I have Visual Arts every day at fourth period. I get quite a bit of homework from that, to some extent. And I'll probably post some pictures of my sketchbook assignments.
I feel sick. I found Pillsbury pre-cut cookies in my fridge. I ate some of them. Ugggghhhhh.....
We got a new cat. My hands ache from her lethal kitten claws. She's bad luck. Ebony is almost entirely black, and she almost broke a mirror.
I suppose you could say I'm busy. It's a lot, I guess. I honestly don't have much to do, but really, my memory is said to be worse than a sieve.
So, moving on, I'm just going to write a bit of a story here. I'm not sure how good it is, but I try my best.
"The world is turning beautiful."
That's what she always said. I watched as she spun, the autumn sunlight shining weakly through colourful leaves, like a spotlight.
That's how it aways was. Sierra was a dancer. I was an artist. She stood on a stage. I hunched over my sketchbook. She got a standing ovation. I had my pieces hung on a wall.
I didn't mind. That's how it's always been. And really, I still don't.
"Wait for me..." I called, tucking my sketchbook under my arm.
"Slowpoke..." she drew out the 'slow'.
"Hey...!"
"Okay, okay. You do have too much stuff, though," Sierra said.
I shrugged. "I guess. I.. wait did you give me back my pens after science?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, if you say so."
Days could go by like this. I wouldn't have noticed the passing months, years. I guess happiness, sheer bliss, doesn't last. Someday, I would learn. I would learn why I had to go through this. The tears shed, hope shattered like broken glass. I would someday learn why you had to leave me heartbroken, alone. No hand to hold, nothing to keep me from falling, to keep me from falling endlessly. Eternally.
-Camille. I guess that's it. 
