Dear diary,
My blood isn't red, his eyes are blue, I've never thought I would fall in love with him too.
He may be 5 feet tall, but I still consider him my Barbie doll.
Everyone including him calls me a kid and shorty, but I'm damn near forty.
When I'm away from that damn brat, I know I won't miss him, but why when every time I see him, I wanna kiss him?
I know my parents are watching up above, so did they store these feelings of love?
I know my heart has gone and rusted, but I'll think about him while I work on my puppets.
Sincerely, Sasori.
