Blank Doll laughs.

Impending sore throat. OOH I can just feel it. Damn.

My essay on Duchess of Malfi isn't coming along too well. I hope I don't get a C for it though I'm not very sure why I really care.

For better or for worse, I've changed. I can't recognize what used to be my past. The past has receded so far back until all that is left is some torn pages from another person's history.

All the tedium of life, all the joys of it. I want to drink from the cup of darkness, I want my body to be devoured by shadows. I want the vanity, the pride and the pain.

C'est tout.