A Blog of Nothingness.

Because I feel small and petty and insubstantial in the grand scheme of things, holed up in my home, as such; a skinny girl and I am singing to the rain.

I was supposed to draw Lucy at Starbucks today, but it got cancelled. She dreams of Percival on most nights, but he never spares her a glance. I am drawn to those kinds of stories.

It's the weather and the perhaps dim yellow lights in the room that brings out the pain.

Today my sister bought me ice cream, and it's a little bubble of memory that floats in and out among the sheets. I try hard to remember the taste, but I forget what happiness tastes like.
Especially when it rains.

School is a looming doom-cloud, in any weather. Bartholomew gave me a hug, and in that moment everything feels okay.