Mikita...
I almost threw you away a bunch of times.
I knew I shouldn't have baked you into potatoes.
I just wanted to combine my two favorite things together, but that didn't work out.
Most of the pages are crumbling, and I always mistaken you for something else.
Gosh, I'm a horrible Journal writer.
Maybe I should put a ribbon on you so I don't try to throw you out?
Don't mind the blood stains. I tried to make a ribbon but I stabbed myself with the needle and blood is gushing from my fingers.
Good. Now you smell like my blood.
Mikita. You. Are. MINE!
Ah. White is a pretty colour on you.
I hot glued it onto you so now I won't accidentally throw you out.
Oh... There's blood on it now too.
Whatever.
I can still write in you at least.
Hmm... since I tried to cook you would that make you a cook book?
Ugh, the ghosts are distracting me again.
I need to try to get social interaction.
I need to visit big bruther or big sister.
YOU ARE READING
Belarus' Journal
Fiksi PenggemarThis is a journal. It is about well... Me, and I'll just be writing my thoughts down about life and other stuff. Maybe I'll even say what I did today as well.
