I love this website and, honestly, it’s been through some seriously depressing times with me. Now, though, I want it to look like a beautiful site that I will never regret and that includes relocating.

Sorry WordPress, but I’m using Blogger.

You heard me, my new website is http://torchoffaerie.blogspot.com/ It may not loo like much if you read it RIGHT NOW, but I’m currently on the hunt for templates I love.

If you have a suggesting, you can contact me!

The site was for me to keep track of such things as my poetry, quotes I made up, pictured I found and, well… Mostly that. I think I’ll attempt another site like the one I had before called “Unspoken”, in which I got the name Mme. Unspoken. I even have the codes that I’ve found in the last pages of my many ‘Friends’ folders in my email account. Who knows. First, of course, I need a hosting website. There are several I could go for that I remember using: Xanga, FreeWebs, Blogger, and, the one I’m using now, WordPress. I might use WordPress for the sake of not having to make another account, but who knows. Xanga, I remember, really confused me, never mind pissed me off on several occasions. FreeWebs, I thinks, restricted me and Blogger… Well.

Now that I’m in grade twelve, I can take grade twelve courses, which includes that Writer’s Craft course that I’ve been dying to take since I got to this school. We are using Blogger to respond to the posts and articles that our teacher posts on her own Blogger Blog and we, ourselves as students, may even have to make our own blog.

I’ll try on here and then… We shall see, now won’t we?

As a child, and even now as a teen, I have taken comfort in holding my favourite porcelain doll as if she were a person. Why is it, I wonder, that the cold, smooth porcelain is more comforting than a warm embrace?

Looking back on that sentence, I realize it goes against just about ever romance novel out there that describes the hug with someone you care for as extremely warm and safe.

Lifeless blue, glass eyes. Fake blonde curls. Smooth, cold skin.

Far more appealing than the real thing, I’d say.

I can’t say that I know why, though. The feeling somewhat comes and goes, you could say. It sort of feels like I shouldn’t be here. Here, where? I don’t know. The town I’m in? The house I’m in? The life I have?

I feel like I should be somewhere else, only I don’t know where that somewhere else is.

Is that something others normally think about? Probably not. Sometimes, at ungodly hours, I would just lay in bed and stare at the ceiling and wonder why it doesn’t feel right.

It’s not like I can say I’m an alien or a witch or a fictional being like in all of those movies we watch. I’m quite positive I’m human, seeing as how I feel pretty human. Granted, how would I know? It’d not as if I have anything to compare to, right?

Alright, now this is going into an odd direction. Aliens? Me? Ugh.

Although, I still can’t shake off the feeling of not fitting into my surroundings. To be honest, I have always felt like that. I’ve always tried to find a way to get away from what I already have. Writing, drawing, singing, music, books. Those were my methods of escape, because, I mean, doesn’t everyone need one? An escape, I mean.

“An escape from what?” is another question. I have no idea.

I really have no idea.

The feeling of utter sadness and loneliness just consumes me whenever I hear this song. But I can’t stop listening.

Sometimes, when I’m listening and thinking, I muse over whether I’m sad and lonely over what actual happened, or rather the feelings that had been left in me. Do I cry because he had lied, or do I cry because I remember that I had cried then?

I know it’s useless to be hung up over something that literately happened four, maybe even five years ago, but it’s still there. The nagging pain of having your heart broken never goes away. Maybe it’s how my heart got broken, because most people get over it. The first love is the deepest. Apparently.

You know, sometimes I want to talk to my friends about it. At the moment, there is only one person I would be comfortable enough to tell, but I haven’t.

There really isn’t a reason not to confide in her, yet there isn’t really a reason to confide in her, either. I’ve only said it to one of my other friends from this town, but that was the basic basics and I had brushed it off with a laugh and a smile. I want to just let it out without holding back, even cry. I know that won’t happen though. Not now anyway.

I was happy, so very happy. I had never been so happy before. And then, after it was all over and everything was out in the open, I broke down. I guess it’s true what they say.

The higher you fly; the harder you fall.

Bold, red lips parted and a voice as young and sparkling as chimes filled the air………

“Some day my prince will come.
Some day I’ll find my love.
And how thrilling that moment will be
When the prince of my dreams comes to me!

He’ll whisper, ‘I love you’
And steal a kiss or two.

Though he’s far away,
I’ll find my love some day…
Some day when my dreams come true.”

The little girl smiled at her loving tune and proceeded to make a grass crown as she hummed the song again. Not a moment after her earthy crown was finished, a frantic woman in a tattered dress hurriedly made her way across the field. Tripping several times, in which she would be completely hidden from the girl’s view by the tall grasses, she eventually stood in front of the girl.

“Young Miss!” she shrieked with a large huff. “You know full well what Her Majesty will say if she hears of your little adventures beyond the castle walls!”

The young girl lowered her head to stare at the now dull grass crown in her lap. Whimpering slightly, she whispered, “But Maria…No one notices I’m gone, anyway…” A light sniffle was quickly muffled by small hand.

Maria’s eyes softened as she stared down at the young Princess. Heaving a deep sigh, she gathered her skirts in her hands and plopped herself next to the tearful child. Bringing her into a warm hug, she reminded her, “That is not true, my dear. I am here, am I not?”

The Princess buried her face in Maria’s shoulder and whispered, more to herself than Maria, “Only you, Maria, only you…”

Absentmindedly, Maria ran her lean fingers through the Princess’ many dark strands of hair. “Princess…” she spoke with an almost wistful tone.

The Princess in question lifted her head slightly to pear at her caregiver of many years. “Yes, Maria?” she inquired with a slight sniff to ease her runny nose.

“Could you, perhaps,” Maria paused and tilted her head to the side as she stared intently at a small red ladybug who was currently making her way up Maria’s simple, brown shoes, “Could you, perhaps, sing the little melody you were singing before, once again?”

Shining azure eyes stared up at the woman in shock before slowly softening and glancing at the forest at the edge of the clearing. A peaceful smile played along her deep, crimson lips as she seemingly sang to both Maria and the mysterious forest.

“Some day my prince will come.
Some day we’ll meet again.
And away to his castle we’ll go
To be happy forever, I know.

Some day when spring is here,
We’ll find our love anew.
And the birds will sing
And wedding bells will ring,
Some day when my dreams come true…”

As her song slowed to a mere hum, Maria rested her puzzled gaze upon the small Princess in her lap. “’Some day we’ll meet again’?”

The Princess giggled, “Why, of course. Again.” Abruptly jumping out of her friend’s hold, she twirled around to face the looming trees not far away. A playful wink was thrown at the forest before she giggled merrily once more before dashing towards the castle. Maria gave a startled cry and promptly ran after her little mistress.

Just on the outskirts of the field, a young boy hid discreetly behind a  large and old oak tree. Having watched the Princess for some time and having listened to her song, he smiled secretively before whispering his own song into the wind.

“One song,
I have but one song.
One song,
Only for you…

One love
That has possessed me.
One love
Thrilling me through…”

I’m a Harry Potter lover and, naturally, I’m going to see Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince on Wednesday. I had told my mom a while ago that I was going to see it on “Wednesday, July the 15th”. Closer to the date, I told her again and, somehow, it was misunderstood that I was going to see it on AUGUST 15th, rather than JULY 15th since we have an event on the same day in August.

After buying the ticket in advanced at the machine, without even looking at the date, my mother said she’d hold onto it until the day of. She come storming in about ten minutes ago, ticket in hand, and asks me to explain why it’s in July and not August.

Stupid question? Very.

We finally sorted out the misunderstanding and she blames me for not reminding her. As she said, if it is not important to her, she will not remember it. The time the misunderstanding took pace, she took the wrong date and held onto that, completely ignoring anything else I said for the remainder few weeks until this day.

So, I’m horrible with dates. I’m sorry.

She doesn’t seem to realize that she clearly said that she doesn’t listen to me at all. As well, she continuously reminds me that I’m “sixteen and should remember to remind” her.

Isn’t she the one that always says, “You are old enough to remember dates”? Well then why does she blame me when SHE can’t remember dates?!

She continued on and on, on how horrible I am with remembering dates and that I need to grow up. Meanwhile, I’m practically killing the touchpad of my laptop as I deepen the pressure of my fingers in a sorry attempt to not hit something or start shouting.

The thing I hate the most? After all the shit she gives me, she has the nerve to ask me, “What? What’s with the blank face?!”

The blank face, my dear, is my way of stopping myself from blowing up. And trust me, you don’t want to see that.

You wouldn’t believe how sinister I can be in my own mind. It’s like I’m a completely different person compared to when I am speaking to people. I make cruel remarks and say things that I would never even dream of saying to someone. I’m actually cold and reserved in my mind.

Is it to make up for the lack of that side of me in the real world? Who knows.

This link sends you to a video on Youtube.com that I really liked with the Vocaloids singing their song. This link sends you to another video with the same song, but actual people are singing the Vocaloids’ parts. I’m not sure if they are the people whose voices were used for these Vocaloids or not, but it is probably since they sound incredibly alike.

I have written down the lyrics from the second video since they seem to be much clearer compared to the rest that I have found. The meaning, of course, is the same in every video of this song. I have written the name of who the character is that is singing (or speaking). In the original, no one does the introduction. Rather, it is just writing and is silent (as shown in the first video).

Here we go: Alice,Human Sacrifice with Meiko, Kaito, Miku, Rin, Len (Rin/Len)

[Meiko] There was once a little dream.
[Kaito] No one knows who dreamt it.
            Such a truly small dream…

[Miku] This made the little dream think,
            "I do not want to disappear…"
            "How can I make people dream me?"

[Rin] The little dream thought and thought
         And at last had an idea.

[Len] "I will make people come to me,
           And they will make my world…"

~~~~~~~~

[Meiko] The first Alice was a gallant red one,
              Wielding a sword in one hand, entered the wonderland.
              Cutting cutting down everything in her way,
              She was followed by a bloody red path.

[Meiko] This new Alice, deep in the woods,
              Was trapped like a criminal inside.
              If it weren’t for the red path that she made
              No one would even know of her existence.

[Kaito] The second Alice was a fragile blue one.
             He sang to the world in the wonderland.
             Filling regions with so many false created notes,
             He created a mad blue world.

[Kaito] This new Alice was that of a rose.
             He was shot and killed by a mad man.
             It left a flower blooming sadly red.
             The one who was loved was now forgotten.

[Miku] The third Alice was a little green one.
            Very cute and dear in the wonderland.
            She charmed people to her every beck and call.
            She had made a strange green country.

[Miku] This new Alice was the country’s queen.
            Taken over by a distorted dream,
            She was afraid of losing to death.
            She would forever rule her country.

[Rin] During this, two children went into the woods.
[Len] They had a tea party under rose trees.
[Rin] An invitation from the castle for them was
[Len/Rin] The Trump Card of Hearts.

[Rin/Len] The fourth Alice was twin siblings.
                 Their curiousity [found them] in the wonderland.
                 Going through many different doors,
                 Coming not too long ago in a yellow boat.

[Rin] The stubborn big sister,
[Len] The smart little brother,
[Rin/Len] Though they were the closest to Alice’s Wonderland…

[Rin/Len] They were never woken from their deep dreaming.
                  Forever they wandered in the wonderland.

I just finished watching the Michael Jackson memorial with my parents on television. That had to have been one of the most heart-felt things I have ever watched in my life, to date.

Right from the beginning when I saw the broadcasting on television of how everyone thought that he was dead in Los Angeles and was transported to the nearest hospital. Quite frankly, I couldn’t believe it. I mean, Michael Jackson; dead? Impossible. It’s Michael Jackson! Obviously, anything can happen.

If what the rumours are saying is true, I’m at least glad he died while he was asleep, rather having something like a stroke, in which case he would feel the pain.

As I watched his memorial, I realized just how… Grand he was. Grand as in… Powerful, I suppose. The magnitude of his fans and their overwhelming feelings for him. I don’t even think HE realized just how much influence he has on the world. I remember one of the reporters said that an article from England said that there were three people that EVERYONE in the world knew: Her Majesty The Queen of England, The Pope and Michael Jackson.

And it’s true. Billions of people know him and love him, despite what was said about him. I, personally, don’t think he did the things people said he did, but we will never know, now will we?

My parents were bawling throughout the entire three hours of the memorial. I didn’t until the end, where young Paris decided she had something to say. I had been watching the kids every time they appeared somewhere on the screen and it seemed like Paris was the one that was most affected by it all.

When she started crying, I couldn’t help but cry with and for her. It’s true: there wasn’t a dry eye in that house.

Ever since I was born… Daddy has been the best father you could ever imagine… I just want to say I love him so much!

We know, Sweetheart. We know.

Rest in Peace, Michael Joseph Jackson.

It would appear to most people that I have opened up to a few of my friends already. I disagree, though. To my friends at my high school, I am an innocent, sweet, kind, intelligent and trustworthy girl. They even believe me to be childish at certain points. I’m the type they’d love to tease playfully, yet feel protective over as well.

Truth be told, I’m doing this on purpose. Or I believe I am. To a certain extent, I am partly who they see me as. Usually these are the times that I wouldn’t give to just have a blank face. It’s tiring to keep an energetic, happy, oblivious, sweet, innocent and child-like face when you are anything but. No one has seen past it yet, and I’m thankful. What would they think if they knew I wasn’t that exciting? If I wasn’t that happy? If I had all of these cynical thoughts? If I was lying to not only them, but myself? They’d probably hate me for it.

Which is why I’m keeping up the charades.

I’ve been here for a year and I haven’t opened up, yet. Even last year during my first year of high school (at my other high school), I didn’t show my true colours and I was there for a full year as well. I can’t get past the select few friends I still have from elementary school. It’s pretty sad if you think about it.

I’m already sixteen, since my birthday just passed on the 14th, and am going into grade eleven come September. Yet, I’m still playing Pretend.

I don’t know where I got this image from, to be honest. In my last school, I was somewhat like I was in grade seven and eight; shy, calculating, serious.  Now? I’ve set up a whole new image; cutesy, innocent, happy, childish. Where it came from, I have no idea.

I’ve even been teaching myself as I interact with them as the more Cutesy me. I’ve learned what to say, how to say it and when. I’ve learned when to laugh, when to giggle and how to seem embarrassed. I’ve even managed to create a smile that could pass off as completely innocent.

Why did I chose such an unfamiliar character? A challenge? This can’t be the real me, can it? I wouldn’t be writing this if it was. Right?

It’s confusing.