For we must all learn to howl.

So I showed my mum the children's story that I attempted to write, and she read it out loud with me with loads of funny and exaggerated actions. It really brought back memories of when she'd read stories to me when I was a kid and pestering her for a bedtime story. :') Afterwards, mum told me that it was a good story, but it wouldn't be good to read it to children. In her opinion, children today have "no imagination", and would be more likely to be disgusted by the story than be having fun trying to imagine how the story unfolded. .......................................................................How sad.

This story isn't original, it was actually a Valentine's Day text that got circulated many years ago, but since we were doing Just So stories in CW class today this popped into my mind. :) A long time ago, there was a rose of , the palest, purest white you could possibly imagine – it was like freshly-fallen snow. A sparrow fell ever so deeply in love with the rose one day, and begged her to love him back, but the rose told him that she would only love him if he could turn her petals red. After thinking long and hard, the sparrow tore his little body apart and spread his blood all over her petals. And so the rose’s petals turned blood-red, and she fell in love with him. Alas, the little sparrow was already dead, and his body was cold, and the rose wept bitterly. And that is why roses are red.

In CW class today, we were supposed to write a Just So children's story in point form. The Just So stories were created by Kipling, and are mostly about how the world came to be "just so". So, my group (consisting of Stef, Tish and I) came up with a story titled "How the giraffe got its long neck, and why monkeys swing from tree to tree". All we had were points though, so this is how I would write the story. Enjoy! ^^ A long time ago, Giraffe lived in the jungle with all the other animals. He had a short neck and legs, even shorter than those of Horse and Donkey, but he was secretly proud of his short neck, and thought that it suited him greatly. One day, Giraffe noticed beautiful Toucan perched high up in the trees above him, and fell in love with her glossy black feathers and brightly-coloured beak. However, she never noticed him as he was too short, and no matter how he called out to her, Toucan never noticed Giraffe as he was too far down for he...

My dad thinks I'm weird. Which actually hurts to hear, believe it or not, even though I agree with him. I'm weird, and boy do I know it. It doesn't stop you from feeling a bit hurt when your own dad shakes his head and tells you that you're weird though.

Just to be random, Tish is awesome with makeup. Just saying. Love you, sweets. You can't see much from here, but Tish helped me put eyeliner (because Kami-sama knows how bad my makeup skills are), and it was  gorgeous . <3 Thanks, babe! (Can I bribe you to help me out with makeup more often, please?....) Well today was tiring but pretty fun, what with helping out with filming for the school and then having drama practice (I only managed to catch the last 20 minutes of practice today due to filming, boo. Got to hug everyone though.) before going for dinner with the drama seniors, which was awesomesauce because I very very rarely manage to go for dinner. The parents get upset (read: SUPERFUCKINGANGRY) if I'm not back before 10pm after drama practice. On my way home, I did what I do almost 24/7 - check Twitter. If you haven't heard by now, I am obsessed with Twitter, and I tweet pretty damn often. Like, several-times-an-hour often. Heh. ANYWAY. I saw that Tis...

I genuinely miss Hokkaido's skies. There isn't a day that goes by without me wishing I could be back in that one place I felt at peace with myself.

Spinning your web, Held together by gossamer threads of illusions and lies that dye it red. You wait, patiently standing in the shadows like a black widow awaiting her prey. Me. The prey comes; you lunge; with sticky webs in your hands. I turn to run, but to no avail; stuck fast; no escape. I strain at these silvery threads that bind me, how is it that they hold me so? Watching me closely, you hiss with pleasure before descending for the feast. A clean bite; barely a drop spilled, but still blood runs across the floor. Or are they tears, stained red by fear and desperation? I guess I will never know. My head lolls forward, hair hiding my eyes, as I succumb to the sweet embrace of the Darkness that threatens to pull me in.