saphira22e

OKAY. SO MY FRIENDS AND I ARE WEIRD. See the comments for details. ---------------- It all started when Canada was getting ready for bed, having a long and tiring day thanks to none other than America. Canada: That ass America! Everyone thinks I'm him! It's torture! *has maple on his forehead* Eh... *sees a shooting star* Oh, star. I wish everyone knew me and forgot America just for one day.

30 August, Year 199 of New Age So, I’ve got a new journal. Interesting, this one is more… Well, it’s certainly of a nicer quality than the ones Mother usually buys. She must be ‘celebrating’ my return home. Speaking of home, it is much better than I remember- I do believe that the landscape has got somewhat better, even if it is still leftover from the Great War. The land is, well, I can’t imagine what it must have looked like when the nukes first hit. Here we are, nearly two hundred years after the Great War, and the land is still horribly scarred by the warfare, all around the globe. I can’t believe that

The Dollhouse Thirty years have passed since that day. I'm still filled with hate. I still remember the torture, and the shock of betrayal. Most of all, I remember the feeling of being human. The feeling of being alive, happy, content, all taken away. As a human, I was defined by three things: my parents (well, lack thereof), my attitude, and Cain Minette. My parents, well, I had none. I was an orphan. I still had attitude. People expected me to be quiet, shy or melancholy, but I was spunky, loud, and content with life- my life. The last thing people defined me by- Cain Minette, my best friend. The reason why I'm remembered by him? It