The Operation

A few months ago I had to have an operation, as to why I will spare the details and just say my Uterus is retarded. More retarded than what a Uterus would already be. In fact, it is so retarded I just had to draw a picture to further illustrate the lack of flair my organ had.

Let us skip the small crap and turn to the day of the operation. Upon entering the hospital for my operation, stripping down and putting on the cold uncomfortable hospital gown I was lead to the ‘waiting’ room. I was given a heated blanket to wrap around me since they decided to keep the waiting room at a constant chilling temperature. I believe that this is for those relatives/friends of patients who also sit in the waiting room. It will give them all some sort of common cold, thus, creating the need for medical expenses, and thus giving the Medical Industry profit.

After waiting, for a surprisingly short amount of time, I was taken into the Operating room, it was filled with around three female nurses, one male nurse and a doctor. I remember them pricking me with various needles and telling me to breathe hard deep and slow through some sort of breathing apparatus.I also remember complaining that my nose was itchy, before falling completely unconscious. Afterwards, when I woke up, I realized two things.

1) My nose was still itchy, damn bastards didn’t itch it like I had asked.
2) I was in some foreign part of the hospital, it was dark and isolated.
Now, I looked something like this, since I was heavily sedated and in my heavily sedated state I figured something was wrong, hence my reaction

I was under the impression something was wrong, so I tried to climb out of the bed, not realizing it had wheels, and ended up tumbling to the floor and unpleasantly vomiting on the floor. Now this sort of action caught the attention of a nurse, I have no idea where the hell she came from, but she whisked me up, shoved me in the bed and wheeled me away to a more bright, social part of the hospital. Apparently I had woken up earlier than anticipated and they hadn’t yet moved me to the right ward.

See I am just that damn awesome, the sedative drugs couldn’t even keep me down!

After eating some orange coloured jelly that tasted mysteriously like more medicine I was finally able to go home.

Now, since I was to continue taking painkillers, I was very much useless, I remember crawling to the kitchen to try and boil the kettle. I coudln’t lift it up and ended up falling asleep on the kitchen floor.

I woke up some 10 minutes later, and managed to crawl back to the couch. It was at this point I decided I couldn’t function alone. So got back up, my friend came along and spent the night with me.

I’m fair sure he was taunting me the entire time. Pointing and laughing.

Well, jokes on him. He is allergic to cats, and my cat was ever so loving and affectionate toward him, he more than probably inhaled his weight in cat hair.


It took me a week to get used to the medication and stop seeing blurred hallucinations and zombies.


End.

Sienna Showers

I have often pondered if my beloved cat, Sienna had any sort of mental deficiency. Perhaps it had to do with a traumatic past, as hers was less than pleasant. The feisty feline often finds herself locked in cupboards, fridges and empty rooms. She sleeps on doorframes and licks windows. She ineffectively tries to hide in my jumpers, whilst I am wearing them might I add, and I am fair sure that the amount of fur she sheds is borderline demonic. Or perhaps godly, whichever one involves more fur.

This instance is just one of many a strange happenings in which she is given the lead role.

Now, I live by my lonesome, so I tend to shower with the door open, so the tiny mirrors in my bathroom don’t fog up. Why? Because I am a woman, I don’t need logic, in fact I probably function better without it. The presence of sense or logical/tactical planning and actions would more than likely cause my meek brain to spontaneously combust. When showering I hear Sienna meowing, with a rather pathetic tone of despair upon her vocal chords.

So, I peered out from my tasteless heart covered shower curtain to see her teetering on the edge of the bath, looking up at me with sad doe eyes. I pushed her off and continued my daily ritual of cleaning away the dirt that had decided to stick ever so stubbornly to my skin. Again, I hear her meowing, so I pull the curtain to the side expecting to push her off or away from the steaming cascade of water.

Boy was I wrong.

She had chosen to fling her furry body into my wet unclothed one, perhaps in an attempt to comfort herself, or annoy me. Perhaps she was just curious about the water coming from the showerhead. Who knows, all I knew is that I was wet, naked and had a now wet and furry cat in my arms.

I’d just like to point out that it is a rather unnerving and uncomfortable feeling to be pelted in the back by water, whilst holding a shivering cat, who could potentially snap at any second and claw little tiny holes into my delicate meaty skin.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was more than likely a few seconds, she had chosen to jump down from my arms, and instead of fleeing from the room she chose to sit at the opposite end of the bath, staring at me and expecting me to do something.

She looked like a sad, drowned rat.

What am I? Some sort of miracle worker? Do I snap my fingers and she becomes dry? No, no I am not a miracle worker, if I was I certainly wouldn’t b

e standing there naked in a bath with my pet cat. Then again I am a bit of an oddball and such a thing might just occur even if I did have miracle like powers.

I finished bathing, dried off, got dressed then attempted to towel off my cat. Who was more than appreciative.

To this day, I still do not know why she decided to join me in the shower, but now, whenever I step into the cleansing waters and I hear her the eerie echoing cries I choose to leave the shower curtain safely closed.

One day, I know she will figure out that she can easily pass through said curtain, I dare not think about such a dark day. For now, all I can do is shower in cautious optimism in hopes that such a day will never come.

Dear Mosquitoes

Dear Mosquitoes

Screw you.
Why do you pick the most inappropriate hard to itch areas to stick your invasive prick of a nozzle in?
Sure, you could land on my arm and have a bit of a drink, heck even my shoulder or my legs would seem logical.
But no.You choose to go for the bottom of my feet; don’t you realize that the soles of a person’s feet consist of thick skin? Do you not realize how annoying it is to have a burning itching sensation every time I take a step?

I want to ask how you even managed to get to the bottom of my feet, considering I was wearing thick socks and boots at the time. Sure, I took my boots off but you had legs arms and even shoulders to sample on. So why go for the

bottom of my feet?

Do you hang around and take pleasure in watching me suffer? Is that why I hear that incessant squeal of a buzz at night as I try and sleep? That’s the sound of your sadistic laughter isn’t it? You are just mocking me aren’t you?

You find my suffering amusing. I am just some sort of sick ‘live entertainment’ to you, a sort of reality TV show. Do you film me too? So you can retreat to your worthless shack of a home and watch my anguish? Does it sustain you? Do my groans and mumbles of annoyance make you happy? Does watching me struggle fulfil your desires?

You, Mrs Mosquito and your female companion –oh yes that’s right I know, you have a whole group. I am on to you all. You, all of you are horrid little creatures. You should be ashamed of yourselves.

Just for once, go pick on someone else.

Go find another fetish that doesn’t involve my feet.

I have nothing nice to say to you, or your group of feet loving misfits.

Did you all get ostracized from the mosquito community because of your feet sucking ways? If so I am not surprised. Did you even GET any blood from me when you chose to aim for my soles?

Just because you got kicked out of the mosquitoes little niche’ of popularity doesn’t mean you have to go pick on me. There was a reason why they kicked you out. Instead of praying on me and my poor defenceless feet, I suggest going back to your seedy homes and having a good long hard think about what you are doing and if it is even worth it.

Next time you want to stick your noses into my business why not try an arm or leg? Jeez I even hear that the hand is got a nice bold flavour to it lately. Personally, I’d prefer you stay away from me completely however the courts laughed at my attempt of getting a restraining order against you. However I know that is not going to happen.

So I implore you.

Stay the heck away from my feet.

Sincerely,

Tiffany.

A little Piece of me in July

I like: My Friends

Lately, I've been feeling more and more empty, and become lost in the tangled woods of heartache and my own crippling pain. If it weren't for the few true friends I have out there, I wouldn't be here today. the friends who stay up late with me, let me cry on their shoulders and laugh as we watch B grade zombie movies and plan out how we would survive zombie invasions.

I love how we sit there and shout random things, and magically, it becomes a personal joke between us. I love that when I'm with you guys, it feels like everthing just may one day be ok.

I don't like: Silence

The silence has grown and grown, and it's slowly eating away at me. Driving me insane. I don't feel like me anymore, I no longer look at the world with big bright eyes, but now stare at it with bleak absent apathetic lids. I strove for a sign of light, that tiny flickering flame that we instictivey reach out to.

Yet I got too close, and was burned, leaving myself cold and bitter.

Alone with naught but my own screams to keep my company.
Because the silence, is slowly killing me.

I want you to know: I will never let you go, Ever.

No matter how much you shout, no matter how long you ignore me. No matter how many times you tell me I don't understand and that I'm wrong. No matter how many times you hurt me beyond repair.

I will foolishly still Love you.

Because I cannot control what my heart feels.

I've planned: To go to AVCON

Adelaide's Anime and Video game convention, I've had my tickets for a while now, and rest assured there will be future blogs about this. I've got my costume all set up and ready to go all I need now is for the 23rd To roll on around.

I better bunker down and prepare my house with Mountain Dew, and Doritos to make sure the Nerd infestation upon my humble abode is well fed and nourished to avoid any nerdy wrath.

I've seen revenge of the nerds. Dangerous folk.

I want to say to someone special: Nothing.

The silence kills me. But I have promised never to speak. To stay silent.

By the end of this month: I'll probably be in hopital again as they shove a camera down my belly button.

They think I have Endometriosis, a disease where tissue from the inside of the uterus is growing on the outside of it, and has began to function and grow causing abnormal growth and severe pains;

and as a result I have to have Laparoscopy a surgury where a few incisions are made anda camera will be in my belleh. Clearly not as big as the wonderful Nikon SLR pictured above, but still a rather uncomfortable thing I'd imagine.

I want to have kids one day, so this scares me. A part of me wants to have it so I finally know whats wrong with me, another part just doesn't want it at all. It's a small operation, and I've gone for a few operations before but it doesn't stop me from stressing.
It doesn't stop me from being scared.

Then realizing that in my fear, I am alone and have only myself to cling to.

Into the dark corridoor

Imagine a Gynecologist. One of those freaky seedy ones that have their molesty fingers and monstrous gleaming teeth.

Lips curled into a sneer as droplets of salivation drip from his lips to land on a stained poorly buttoned shirt. Definitely one of those guys with their thin hair combed back in a pitiful attempt to cover the sign of early balding. Don’t even get me started on his shoes, all black and shiny. Almost as if they had some sort of cleaning disorder, and spent their Friday nights in front of the fireplace in a rickety old rocking chair. Rocking back and forth.Polishing and Polishing.

Rock.Rock.

Polish. Polish.

Then there was his eyes, wide and bloodshot. Tiny blue hued circles engulfed by widening black pupils. Sags and bags would underline his sunken eyes, whose eyelash length rivaled that of Madonna.

His tall, lanky build made his footsteps seem like he was stalking, always stalking, with long wide light footsteps. Creeping behind you, and lurking behind every corner, hiding behind a chart attached to cold, hard plastic.

“Welcome my dear…”

He would say in a hissed tone, I swear I detected hints of lust, or perhaps he was just hungry. I wouldn’t blame him, he surely looked like he was missing a feed.

I gave him a slight nod and entered into his musty smelling room, light by a single flickering light bulb. I gulped and sat down in a dusty chair, just when was his last patient? 1970? I’d guess 1970, by looking at the faded picture of a kombi van behind him. A dismal attempt to brighten up the place.

He sat in his own, overstuffed chair, its dirtied filling spilling out over split seams. I assume it used to be white. Emphasis on used to be white. Now it was an off grey, almost black. With every slight movement he made, fleck of what I hoped to be dirt would flake off. Although, I swear I saw some of these ‘flecks’ take flight, fleeing the room through the small crack in the air vent high up on the wall. If only my escape were that easy.

My eyes lowered to the name on his desk. ‘Dr Ventura.’ Interesting name, reminds me of Ace Ventura, although if I recall Ace Ventura was a bright friendly chap. The complete opposite of this Troll-like being.

“Now my dear….we have your test results….”

He began, tapping a pen on his desk, giving me a hungry smile. Definitely hungry. I was tempted to pull out the gum that had been wedged in my pocket for the past few days and throw at him, then whilst he was distracted I could perhaps make my getaway. I sighed, and waited for him to continue.

Tick, Tick, Tick

A full two minutes passed before he continued, was that silence on purpose? Or did he fall into some sort of a micro sleep? Surely he’d be old enough to have waltzed with the dinosaurs.

“You will need…a….how shall I say this…Laparoscopy…” he grinned again, followed by a wink. I did not know the intention of a wink. But. I know what Laparoscopy is.Surgery.

Again.

I gave a nod followed by a wave of my hand, signaling that I didn’t’ really care, nor was I phased by this news.

I think I heard Dr. Ventura growl, he clearly felt the stabbing agony of defeat. Perhaps he fed off of fear? Off of worry? My apathetic reaction surely did not please him.

I giggled, the tides had turned. I leaned forward, hands on desk as I flicked a stray cockroach away from me. “Goodbye Dr…” I sneered, as I backed away, and left his dismal office. As his door shut behind me I heard his anguished cry, followed by loud bangs. He was angry, maddened by the thought that he had lost his next victim, too bad for him that this fantasy, this daydream was over.

I looked ahead of me, to see a clear bright corridor, it smelt faintly like frangipanis, and every so often a smiling nurse would pass me, giving a small nod of acknowledgement. I had passed through the gates of another world, another form of hell and had lived.

Because I had the inner strength to do so.
Take that Dr. Ventura.




--
Now, in all honesty, I’ve been in and out of hospital, I did have to see a gynecologist, but he was much, much nicer and friendlier. I DO have to have a Laparoscopy, and I’m not really worried about it. Compared to what I have gone through lately, it seems like nothing. Wish me luck all.
I’m hoping to have the blog reformatted soon, perhaps after surgery~

The 100 Circle Line

It was another slow day, the sun had only just risen and I had found myself carefully stepping between the cracks in the pavement as I approached the 'drop off point'. The place where a large metal vehicle would belch out a few lucky souls, only to have taken a few more.

I was one of these people. Destined to throw myself into the belly of the metallic beast. I liked to consider myself a brave and noble warrior. As I would dive in headfirst, eyes flaming with a brillant passion found only in those that have found enlightenment.

As I neared the little building, barely providing enough shelter for one against the harsh weather of this barren land, I noticed another and had to pause in my tracks for I had realized how sad a day this was.

There was another who was to be thrown to this beast. The evil of 100 Circle Line, how dare it take more than one life! The horid glutton! I wanted to revolt right then and there, to turn tail and run, but no. That was not the noble way of a warrior.

I took a deep breath and continued, standing next in line. The girl next to me, just a simple school girl, tapping her legs softly with a slight harmonic hum upon her lips, she seemed so blisfully unaware of the dangers she was facing, or perhaps she was an incredibly brave soul. She had a large bag upon her back, alikening her appearence to a sort of humpbacked animal, perhaps a very gorgeous camel, as she was quite the looker.

The 100 Circle line tends to like females, young supple females. I rarely ever see a male venture into this beast.

It pulled up beside us, roaring with the might of a thousand burley bearded warriors clad in aluminum foil. There is nothing more dangerous than a thousand burley bearded mean clad in aluminum foil, except maybe Courtney. Yet that is another story for another day, and I assure you, there will be a story. Thats right Courtney, read over my shoulder with your glittering eyes and yell my name in fear, fear of your secrets being exposed.

Because I love you.

The beast opened its doors to me, and I gave a whimper as I stepped on, the old man drained of his life stared back at me. The doors closed behind me with a thunderous clap, and I imagined a tin foil man snapping his tamborine with an almighty roar.

Why were the people on the Circle Line old and dreary? Did the beastly bus suck the life from them? Their very soul?

Only time would tell.

I gave myself a reassuring nod as I paid my fare, hoping and praying that I would survive the dance with the beast.

The unyielding terror that is...

The 10o Circle Line

The good ol' days

I’m a young 20 year old gal, I am smack dab in the middle of the technological boom that has hit this modern day world. Yet, here I find my little sisters calling me old fashioned.
Odd isn’t it?

Perhaps I'm getting a little fuddely in my old age, what with my trick knee and what not. Honest, I do have a trick knee, at my age. I blame that pesky little white tip spider that bit me on the ankle all those years ago. They say the effects of its toxins can remain for years, every so often my leg would literally ‘spazz’ or do a little kick. It gets frustrating when I am walking down the street.

I must say It would look odd to bystanders, a youn girl, normal (apparently) then all of a sudden BAM she’s doing the hokey Pokey in the middle of a cross walk.


Anyway, enough about that, perhaps I am getting a little old fashioned. Call me what you will but when I see little seven year olds, my golly gosh even four year olds running around with some $500 Ipods and Iphones I can’t help but wonder why, and what on earth their parents are thinking. As a child, I believe one does not need technology to entertain themselves, they got the outdoors and their imaginations.

I stroll past kindergartens, and what do I see? A group of kids, eyes illuminated by the dim glow of a portable DVD player.

Why, back in my day, kids were running around climbing trees screaming ‘Moon Prism Power’ as we all pretended to be Sailor Scouts, ah I remember how people used to fight over who was going to be Sailor Moon, and how I demanded my mum style my hair just like she had. The two little meatball like protrusions from her head.

What happened to the days where we used to zoom around pretending to be captain planet? With his masculine features and shockingly green mullet, tight red spandex and washboard abs, who wouldn’t want to pretend to be him?


Also…back in my day Kinder Suprises were fifty cents! AND HAD GOOD TOYS!

*mumbles*


/end rant.

A Little itty Piece of me in May

This Month I have a few things to say for it is May~

As we walk along the shores of life we leave pieces of us scattered, and fragmented in our wake, both physical and emotional.

This Month;

I like Storms

Fierce and unsuspecting, unrelenting powerful forces from above as the skies reach out to touch the earth, its spindly fingers desperately reaching out to mother earth, for affection for a hello and perhaps for a warm touch, Yet unbeknowst to the storm, it is too powerful and its touch brings naught but destruction across the land that it so lovingly adores~

I don't like: Being Alone~

That feeling, not fear, but dread. Unmistakable and undeniable, as you reach out to those you love only to find that you have naught but yourself. You try to stwin against the currents but they're too strong, they say when it rains, it pours. You become drenched, cold and wet. All you want is to be held by the one you love, so you call out only to be answered by your echoed voice. It is then, that you know you are alone.

I want you to know: Kate, I will steal your Iced Coffee

The horrendous price of asking to move in with your older sister, and all her gay housemates. There is a toll on the fridge sweety and I, the monster will consume it all!

I've Planned: To look after my Altar better

Being a Wiccan, I have an altar one I used to look after everyday but recently with my depressive slump it has been a little neglected, I will fix that quick smart! Candles, insence and cleansings ahoy~

I want to say to someone special: I look forward to the rest of my life with you, Brandon.

I can imagine us fighting at a grocery store over what sort of cheese we'd buy, and the ever increasing prices of milk. Don't worry my dear, we will stock up before the expected great milk shortage of the 2020's!

By the end of this month: I will be on my girly germs

So I will need chocolate, rest, a plethora of various painkillers and medication to keep the cyts at bay. A warm bed and someone to hold. Since I have no one to hold near me I shall attack my cat. Perhaps I should become a crazy cat lady. I hear their pay is quite good, then again the source was unreliable, as she was screeching at me and then proceeded to throw felines my way.

I caught one and took it home.

We now have two cats.

True Story.

Storm Picture by angrygibbon.deviantart.com
Alone Picture by esparrow.deviantart.com
All other Images are sourced from Google and belong to their respective owners~

Dear Billy Bob

*knock, Knock*

Billy-Bob...Billy Bob are you ok?

*pokes her little blog*

C'mon now, wake up, it's time to move, it's time to grow and feed again!



I'm sorry my little Billy-Bob this little lady has been a very bad girl indeed.
You need nourishment, fululment, and I have definately not provided that for you.



Don't worry Billy-Bob, just because my net has been cut off it doesn't mean you wil lbe starved forever. For I have a plight and plan in mind. Oh dear little Billy-Bob...

When I look at your layout, I think of chocolate, a swiss divine chocolate made from cocoa so deep within the amazon forest that I had to tame an Anaconda to find it. Don't ask how I did it Billy Bob, let's just say it involved a lot of ostrich feathers.



Billy Bob, this post is for you. It is not an interesting post, but it is a pots nonotherless, one that will feed you and hopefully spark some sort of life into those dull little eyes of yours.



And now the rants begin, my dear, dear Billy-Bob





Billy-Bob, did you see the pretty picture of me and my dearest friend Courtney? We dressed up as Vocaloid Charecters, ah the true calling of a geek such as myself, dressing up as fictional charecters. What other way is there to spend your weekend? Socializing? Pffft... who does that these days?

See Billy Bob? Aren't we something?

Ahhh the blisfull days of sitting underneath a tree, pretending to sleep as tiny ants chew their way through the supple skin of my backside.

Housemates have come and gone, ah Billy Bob, I had an entire entry written up, I believe I called it 'The beast with a thousand chins' but decided it a little crude, and rude so did not post it, after all if one has nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all.

Billy Bob, I hae yet to start my Vlogs, I am a naught naughty lass. Perhaps i'm lacking inspiration? afte rall as one's health deteriorates so does ones creative juices, I think I need a nice long sleep Billy-Bob. Sleep, the time where I could quite possibly be a viking, or perhaps I'd relive the dream of last night;

Where I was a pencil, and could move around, but one day, someone tried to sharpen me and I didn't like it one bit. Now I have a new found respect for our little wooden friends.


Billy-Bob. I have also started selling Avon, and will create a lovely little sister for you. A blo about products and what not. Of course, you will be my one true calling and only love.

Love from

Tiffers~

Life is but a train

Wow, it’s been ever so long since I’ve made a half decent blog entry, and perhaps will be even longer till I actually pull out a decent one out of my little itty bitty stressed cranium. Perhaps it’s also because I tend to write a lot of posts at work, and work has been busy lately. I’d rather focus on what I am paid to do than a blog~ Although poor Billy Bob is looking rather sickly and pale lately.

Why I have not written anything till now? Who knows, I’d rather not blather on about personal issues, so let’s just say I was kidnapped by lesbian pirates from out of space. That’s believable.

Let’s see, what has happened over the past month, Christmas and appletinis came and went, New years and poolside fun also came and went.

Sometimes I see my life like a train, I am but a mere passenger sitting on an old worn leather seat, with many assortments of gum wedged underneath it. Mint seems to be the proffered flavor of the make believe people in my mind.

As I Look out the grimy window, I think to myself, ‘wow, I should really clean these things,’ until I realize this whole scene is a figment of my imagination, deep within the crevasses of my mind. Which then made me come to the conclusion that I had a rather dirty mind, with an even dirtier imagination.

With a small sigh I wipe the grime and dirt away from the window, to look out at scenes and memories that have passed, even now, as I write this, the moment turns into a memory. The present, lasting mere seconds before it passes us, before it escapes our grasp and we realize we cannot undo our actions.

There is no undo or Ctrl + Z in life, as much as I wish there was sometimes, especially when drawing, I often find myself realizing I made a mistake, turning to press Ctl+ Z, then realizing that I am not at a computer, I am in front of a sketch book outside. At times like that I have to wonder if I have involved myself too much in the world of the wide web. It is also then I realize that I am outside, and that HAS to count for something, even if it means I’m getting my daily dose of Australian UV death rays, or have become the main course for a dozen or so mosquitoes.

One then turns away from the window of memories, to look into the dark depths of the mind, the inside of the little rickety train, knowing my mind it would be a rickety old train. With flickering lights and a seedy, shady looking character near the back. Despite there being free seats everywhere he would be standing, just standing and staring.

That would be my inner demon. I named him Jeffery.

Jeffery doesn’t like the outside world, his world is darker, safer. Why venture out into the unknown when he can lurk here, unharmed by the vicious lies and hurtful words of the outside world?

I feel sorry for Jeffery, really I do. he bottles up everything and bears the world on his shoulders, standing tall, proud and strong, whilst still managing to look like a seedy businessman. I keep expecting him to open his cloak and offer me an organ or two.

If he did, I would totally buy gills.

This is life, this rickety train is my existence, its tracks, bending and curving with each decision I make. I am but a mere passenger, yet I am still able to decide where to go, and when to get off. I glance outside once more, and choose to stand up.

The rickety ‘clack,clack,clack,’ slows, the screeching of breaks ring and echo within my ears, as the train comes to a stop. I give Jeffery a faint smile, as I choose to get off. The doors close behind me, and I take one last look back, seeing Jeffery’s shadow in the window. his palm on the glass pane.

It was a silent goodbye.

All one can do is move forward.

A little Piece of me in January

This is a little something taken from the blog *Notes from the Toothfairy*

I think it's a wonderful Idea, and whilst I am a few days ahead I am still going to write this up~
It is meant to happen on the first Saturday of each month, but First Monday of the month is still good, yes? I'm going to try to remember to do this each month. I always write myself little notes like this, so why not share them with the world? Or at least the blogging world?

I think this is a week late, but better late than never, nyes?

I like: Cold showers after a long hot day at work
I don't like: The crazy weather
I want you to know: That I do want to get back into blogging, and hate the fact I haven't been on here in a few weeks T_T
I've planned: To customize a little PukiPuki doll, it's in the works and I can't wait to see it
I want to say to someone special: There is a saying, that it is better to have loved and lost, but what does one say when that loss outweighs the love?


By the end of this month: I will stop crying myself to sleep at night

Did I accomplish last months goals?
Hahaahahaa No....But hey, you win some you loose some