Ex Nihilo

We Are The World

In 1985, Michael Jackson arranged a bunch of artists to sing a song to Africa. I don’t know why, but I assume that something happened and they needed support.

…
This year, in 2010, there was an earthquake in Haiti. Michael was unable to arrange the artists this time around, since he’s long since dead, but in his memory and to help support Haiti, they did the same song again, with artists from me and Gina’s era. my god, its amazing. Especially the rap part.

Some Pictures That I Mutilated

I had a good old time in CompuPic Pro last night, and I felt like sharing. You should look and be amazed.

Nightvision:

Ghastly:

Old Photo:

Pretty neat, right? Well, I thought so anyway. I enjoyed making these, and you can probably find more pics like this if you look in my Icons folder or my Other folder, which are both in my Pictures Folder, under Backup. Well, that’s it for tonight, folks. By the way, I’m gonna be sick tomorrow… just thought I should tell you!

The Best Thing Ever

Those of you who haven’t seen Hetalia will still get it. You can probably guess who’s in that window.

Beloved Sister of Mine

Even as I watch, I can feel the tingling, bubbling sensation in my heart. My head feels light, I could fly. She is smiling at me, thanking me for the drink. A strawberry smoothie; her favorite.
I wave off her thanks, telling her that ‘it’s nothing’, and head upstairs to my room.
Dear Diary, I write in my head, thinking over the entry before I even have the book out, I couldn’t tell you how much I love her. She is always there for me; she has stolen my heart without even asking! I, however, do not mind in the least. If I wanted to give away my love, she would be the one I would want to give it to.  She is my most precious person.
I am writing now, wondering if I could imitate her pretty handwriting, her lovely signature. I try. I fail.
I don’t really mind; if I and she were the same, I would not love her, because I would be able to see all of our flaws.
She is self-conscious, she doesn’t like herself, she degrades the perfection that is herself. I wish she would stop; I don’t see these imperfections, these tiny flaws that she hates with a passion, and I do not understand why they bother her so much. Why can she not just see what is HER? Why can’t she just see herself for who she is? I love her so much, but nothing I say can express to her what I feel when she is angry with herself.
It’s painful to see someone so perfect see themselves as something so ugly. It is miserable, for both of us. I wish that I could show her the beauty of HER. I wish I could prove to her that she is not ugly, but the purest, more beautiful thing this Earth will ever see.
My sister, why must you hate yourself so?
Because, dearest younger, if I loved all in the world, how could I be called human?
But why, my love, must you choose yourself to be the one that you despise? Why can’t it be someone else? Someone more deserving of such loathing as you bestow upon yourself? Why, isn’t there someone else in this world that you could hate? There must be! I will find someone for you to direct your hatred towards… just please don’t be this way to yourself.
It pains me so to see such a lovely creature burdened and sullied by mere feelings of consciousness. To see her breaking herself down to the barest of herself, just to find the flaws.
Beloved sister of mine, how I love you so. I wish that we could be together forever… Nothing in this world could amount to the feeling I have towards you. I love you, I hate you, I feel everything about you. I wish that we could be together, but alas, we must be apart.
Dearest Regina,
I love you. How I wish that I could show you how perfect you are.

Labyrinth

Oh my God, somebody help me!
It’s 3:14 in the afternoon, and all I can think about it sleep. I walk through the labyrinth, hoping that maybe I’ll be able to find the place where they keep the food. It’s been months, weeks, years, since I’ve been nourished like a human being. Forever since I’ve had contact with the outside world. An eternity since I’ve been alive.
My body is thin and fragile, and my heart is always is always beating faster that normal. It consistently feels like I’m going to have a heart attack. I don’t know why I’m here, or what I did that would make anyone hate me so much, but I’m tired of trying to escape.
At this point, I just wander, hoping that maybe I’ll find a morsel of something to eat, or maybe a rock that I can sharp to perfection for suicide. It’s scary though, because not only am I in a labyrinth, but I can’t talk, and I can’t see very well. The world around me is dark and blurry, and my voice refuses to make a sound. I can’t even cry properly anymore.
I’m tired. I’m really tired, and I don’t know when this nightmare will ever end.
I hear something. A door opening? As I look up, my vision is cleared, and a beautiful angel is floating towards me, extended a hand. I reach up to grasp it, praying that this is the end.
Her chest explodes with a spray of blood, and she screams in agony as she falls to the ground. Within seconds, she is dead. A window opened, and then slammed down on my hands.
I wish they would let me wake up.
Is this even a nightmare?