Blank Doll take the oath.

Listen to me, I love you. Yes, I am speaking to you. I need not name you because you know it when I pen such disgustingly emotional words for you. Forget that I once hated you, that I once fancied my happiest moment would be when I could hear you cry my name to stop as I prick your skin with salted pins. I love you now, unadorned and plain.

Today has been most uneventful. There is homework to do and duties to accomplish, errands to run and a life to live. Yet I find within me a restlessness that has no direction. I need to grow, to run, to curl up and cry myself to sleep. Is it any stranger that I should give such power to my emotions? No, it is no admission of weakness, not when you understand its nature. So let me set this straight, I do NOT feel like a baby in this world and go hurl yourself into a shallow drain if you do.

I just thought of something. Is it not remarkable that the features of Europeans, more correctly, the heirs of the Aryan blood which incidentally includes some Indians and people of Middle Eastern origins, should be so coarse? Yes, there is a certain attractiveness to them, an allure that forces the rest of us to capitulate as we beg for coital release. But seriously, such barbarism. Look upon the faces of Asians, now that is a thing to behold. Let us not marr this discussion by being tiresome, I am speaking only of the Platonian Asian, not your average kin who looks dull enough to be the kitchen's scrub. The ideal Asian is like polished cabochon next to the hewn rock of European stock. It is beautiful, how the slight refinement of our face may hint at the curve of a cheek. How vulgar then, the angles and planes of the European visage.

Oh go away, I am no more prejudiced by race than you are. The matter is that I am proud to be an Asian and regard all Asians as my kin. Besides, I'm sleepy.

C'est tout.