"Love is a much more vicious motivator"

tiny piece of fiction inspired by the quote "Love is a much more vicious motivator"--BBC Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes
_________________________________________________________________________________

"I'm going to kill you."

The dramatic tensions of staged play is killing her, even if the silences are too lengthy and quiet. There's a mix of macabre and irony within her words-- she doesn't know how she actually manages that, but the lines were written for her.

They were meant for her.

Somehow, though, she figures that little improvisations here and there wouldn't hurt. But the scriptwriter insists that this is the way the world works. This is the way the plot unfolds. This is the way her story starts, continues, falls, ends.

"I'm going- I'm going to kill you."

She falters with an accented anxiety, experimenting with the look of a bereaved child. While she can paint the crime scene of a haste murder, the culprit remains a mere patch of words. There is no life in the kill. Her culprit's a mere figurine or symbol of utter vacancies within the flawed manual of constructive set-up kills.

"I'm gonna kill you."

Dark comedy. A tinge of bitterness that'll induce laughter from the audience, all right. She can see through the psychological uncertainties of this culprit.

"I'm going to kill you."

Yes.

This is the one; she's taken her pick.

"I'm going to tear you down with sweet favours and whisper little nothings into your ears, promising you everything. You're gonna believe me. I'm gonna leave you longing for more, all defenses down. I'm going to lick you up, every last shred of dignity. I'm gonna leave you begging for more. I'm gonna leave you boiling in lust."

Her plan is simple, and so intricately complex at the same time.

"And then I'm going to leave you alone."

Love. Definitely a much more motivating factor.

one-shot on Johnlock~ :D

I should be getting on with exhibition research and crap but I'm not in the mood to examine every single line of Edgar Allan Poe's lovely scholarly poem.

Chews on mango pudding.
I like pudding.

Now I shall gather something from my !nspiration box!
And hopefully it won't be crap.

Conditions:
"Everything linked up to one big shit of a mistake"

... how emo was I when I wrote this condition.

HERE IS BEGINS!~~~~~~~ warning: ANGST, JOHNLOCK (slight hints of homosexuality)

Today was April's fool. Silly girl.

Four poems, each a lie.

((words are like ethanol.
teasingly so-
and then once they're done flirting with you,
they go away.
evaporate, leaving no traces behind-
not at all.))

and in the end
we're all april's fool.
trapped in the summer heat-(or is it spring,autumn, winter)
jumping around in imaginary seasons
that put a slight spring (spring!) to our steps
and yet the heat presses down on us again.

time gently accentuates our features-
painting blemishes and little etchings over
our faces and
arms and
beautiful varicose legs and
our whitened--frizzy hair.

and in the end
we're nothing but white
white bones that break and
creak under
pressure of gravity.
-and under ground too-

A poem about Mary-Sues. From the "Inspiration" drawer.

It's been long since I've done anything productive.

So there. I shall pick out something from my "!nspiration" box aaaannnddddd.

._____________.

WHUT.

Conditions:

• write a poem
• about Mary-Sues
• Genre is fantasy
• There must be no sarcasm
• Use these words: "stickers" and "crab"

O.O

Do I have to?

Mary-Sue 

Mary-Sue, Mary-Sue,

all stickers and all lovely beaus.

Shall we eat steak, I moo'ed.

But fluffy ponies are so beautiful, too!

This poem makes no sense,

Oh but Mary-Sue's great at defense

Even though she's not worth ten cents--

On a totally random topic, whales jump over fences.

Mary-Sue, Mary-Sue, 

Oh how you do burn, ravishing like ponies too!

Tell me how you avoid crabs, please do.

And sip some tea while I boo!

Conclusions are always so hefty,

Even as Mary-Sue judges so fairly,

Eating a cheescake with some berries,

I'm suspecting my mind's sanity.

~END~

THAT BURNS.

IT WAS HORRIBLE.

WHY DID I EVEN WRITE THOSE CONDITIONS?

Why. So. Serious.

I fear growing up, because then, people change.

Change a lot. A lot.

So much that they paint up acrylic ((masks)) of their own desires and plaster it onto their own -ugly- faces.

It has been fashion, ever since, to find -maturity- and dab it onto lips
                                                                                                       
{and smack those glossy lips with s.a.t.i.s.f.a.c.t.i.o.n, letters of praise stringing together}

And then to don a suit of **elegance**--wrapped up in all ~ribbons~

But they often lose their true selves-- which are in fact, h
                                                                        a
                                                                            n
                                                                               g
                                                                                  i
                                                                                    n                                
                                                                                      g by a few
==strands== of childish dreams.

No one ever returns to find them, for they are stuck too     ↓  
                                                                            ↓
                                                                      ┘DEEP┌
 in the masquerade of #perfection#

Goodbye, world.
[where $money$ is more ^important^ than the factors of TxRxUxTxH]

If you wish to look for me, I'll be @t platform ¾

Stalker Diaries

YESH I HAS COMPLETED IT.
Okay, so I realised that I haven't been doing any writing (writer's block is attacking, stronger than ever).
So I'm just trying. :D yayyayyayyay
Gosh, I hate writer's block. It just seeps into your brain. It's made me fear my fanfiction now. T.T

Light disclaimer:
I no stalk anyone. It just seemed... interesting to try and write from a stalker's point of view (no offence to stalkers out there! :D)
because I don't have the time and I get tired of things really easily. :D
Ellie, I has completed mai 'stalker story', you?

Now, if you dislike very crazily obsessive people ranting about how they stalk people, then do not click for more pencil shavings. :D

♫♫♫ ♥ 066s5c 5s f6r the s643 ♥ ♫♫♫

H5!  5 have dec5ded t6 ty*e 5n c6de beca4se 5 352e 5t and...

5t's rea33y rather f4n, what say y64+


b4t 06st 6f 5t 5s rea33y, rea33y easy t6 f5g4re 64t.  ☺y64 d6n't say+

n6w, n6w, y64 0ay th5n2 why 6n earth 5 a0 d65ng th5s, b4t 5t's rea33y 14st f6r enterta5nt0ent *4r*6ses. *rec5se3y, 5 a0 rather... we5rd ☻☺☻☺☻☺☻☺☻ 0ay we a33 35ve 5n har06ny! *eace t6 the w6r3d!

♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫


Yay, now I have been magically revived...

Yesh, there will be no more failed codings!

I shall speak in-- hopefully-- good English and present to you my upcoming play.

Why, I am indeed feeling rather egoistic right now. :D
That is never a good sign, but oh, what can I do?
/egomoment/

I have really no idea what my new play is going to be called, but it may be a little crude and offending.
/stares around furtively/

Hm, but let's have a look at how it's like till now.

Cutscenes:

♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫

MICHAELA

What? Oh, hello, Mason.

MASON [swiftly grabs the cigarette from CATHY]

Oh, hello there. You know it isn't good for you, Cathy.

CATHY

Since when did you give a damn about me? Give me back the damned cigarette you--

MASON

What will it be this time? "Moronic idiot"? That still sounds hilarious.

CATHY [mumbling]

Filthy mongrel.

 ♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫

MINDY

Aunt Caaaaaathy!

CATHY

What now, Min-Min? And I'm not deaf.

MINDY [scowls]

No more calling me that! Where's Daddy?

CATHY [in a subdued voice]

Killing people.

[aloud]

Oh, he's working.

♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫

Okay, that's it.

I can't reveal any more of the failure-of-a-play  them because it would spoil the whole plot and they aren't really... sensitive parts so it should be okay! :D

/realises what I said/

oh...

/shudders/

I hope that doesn't mean that the rest of the failure-of-a- play is... censored...

...

oh what have I done.

/ego crushed/

Iridescent

Below is what I wrote for school before. And lo and behold, I have just posted it! :D


The topic was "Iridescent" and I fell in love with the word immediately [without knowing its exact meaning] :)


Enjoy! (or get ready a bucket to puke into)
_________________________________________________________________________________


Iridescent

She takes interest and it stems into an obsession. The invisible spirits plant a simple idea in the depths of her mind, it was a motivation that spurred her on.

Aveline loves everything bright and colourful, especially variety bursting at its peak. Fascination streams about her in nifty strokes, capturing her attraction for the rainbow. It is iridescent, displaying a splay of wild, bold colours that blot her mind with hues of the rainbow. It streaks across her mind in a blistering fever, fuelling her addiction. She sees the world as a prism, the colours at their majestic moments, flitting around the world, painting and dabbing away at the monotony of life. 

They swish around-- lofty wishes that awaken her greed. Those voices are haunting her, running a hypnotic loop around her mind. 

Her fingers swipe across another work, crayon marks swirling into a puddle of illusion. They form lines at first, solitary, before gradually merging and exploring different lands. The lines are jagged, yet smooth, forming a spiral that never ends. She loses herself within the enthralling strokes, as they—the crooked lines-- continue mumbling hoarse incantations. They are dancing, starting out with slow and elegant steps, meant to impress upon first sight. But as the pattern forms, their steps start out sophisticated and rapid, capturing her attention. They rush out a frenzied tempo, bringing her heart into a burst of ecstasy.

The enchantment has worn off, bringing her back to the monochromatic world once more. The voices are worn-out, disappointment lacing their words. Yet their grins widen as they toy with her heartstrings, tugging mercilessly on her greed.

A murmur of appreciation falls from her lips, revealing the awe and desperation behind her words.  It forms a whirlpool of exhilaration in her mind, leaving her heart pounding, overwhelmed with desire and longing. They tempt her once more, slyly fingering her heart (they brush gently against the veins and artilleries, musing tiny circles upon them--drawing a reaction of gushing adrenaline) and showing illusions that her glazed-over eyes reflect. 

'Wouldn't it be nice if the world were iridescent? Thriving over a splay of colours?' they probe, prompting. She nodded with hesitation, gulping. They pat her head reassuringly, their beady eyes narrowing. 

Fresh red started out luscious and seductive, purring as it claimed her heart, the first shade. Following after it was yellow, cheerful and pleasing. It skipped merrily over, wrapping the heart in patterns. The mixture darkened to form orange. Vibrant and passionate, the sparks fly upon arrival of the colour before falling down as glittering dust. Green took over in moments, tranquillity smoothing out the creases of excitement caused by the previous colour.  It gingerly pressed its body against the other layers and melted into the mixture as well. Brown sizzled over the edges of the canvas, creeping towards the centre of the art piece. 

Her plan is executed, drawing her breath away. They chuckle at her innocence, awaiting for the grand finale.

The world is nothing but blobs of colours, jumbled together and moulded together. The lines have given way, taken flight. They arch and push, stretching to the limits before finally breaking apart into atoms, drifting in the air, waiting. But that is only the set-up to the climax. Aveline grips onto her desire, faintly chuckling at how her wishes are coming true. Iridescent, the world will become, displaying a nebula eruption, staining the silk of reality with its dye. The colours are fusing, crossing boundaries and blending together. Aveline giggles and shivers with anticipation. 

Another work of art is in progress, unknown to her. Their eyes glint mischievously and their lips, rotting and rancid, curl up in a smirk. 

Pink daintily lands on the paper, grasping onto purple for support. As its older sister nods in encouragement, pink sighs and merges with the other colours. Purple, in its splendour, trickles away bit by bit, splashing silently into the intricate artwork. The two additions darken the coat's colour. Elegant midnight blue stalks upon the painting. It blows gently onto the surface, delighting in the rough and sandy feel of the canvas upon her silky fingers. It sinks into the rotting moor, what with the many decaying souls of its family. 

She should have known. 'Be careful of what you wish for', they sing mockingly, amused at how easily enchanted she was.

Aveline gasps at the horrifying sight. The putrid concoction of the pigments has corrupted the entire world. The black tugs at her shirt, begging and tugging. They smirk upon their lies, coated with agony, pressing against her body. Their fingers, cold and slimy, run up and down her. She shrieks and cowers, covering her face with her hands-- this has never occurred to her.  They coo in hungry and irritated voices, demanding for more additions. Their hunger is insatiable, but there is another horrible ripping. The ink is leaking from her heart, they claw and gnaw at her ribs, every bone they can find. Internal destruction. 

They haunt the last of her memories. 'Didn't you ask for this?' they question, their eyes burning in delight and mock-hurt, relishing at her horror.

The fusion of the colours turned out black. Ironic. Now they are corrupted, sinful and warped. They drip into another world of red and white. Unsatisfied, twisted thoughts blanket them. Gluttons they are, washing over every area and tainting it black. Now, at last, the jigsaw puzzle is complete and the world can rest in total darkness, utter silence. 

Aveline is lost to the real world forever.

The devils sneer and snort at her. It was the simple fascination of the rainbow, yet they fiddled with her mind, tainting each thought dark and twisting it into a warped world of delusion. Poor girl, she never did deserve this, yet she was happy, relishing in her own iridescent mirage then. They licked at every shriek of despair and cheerfully watched her bright vision fade and blackout. The nightmares she gave them were remarkable and appealing. All they did was to give her a little push, plant that seed in her innocent mind and she took it upon herself to develop it, nurture that seed.
Her entertaining actions (for she was a mere plaything) proved noteworthy and it satisfied their hunger for more pain, torture-- for now. Yet it also brought things to a new height as they glide about in the air, far high above, searching for another curious mind to explore and experiment.

Alice Apocalypse, Chapter 3

Her fingers weave into each other. Sure, they used to dream in colours, fantasies soaring, unbidden songs painting a mirage upon her stark, putrid soul.
Her fingers ache to tear away the canvas, taunting, haunting but yet so true. So true it makes her cry. Her fingers sift through the years, the memories compiled into a scrapbook that yellow with each lie that lolls about in her mouth. They are tearing apart, breaking down, drifting away with the wind. She can no longer remember Eden.

"Nox, I'm in Nox." she whispers to herself, reassuringly.

The chant has become a string, a delicate-oh,so-fragile thread between reality and desire. Her mantra, her lifejacket to keep her safe from the clutches of despair. No, she will not fall prey to envy. She will not coat her lips with the syrupy taste of jealousy. She will not remember Eden, she will not know of the happiness--there was nothing to be thought about of Eden, it was nothing but a place too far away for her to reach out for. A place for idealists, perfection, beauty-- nothing for her. Eden and Nox were words too different, like the like poles of a magnet (alike, in the aspect that only the most extreme superlatives can be used to describe them). Repel, repel away the thoughts, shoo away the emotions.

"Puppet, frayed, ugly, bitter. I don't deserve emotions. I don't, I don't." The blunt words pierce at her heart, but this is the truth.

She remembers The Casting.

"You don't belong here, you never will."

"Disgusting child, oh what have we done to deserve such devil?"

"Her heart. It's black. Her eye, it rebels."

"Don't look into her eye, sweetheart. It's a mirror."

"It's a curse, a curse."

"My Alice ! AliceohAlice with the beautiful eyes."

"She's nothing but a danger, her eyes, they rebel against our common rules!"

"Mom?"

"Away with her!" 

"Alice, Alice, don't. Don't leave me!"

"Mom, I don't. No! Let me go!"

"You are naught but ugliness herself, your left eye, a curse. Banished to Nox, you will be! Monster!"

"Alice, my dear Alice. Don't let them take you away."

"I'm not a monster!"

"UGLY!"

"Shut up!"

"MONSTER!" 

"I'm not a monster."

"GO AWAY! NO ONE LIKES YOU!"

"I'm not a monster. I'm not."  

She left for Nox, even before The Casting. In the darkness of the night, she left. Comforting silence engulfed her and she never saw the need to hear those derogatory terms. She was a monster of the night, a monster of Nox.

"Alice, you have to know that your eye is a blessing." her mother pats her head.

"I wish I were blind."

"Alice!"

"That way I wouldn't have to see their eyes and look at mine in the mirror. Oh wait, my left eye is a mirror, right? Just good enough for me to peer in the dimmed light in Nox, isn't it?"

"Alice." 

"I know. My left eye is a mirror. A devil, they say. The cards on the table do nothing but condemn me."

Alice flips her hand over to reveal the imprint of The Joker on her palm.

"Alice!"

Silence.

A joker symbolizes a loner, forever to be hidden in the shadows, to be avoided. Alice the Joker, she thought wryly. The name did seem to suit her.

But yes, there was no happiness in Eden, there was nothing, except the sprinkling of salt over her wounds. 

Alice gingerly picks up the papers, stares at the scribbles once more. She stares at a drawing of Aurelia and her. Alice's fringe is long, too long. It covers her left eye. Aurelia merely grins and nudges Alice. Aurelia was the first to know her secret. She was also the first to tell it.

''Aurelia?"

"Yes, Alice?" Aurelia smiles, looking up at Alice.

Alice shuffles her feet.

"I have a secret."

The word lures Aurelia in, as she tugs on Alice's hand.

"What is it?" she mumbles, excited.

Alice pushes her fringe away and anxiously beams.

Aurelia falls back, shocked.

"Devil," Aurelia calls, disregarding their friendship.

Alice pauses in motion, letting her fringe drop back to cover her eye. 

Devil. Aurelia called her a devil. Devil.

Alice stares hard at Aurelia's sketchy drawing. The lines seem to unscramble themselves to form a word. Devil. She wishes she could remember the happy moments in Eden, let the feeling of joy wash over her [for once in such a long time]. But there is nothing. Alice rethinks.

"The first time I got my flower."

It is blank.

"I received chocolates."

Blank, still.

"Rolling in the grass!"

Nothing.

"Singing with the choir!"

Blank, Empty. Nothing. Black. Fuzzy.

"You're nothing but a monster. Ugly, pathetic. You don't deserve Eden. You don't deserve anything."

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Oh what is this I don't even.

T.T 

I was planning on writing to complete another chapter of Alice Apocalypse but it came out in tatters.

Oh, I'll just publish it and watch as you squirm in horror at the nonsensical stuff.

~o~

Acrophobia--Fear of Heights and a little waffle

An unbidden image arose in her mind.

A monochromatic world, the tiny dots that stained the canvas of her thoughts. They were so miniature, so small. She felt too big, looking down upon all of them. The ledge was reshaping, closing in into a compact area. So painfully tight, so painfully worrying. There was just a fleck of dust to stand on, but her weight was going to make it crack. She was going to fall. The mist clouded over her mind, tracing and retracing a single word that haunted her peace.

She felt her finger slide desperately, gliding across the air, cutting into the breeze swirling around her. Her fingers fumbled over the specks of dust that lolled around, drifting gleefully around the air, thick and lazy. Slender and pale, they opened and closed, as though trying to catch what little ray of glittering sunlight there was in her hands.There was nothing to hold on to, nothing, nothing.

Nothing.


She gasped, the contraction of her lungs, as though a hand had cupped over her throat and wrung the life out of her. It was hard to breathe, so hurtfully hard to breathe. It was impossible to suck in just one small gulp of air-- her muscles were losing control. Paralysed, in mid-air. Her heart thumped, palpitated, and threw itself countless times over the thick walls that was keeping it from escape.

escape-- what a sweet word.


Just one step back, back onto solid, firm ground. If only she could lift up the stumps of her legs, if only she could leap... The muscles in her fingers flexed. As she squinted over her shoulder, it was to her horror and its cheer that the ground was so far away. The gravel was inching away, increasing the distance between them.

There was an invisible feather upon her legs-- tickling them mercilessly with a mocking laugh. She was floating, held up by stronger forces, the wind whipping against her face. Their hands brushed past her bangs, pulling them back gently but firmly. They slid their cool fingers up and down her arms, gleefully asking,

"Can you see now? Can you?"

She shook her head, but all she could manage was a tilting of her head to the left, then right. There was nothing to see, even as her fear's hands peeled her eyes open and purred for her to see the world laid out beneath her. Her shoes, red and pointed, were huge. And she felt as though she was stomping on all those little atoms, splintered into single blocks of life, exploding and then reforming, the cycle of life repeating. She shifted her weight to the other foot, but then paused. What if she were to roll off and fall?

"I don't want to fall," she whispered in a muted prayer. "Don't, don't, don't let me fall. Someone. Someone."

sifted through all of my blog posts and realised that most of the writings there are crapcrapcrap.
=3= bleh. i feel so ashamed. *hides in corner*

but hopefully, hopefully, i have made some progress from those fluffy fluffy fluffy crap :D

because... beauty is in the eye of the beholder. 

i'm wondering whether to upload the draft copy of 'iridescent' that i wrote for school =3=

Fear of the month (April)

A

Acrophobia--fear of heights

Ablutophobia-- fear of bathing, washing or cleaning

Anthropophobia --type of social fear (fear of people)

All these were chosen through a fruit machine :D

Let's start writing~ :D

Even tho I say it's "Of the Month", it may be irregular :D

tralalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala

Musings --absence of oxygen

And the absence of oxygen is nothing more than a muted silence, falling into an abyss of darkness where flickering fireflies dance about.

The mere breath that shoots across the onyx backdrop of wishes, landing as sparks that struggle to return to the adventure of thrill and wonder.

Sinking is but a desire to fallfallfall and never resurface to face the merry-go-round of life.

just close your eyes, the sun is going down

Nothing much to be said about the bunny that's acting like a boss *points up*

Sigh... what have I gotten myself into? 

Writing a poem/prose about 'Iridescent'?

Adding onto another list of things I need to write?

And the best part? I can't resist the urge to take up all of these challenges because it's just so addictive. Helium, I empathise with you!  d >w<||| b

I no own the picture, only the slight editing, which was just to add the words on.

Another burst of inspiration to write about 'Iridescent' but I'm just too exhausted. Sigh.

Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift is echoing in my ears now. Ah, sweet, sweet music. 

I want to read the Hunger Games, but I feel as though I should distance myself from books for the moment.

Just finished 空之镜 and it took me about five to six days. 

It's really nice and thrilling, even with the 繁体字, which kind of put me off...

I'm glad I chose this book over the other romance novels.

Ah, I still fear mirrors. But the reference to mirrors and revealing another flaw in the human's mind? Definitely awe-inducing.

I'm starting on 尤今 soon, and from what peeps have told me,

I'm confident it'll be an interesting read. 

Haha, I haven't been reading Agatha Christie for a long time. I think I'll find other historical fictions to read, or just go along with fanfictions. :)

I'll need to rest in order for that wicked (truly, wicked) burst of energy to seize me and start penning (or rather, typing?) down my thoughts.

Get ready, for Ollie-domination. 

ROFL XD

Musings --Sadly, yes.

Happy leap-year-day.

Sigh, so much to do and yet I'm slacking off. Well, it's my resting period before I put on my armor and charge mindlessly at the stack of homework.

... There's so much to write. For ES, I have to submit either a poem, prose or any other kinds of writing for the Montage edition. And sadly, it will get booted out by the editorial team. Helium's so awesome, she'll get in for sure. It'll be fun to see what she writes. :D

Also, there's this kind of competition thingy that requires us to write, every class has to have two participants. I don't know what to write, and it has to revolve around a certain strange word... That, will be a challenge.

Also the FPSP, it will be interesting, but I am a little afraid of the outcome. Will it work? I mean, it sounds so addictive, yet with a hint of difficulty within. How can I express my character's thoughts when they are muses and when I'm in charge of keeping the secret until the end?

Three writings. Deadlines. Dramatic tension.

... I'll try my best.

Ollie can do it! ^^

Collide

The dawn is breaking
A light shining through

What seems to be daylight,

Or is it the end of the tunnel,

We've walked for so long,

Our thirst for light and hope makes us desperate,

You're barely waking
And I'm tangled up in you
Yeah

Are you ignorant of the many times

I have stared so longingly at you,

The times we walked through the darkness

With your hand in mine?

I don't know what to think now.

It hurts,

Your piercing smile of happiness

That doesn't reach to your hollowed eyes.

I'm open, you're closed
Where I follow, you'll go
I worry I won't see your face
Light up again

Flash.

"We won't get out, will we?" I hear you say, slowly and softly.

I imagine a fear, a certain panic that was hidden behind your hoarse voice. But there was nothing at all, not even sadness. You were lost, your shoulders drooping, your head hung low. I could feel the stir of emotions rushing through you, as you masked it all with a cold, unfeeling face. I grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

"No, we will get out of here. We have to," I smiled, though you wouldn't see it, not in this darkness.

You shrugged, the very actions taking up a lot of your energy. What happened to you?

"C'mon. Let's hurry."

I literally dragged you over, trying to add a new spring in my steps, but you merely trudged along. You lost everything, your vigour, your smile, your cheerful attitude and the smile that I knew, that was so warm that it practically radiated the whole room you were in. I was afraid of losing the you I knew, your bubbly personality. Now you were a mere skeleton, with hollow eyes. I didn't want to lose you. No, never. With a desperate attempt, I squeezed your hand, as though it would squeeze some of the life back in you. I panicked, fear mocking at my very pathetic attempts.

Please. Smile again. 

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills my mind
I somehow find
You and I collide

"I'm not going to do it." I heard you speak, your uncertainty shaking your voice.

"You'll have to." I tried to put as much confidence as I could into my words.

"No. You can do it alone. I'll just drag you down."

"It was a mistake, just one tiny mistake!"

"You could have died at my failure."

"Don't be so melodramatic, please."

"I don't know," you sobbed.

I left the room, not knowing how to comfort you. Guilt tugged at my heart.

I'm quiet you know
You make a first impression
I've found I'm scared to know I'm always on your mind

I don't like to talk too much, you see. I'll say something wrong every time I open my mouth. You popped out of nowhere, into my strange and ordinary life. You made a great impression, your radiant smile that shone, piercing through the darkness. It made me smile, shivering at the same time. Was I really worthy of such a friend like you? I didn't know. I didn't want to think. I just wanted to bask in the warm smile that you gave me the first time we met.

We soon became great friends, but somehow I started doubting myself, having doubts about myself, if I really deserved you. You were really a great friend. I found myself analysing each and every movement or word that I did or spoke, hoping you wouldn't see through my lies. Pathetic. I wished you wouldn't have high expectations of me.

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the stars refuse to shine
Out of the back you fall in time
I somehow find
You and I collide

Don't stop here
I lost my place
I'm close behind

I don't want to end this. Not now.

I know I'm not good enough, but I'll change! I'll do anything!

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills your mind
You finally find
You and I collide

You finally find
You and I collide
You finally find
You and I collide

Too late.

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This is my opinion on the song, Collide by Howie Day. It's really nice, but a little sad, in my opinion. Haha. I love this song. It just made me want to write about it. I hope my writing didn't suck. :D