Sickening.

It's only now that I realise how sickeningly fitting my blog name is.

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What's Your Patronus?

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What's a patronus? According to Professor Lupin, it "is a kind of Anti-Dementor - a guardian which acts as a shield between you and the Dementor". It basically conjures an incarnation of the caster's innermost positive feelings, such as joy or hope, and is a weapon rather than a predator of souls. Patronuses shield their conjurors from Dementors, and can even drive them away. They can also be used to send messages. Well. I've always wondered what my patronus would be. Once upon a long-ass time ago when I was in Primary School, I'd have said that my patronus was a dog, mostly because my favourite animal back then was a dog (of course, that was way before I realised exactly how awkward I am around animals). Then a few years after that when I was in Secondary School, I would have said that my patronus was a tortoise or a turtle, for reasons that I'd prefer not to say. And then after I graduated from NAS, I asked myself again what my patronus co...
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Red.

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I always dye my hair red - I started dyeing it two years ago after I completed my internship because I felt that it was time, I was ready, and I haven't dyed it a different colour ever since. Of course, constant dye jobs do nothing for the hair, which is why I allowed mum to nag me into doing a henna job on my hair instead of the usual bright red I ask of the hairstylist. The result is that my hair now looks orangey instead of red, which is what I expected but nevertheless found myself incredibly disappointed with. (The irony is that I never have such complaints about my hair colour whenever my red fades to orange within the first two weeks of the fresh dye.) Tsuki-kun told me that he felt the orange suited me better since the red was too bright, but I can't quite bring myself to agree with him. See, the thing about red is that I chose the colour myself - it was the colour I was absolutely sure that I wanted for myself, and I never regretted the colour. Sur...
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Break The Mirror. Please.

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I don't want to look at myself in the mirror anymore. I don't want to see my reflection, I don't want to see that ugly girl staring back at me. Those pleading eyes. She wants me to do something, anything, just so she doesn't look so ugly. She's fat and ugly. Hideous, both inside and outside. All she wants is to stop thinking. Because every time she does, the knife inches ever closer to her heart. She will never be as perfect as her . She just wants to stop looking. Shut up. Just shut up. Stop comparing. I know I'm ugly. Stop thinking. Leave me alone! She wants to stop seeing all the fat bits, all the wobbly jiggly bits that she aches to just cut off. Just grab a knife and slice them all off and she won't be so FAT . She won't be so UGLY . She just wants to kill herself. Please?
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