl went in with the rench, closed the door, and left in silence with no word from Ms. Yalter.after the girl went to Ms. Yalter's house, the girl picked up her last material and went over to Mr. Tralve. with the gun in hand, she went in with the gun, closed the door, and left in silence with no word from Mr. Rotai.4 Muderedthe headline read. Ms. Kyota, Mr. Rotai, Ms. Yalter, and Mr. Tralve pronounced dead. cause of deaths:Ms. Kyota- knive to her heartMr. Rotai- hangedMs. Yalter- a head injury, most likely from a metal object.Mr. Tralve- shot in the headwhoever or whenever the murders were done was unknown, only that another girl was reported missing after the accidents. folks only can assume that the girl was kidnapped and murderd as well. but of course, that means unless you have any information? The Worst is Yet To ComeMood: dark Listening: Coraline Exploration Song the darkness is coming in, we have no time to waste. it's either now or never, do it or die. whatever caused this is unknown, going on in secret for many years. but what is this mysterious darkness? is it death, is it time, is it fear itself? it could be anything, always changing, just to get inside your head. it stalks you, learns about you. it acts fake, and gets close, until if makes you fall. it's always coming closer, never stopping, can't be stopped. it will get you, faster and better than anything else. always try your best, but it will do no good in this case. what else can be done? the darkness is coming, it's creeping, in a silence enver to be heard, in a way never to be seen, it cannot be felt, but only experienced. don't be afraid, but the worst is to come. The Lives of Lost SoulsMood: let's find out Listening: Time kills us all "Hello, death speaking, i think it's your turn."Susan Kann was one of those nice little girls. she liked her little wooden house in the woods, with the bushes and the birds. she did what she was told, went out to play, came in when supper was ready, and had a nice, fine life. she had a pleasant mum and a small, plump dad and had everything that she could ever ask for. she was content, but lonely.one day, while Susan was out exploring in her woods, she wanted to jump on the rocks, over the river. the rocks were pretty flat, but were also very thin. these were perfect for playing hopscotch on.'jump, jump, jump, skip,' thought Susan, playing her hopscotch. 'jump, jump, ju- ach!' she fell into the river. Susan had never been swimming in the river, and it was winter. it was windy with an icy cold in the air, and the current was moving quickly. "Mum!" she screamed, getting water flooding into her mouth.20 years later, Kara Sunn woke up in a hospital bed. how had she gotten there? "Mum! Get me my mum!" she said, though no one was near to hear. "Mum." Kara was so confused, what had happened? she wanted her mum. just then, a nurse walked in."Hello there Ms. Sunn." something about that woman made Kara feel uncomfortable. "you're very pale. and cold. what happened on Saturday? 20 years ago?""Yesterday."a phone rang, and the nurse walked out."Ms. Sunn, i think you need to take this call. now." her tone became harsh. "You've been wrong for a long time, get back to yourself. you've been very lonely. it's time to end that," she said, handing the phone to Kara."Hello?" nothing answered. "Who is this?""Hello.""Hello? who are you? why was-""Death speaking.""I'm sorry, what was that? you couldn't have said-""I think it's your turn.""Wh-" but it was too late, she could no longer feel anything, butcold, icynesss, water going down her throat. "Mum!" was her last words, before she was gone, freezing, in an icy pool of confusion, dying.i'm sorry, that was not my best work. i need to write more, i'll finish the rest some day. i'm running out of time, currently.Who was he?Mood: Listening: silent chirping of crickets. you can listen to this story i'm telling, every word untrue.it started with a note i found, relatively new.one day i was about to do my work as i normally do,but strangely today there was a note on my desk that read "Just for you."intrigued by what i had found, i began to read aloud:"you seem like a very nice girl,someone who i want to meet.someone who does what she is told,so for you i have a treat.when the clock strikes twelve this very night,take your coat off your shelf.i want to make sure you're all right,so only bring yourself.walk to the nearest place of transportation.""Okay," i thought, wanting to meet this man.now i look back, i am not sure if he was even a man at all,or if what he said was true.how could i know who it was?was the 'man' really you?that night i put on my jacketand did as i was told,and being careful not to make a racket,walked outside into the cold.i knew where to go for transportation,since i went there every day.i walked far but happily,and stopped near the bay.it wasn't the bay i was looking for,but something that was near.i turned around and saw the tracks,thinking, "i am here."i looked around and saw no man,so i just sat down.not ever knowing 10 miles away,the biggest train ran.it was the biggest train i had ever seen,though i had never been on it before.only once as a small child had i seen my mother exit the train door.now i sat on the metal track, getting tired, you see.if only i had known what a treat the man had for me. he KNEW i was trusting,he KNEW i would obey.he KNEW what i didn't know;that a train was headed my way.he chose that time for a reason,knowing i'd grow tired and weak.he never wanted to meet me, but wanted me dead in my sleep.i closed my eyes for a short time,wondering when the man would come.i only realize right nowthat i had been dumb.i awoke on the tracks,hearing something loud.a neverending rhythm,and i thought, 'how?'black.i was deaf,i was blind,i was mute.i couldn't feel anything.where was i?i opened my eyes.everything was white.i looked around and saw nothing.what had happened last night?i was alone,scared,confused at what i could see.looking down from where i was,there was the train, the tracks,and . . . me?i was lying there on the tracks,bent in an odd way.the image replays in my mind,like it was only today.i'm crying now, thinking:"Who was that man i thought?"i could feel my body sinking,my blood coming to a stop.he spied on me,hated mefrom the very start.he never wanted anything more but the stopping of my heart.i should have never trusted him.here i was,in a white place,where i was finally at peace.was killing me the only way?that man was such a beast!i wasn't sure if i was angry,but now one question remains:who was that man,that had killed me with a train?TimeMood: scared, confused. Listening: "Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'. . . into the future. . . " time is an illusion,something that leaves too much confusion,is it too long, or not long enough?time is changing, making life rough,of time i think i've had enough.time is ticking,time is moving,time never stays still.time is mysterious,time is bad,thinking about it makes me ill.time is scary,time is good,time will never stop.time is overwhelming,it will make me drop.time is awfully confusing, so throughout the years, a questions comes to mind:in the years to go by, what will become of time?Listen,Mood: spiritually depressed, but physically happy. Listening: "Young girl, don't cry. i'll be here when your world starts to fall." lost,stumbling,where am i?who am i?"Is this the real life?" or shall it be a fantasy?people care about the simplist and smallest things, let them agrivate them. who cares? there's bigger things, people less fortunate than you. why does it matter? sit down and think, 'is what i'm saying really important? should i really make a big deal?'or intead, 'this girl knows nothing. what she says isn't true, why listen to her?' maybe true, i don't know. but as the years go by, maybe you'll change. i think about life, and what i do with it. you should too. what will happen in 20 years? will the world end in 2012? what if it does? what will you do? panic? is that how you plan to spend the last seconds of life? love, enjoy and remember. trust yourself.liking himMood: Happy Listening: Music you walk around, lonely. experience it around you, not kowing what it feels like, being curious. is there really a person for you? is what you saw in the fairytales exsist? it does, but you must find it. being young, do i know if he is the right one for me? i want to know he is, but he will move away when school is done. is this a sign? that we shall not be together? i don;t want it to be. he likes me, and i like him. what do i do? i am happy, and will be sad when he is gone. he has to go, and has no say. but why? i wil be sad by then, but for now i want to enjoy him, and the fact he is here. do i love him? i definetly like him. if he asked me to be his, i would agree. but, love is young, and so are we, so what will happen in the future?i cannot believe how much i'm using the journal nowMood: Mood Listening: Music I am writing in a journal. I’m not sure I know the purpose for these right now. I just feel like writing, like I will never put the pen down. That may be because I'm not holding a pen. I'm typing! I would say I would never put the keyboard down, but does that really make any sense to you? You don't hold the keyboard while you're typing. I think that'd look pretty silly, and make it hard to type. So I won't stop . . . moving my fingers? I still think that sounds weird, but I guess. for now. *moves fingers, over and over* If you haven't noticed by now, I'm quite weird. I love logic questions, and I love to argue with logic. I don't like arguing in general, i like getting along with people, I think that's better. Even with people I don't like. that is why wars are totally unnecessary. and here's the ironic part: most of the wars are about different religions! that itself is not ironic, but this is: corrfect me if i'm wrong, but aren't most religions about loving everyone, even yhour enemies, no matter how different? most religions praise the same God(s) and i'm pretty sure God says that violence is bad. stop fighting everyone! please, stop the war.i don't know how i changed the subject to how i didn't want to stop writing, to fighting and religion. but now i'm still going to keep on writing, until someone else in my home has to use the computer, or if i have to go somewhere.i don't know what to type now. i mean, what do i tell you? i can't tell you what i look like or anything, because of safety purposes, so what do i say? i'm a girl, who loves magic and tricky questions. i'm mature, but pretty childish. i love art and singing, and playing on the computer is fun. okay, i think that covers most of who i am. but, here are some more things anyway.i music, and a lot of things. some of them are tacos, tricky questions (like i already told you) and my sister. any questions anyone? no? or yes? i can't really hear you right now, if you're either thinking or saying the answers aloud. . . i have to go. actually, no i do not. so why did i lie to you? i don't know. unless you thought i was saying, 'i have to go log out of the journal thingy' then i didn't lie to you. however, if you thought otherwise, then yes, i just lied to you. i am sorry for being untruthful. (that is, if untruthful is a real word.) anyway, what i have been trying to say for the last paragraph, i am going to stop typing. i know what you're thinking, 'she just said before she wasn't going to stop!' and then, after you read the previous sentence, you will think, 'cool, Lily can read minds!' (unless you're not thinking that, but there's no way i'll be able to know that unless:1. you tell me2. you don't tell me, so i just think i can still read minds. anyway, back to what i was saying: i need to stop typing. the problem is, that i change the subject too often! like, i'll be saying how i was going to leave, and then i started talking about how i change subjects too often! so yes, there was really no point in that sentence . . . or, i guess, this one for the matter, either. but anyway, i am sorry for lying, and wasting your time, by making you read this. (though actually, if you read this and disliked it, blame yourself, id didn't MAKE you read it!) but how do you know you REALLY disliked it??? I wasn't even done writing it yet! so stop being judgmental, and continue reading! i'm sorry, i didn't mean to yell at you. please don't through your computer in anger. because, that will make you even angrier, having to buy a new laptop or computer.about 2 or 3 long paragraphs ago, i said i was going to stop typing this. i am sorry for lying to you again, telling you i was going to stop when now, (again i have no intention to. this thing is so long now. but before i get yelled at for writing such a long entry, i shall leave. (the journal, not the computer, as i clarified before.) now, (for the time-being) i will stop lying and finally end this journal entry. GOODBYE, EVERYBODY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Some quotes, and stuff i sayMood: i have 3 songs stuck in my head: Listening: beautiful, hurt and jar of hearts you walk,you fall,you want it all,until you find your dead."You never know the worth of water, until the well is dry."don't use a white cloth to carry black ink.a nice girl pleases everyone but herself,while a good girl does nice things while making herself happy as well.nothing is impossible, only highly unlikely.eggs are like humans; both have a hard shell and a soft inside."You have to lose your mind before you can come to your senses."hit me, swear, i don't really care, it says more about you then of me.Can you guess what this poem is about?Mood: Listening: content Green after autumn and red after snow,You grow:Big and green,Shaped softly and symmetrical.As temperatures rise your color dies.You dry,You fade,Your color goes away.Soon temperatures fade as well and you fall,Touching the ground without a sound,Frosty white;Being covered by a delicate, cold, white blanket.They die.New ones replace the old,And grow tall and proudly.They turn red and orange and yellow.Green cannot be found,Until the process repeats,With the old left behind,On the ground.The EndMood: be happy Listening: listen to this, please you want to run,you want to hide,you want to scream,try to abide,fear crawls inside,it's just so close,this is what you hate the most, everyone, anything, they take all,everything is gone, they make you fall.the pain takes over,you cry inside,there's nothing to do,nowhere to hide.you grope despirately to find something,anything at all,but they take it, leave nothing,letting you fall,you want to give up, want to die . . . is that the only answer?death?you are never too young to die, but this is when i start to cry,when another poor soul goes to Heaven or hell,just because their own life wasn't going so well.do me a favor,and remember this now,just try and take a vow,that when instead life is going wrong and bad,Remember,you can be happy. not always sad."You can be sad in your life, and think happy in another's,but the only place you shall ever belong is with yourself, being comfortable with yourself."Don't go insideMood: horrified Listening: An eerie silence Mirana turned the old, brass key into the elegant lock. The door was old, but had golden marks all over it, as if someone painted it with melted gold. Gold streaks, painted in a spiraling design, as if it would never end. Mirana tried turning the key, but it wouldn't move. She sighed, now depressed it wouldn't move, but after turning it harder, the door creaked open. The smell of metal and dampness infiltrated the air. Mirana slowly walked inside.As soon as she came in, she wanted to get out. She turned around to the door, trying to escape, but it was locked. She closed her eyes and thought to herself, 'this is not