We have recently received word from an anonymous source that you have a Sister Complex. After investigating, we have discovered that you miss your sister so much that you cry, and sometimes sob, when you think about her, Regina, who isn’t home at the moment. We have also learned that you have fallen in love with your sister, and would willingly become an item with her if she would have you.

You have been diagnosed as a Type 8 Sister Complex on the Ghetto scale. In order to further research the development of such a high ranking Sister Complex, we will be facilitating you as soon as possible. We will be breaking into your house and raiding your room to find you. Please don’t hide, or we may have to resort to using your sister to draw you out. The date of our exact arrival is yet unknown, so please don’t hold your breath.

Sincerely,

The Official Sister Complex Research Facility and Society of the United States of America

…

Dear Sister Complex Research Society,

Thanks for the warning, jackass.

Your Truly,

Kimberly Baker

Damn! Too late! Already fell.

I suppose I realized this when he started dating Lauren. I had a feeling of jealousy that pit itself in my stomach, and I suppose its only recently that I’ve actually started flirting interacting with him, and equally recently that I’ve started to want him back.

I’m pathetic.

Well, I can’t help liking someone, so… Too bad he’s not single.

…
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.

And here’s the after Pictures. As you can see, I have no hair.

It’s awesome!!!

Okay, one more, side view!

It was really cool to finally get my hair cut. I’m actually sick right now, but I forced myself to attend school, because I really wanted this cut. And it came out really good! Mr. Bacon likes it too. Also, according to I think Jane or Ms. Monahan (don’t remember, even though it was today) told me that it makes me look a bit older. The women in the cosmetology lab also told me that the cut really fits my face well, so I’m happy.

Plus, Mr. Bacon likes it.

Spencer: …

Tobias: What are you lookin’ at, boy?

Spencer: *looks away* *watches him put wood on the fire that is burning fish hearts and livers* You’re not Raphael…

Tobias: Do I look like Raphael?

Spencer: *Long silence* Thank you for burning those… You’re keeping us safe.

Tobias: … Don’t try to trick me.

Spencer: I would never try to trick you.

Tobias: You’re a liar.

Spencer: I’m not a liar…

Tobias: Lying is a sin.

Spencer: I’m not a liar!

Tobias: This would all be over quickly if you’d just confess your sins.

Spencer: I’m not a sinner.

*Tobias is angrily taking off Spencer’s shoes and socks*

Spencer: Th-the lord sp-spake up to Moses; speak unto all the… the congregation of the children of the lord, and tell them; “Ye shall be holy, for I the lord, your God, am holy.”

Tobias: You know Leviticus.

Spencer: I know every word of the bible. I can recite it for you.

Tobias: … Devil can read too.

Spencer: I’m not a Devil. I’m a man, my name is Spencer Reid, and I have a mother and a father just like you, and they taught me the bible! L-let me just… let me just recite the bible, can I just…

Tobias: It’s time to confess Spencer Reid. *hold up this stick/board thing and prepares to beat Spencer’s foot with it*

Spencer: … *makes a face that would go well with a whimper and squirms*

Tobias: *hits him on the bottom of his foot with the board/log*

Spencer: *YELPS*

Tobias: Confess!

Spencer: *strained* I don’t have anything to confess… *YELPS again as he is hit again*

…

I find it rather fail that I have that ENTIRE FUCKING SCENE MEMORIZED. I kinda hate myself right now. FAIL! I know this scene from start to finish. I know a lot of the details, I have the lines memorized… Yea, I need a life.

So, I got inspiration from the above song, and I though I’d share my results with you. I hope you enjoy this little story thing I wrote. It really says something about my state of mind. Haha.

On the third day of every month, he comes up for a breather. He finds himself in a hot desert, his black suit not helping with the heat. His cool skin bubbles angrily at the sudden feeling of warmth, muscular spasms across his body. He does not like heat; it is probably a cruel joke of his brother’s to make him surface in a desert every month.
On the little finger of his left hand, there is a ring. It’s rather large, a bit heavy, and the design is that of the Star of David. Its rather plain other than that; simple black and silver design. But he likes it, because it is the one other thing that his brother gave him, besides the dark and dank basement of the universe.
He loosens his tie as he clambers into the black mustang, dabbing at the collecting sweat on his forehead with a white handkerchief. He grabs the key, already in the ignition, and turns on his car.
He drives off into the approaching daylight, his greasy black hair hanging limply around his shoulders. The windows are up, no air is flowing. The heat in the car would be unbearable for any normal person, but he is not a normal person.
He has to keep quiet; he has to not make a fuss. He knows for a fact that, if he makes too much noise, he’ll be caught and probably locked up for a couple of days again. Every move is carefully planned out in his mind; every little movement that he makes is all part of a plan.
He’s attending a meeting. All business, and he has to make sure that he doesn’t say much. He has to keep his cool; he has to remain calm at all times. The scent of burning brimstone has filled the car with a sense of home, and the little pine tree that’s supposed to eliminate odors is doing absolutely nothing.
People think they have him all figured out; they think they know what he’s like. They think they know that he’s cunning, and evil, and filled with all the anger and rage of humans.
They’re right, but still… there is a little more to him than anger, fire and brimstone. He is pretty evil, but he isn’t the epitome of it. No, humans are the epitome of evil. He knows this. He made them that way to spite his brother.
That had been a fun time.
He’s more like the epitome of wit. His symbol ought not to be demons and fire, but foxes and fire. If he remembered correctly, there was an internet program called something like “foxfire” or maybe “fire fox.” He didn’t really remember. He didn’t use the internet. He just knew things that mattered to him. If he didn’t, then he asked. Unlike his brother, he was not afraid of his lacking knowledge of everything and anything. He was not nearly as insecure.
Of course, he wasn’t supposed to call his brother “insecure”. It was against the rules.
The rules of the game were simple. Do not disobey, do not insult, do not kill, do not touch the humans.
He and his brother played the game constantly. The Earth was their playing field, and they used the people as their chess pieces. Of course, the game was one sided. The rules didn’t apply to his older brother; the older brother could do whatever he wanted to get rid of the filth that he had lain down on the fresh soil, awaiting the chance to destroy.
His babies… most of them were dead.
So, one ought to be sympathetic with his trials and troubles. There were many of them, after all.
He was flawed, closer to the regular person than his older brother. He was not perfect, he was not beautiful. His hair was black and greasy-looking. His eyes were usually green, but sometimes turned to a more hazel color during the winter. His skin was rather pasty looking, and he bruised easily. He didn’t know everything, and he couldn’t do everything. He wasn’t in control of every aspect of life and death, and he was often ridiculed and punished for mistakes.
And yet, they still called him evil. Perhaps humans believed that flaws and imperfection were the embodiment of impurity and evil. Perhaps they believed that, if one was not beautiful and perfect, then they could not be a ruler, they could not be holy, and they could not have anything.
And yet, they never applied these factors to themselves. How very trite!
So, if one met him, they ought to have some courtesy, have some sympathy, and a bit of taste. He was average, he was not perfect, and even the people ought to be able to se that.
He arrived at his destination, finally. He turned off his car, and clambered out of it, grabbing his suitcase and bringing it with him into the air conditioned building. Floor six, he pressed the buttons on the elevator and waited. An annoying elevator song came on, and he was forced to listen to it as the machinery worked its way up the floors. He reached up a hand and brushed his hair out of his face.
The doors opened, and he exited the small room, his heart beat slowing down. That was another flaw; he was claustrophobic, but that wasn’t his fault. That was his brother’s fault. His wonderful brother loved to lock him in small, cramped rooms when he misbehaved.
Which, by the way, was often.
He walked down the hallway, to the very last door on the left. He could hear the sounds of a dozen elder men talking, plotting huge ways to corrupt their businesses ever further. He was going to be the youngest there, or at least, he was going to look like the youngest there.
He grasped the door knob, turned it, and pushed open the door. The room fell silent as every head in the room turned to see the newcomer. He paid them no mind, walking around the table to the empty seat beside the leader of the meeting, his seat. The one designated for him, inconspicuously labeled with his initials, “L.M.” He sat down, placing the suitcase on his lap and staring at the table silently. He would not allow his gaze to wander around thee room, lingering on the foulest sinners.
He wanted to, but he wouldn’t.
“Who is this?”
The leader of the meeting smiled greedily at him, “He’s our provider,” their leader replied, “He might not look like all that much, but he’s got the cash.”
It was usual.
He paid them, they took the money, and he didn’t leave for at least an hour. He didn’t drink any of the expensive champagne that they had ordered. He didn’t trust them, and he didn’t want to know what the old perverts would do to him if he allowed himself to become intoxicated.
The disgusting scent of smoke filled the room, marijuana and cigarettes being lit all around the room. The fire made him feel a little more at home, but he still wasn’t allowing himself to loosen up. He didn’t dare.
He didn’t know when his brother might decide to drop by, so he had to be prepared.
Out of seemingly nowhere, a hand wrapped around his shoulder. He leaned in the opposite direction. It was time to go. He made the usual excuse of needing to use the bathroom, and escaped. A howl of displeasure at his departure sounded through the room, disgruntled old perverts laughing and yelling for him to “come back and have a little to drink”.
He slipped out of the room, coughing a bit. The smoke was probably going to kill him someday. Another flaw; intolerance to smoke. He probably had weak lungs. He stalked down the halls, his head slightly lowered as he pondered things about the way he lived.
His left the building, and got back into his car, shutting the door and leaning back in his seat, allowing the scent of brimstone to fill his car. The scent of marijuana and cigarettes eventually faded away, and he turned the ignition on his car. He pulled out of the sandy lot, and turned back down the road the way he had originally come.
He drove to the middle of the desert, where he was supposed to be, and parked his vehicle in the sand. He turned it off, and got out, watching as his chariot sank into the sand. His eyes were forlorn, a feeling of sadness in his heart.
Well, some of them, anyway.
Some woman, young, pretty… her red hair and green eyes were vibrant in the sunlight. He stared at her blankly, slightly startled by how she was talking to him. She looked worried, concerned, anything other than what he was used to.
“Sure,” He finally replied, a slight smile gracing his lips. She leaned over in her car, opening the door for him. He clambered into her truck, buckling himself into the front seat, as he knew he was supposed to.
“My name is Mary,” She said, “Where are you headed?”
He turned to face her, his expression blank for a moment. He smiled more broadly, “I’m Lucifer,” He answered, “I’m not heading anywhere.”
She chuckled as he told her his name, “There’s no better way to travel.”
Mary put her large Chevrolet into drive, and pressed on the gas precariously, so as to not jump them off at a bad start. Lucifer laughed outright, rolling down his window and staring out at the scenery as she began to drive, “Definitely.”
They pulled off into the approaching sunset, her bouncy red hair flying all around her head as she told him about her journey so far. He listened, intrigued by her stories of adventure. Unlike his brother, he did not know everything.
Lucifer pulled the ring off his pinky finger and threw it out the open window, watching through the rearview mirror as it bounced in the sand a couple of times.
The world was a mystery, and he wanted to see all of it, without any rules to hold him back. He would live sympathetically, love courteously, and laugh tastefully. He’d use all his well-learned politesse and he would lay no more souls to waste.
Just as every cop is a criminal, and all the sinners Saints… As heads is tails, his name was Lucifer, and he was breaking free of his restraints.

Well, some of them anyway.

So, me and mom went to this clinic in the middle of Oneonta’s nowhere to see Dr. Sweet, an ENT. We waited a little while, mom did some paperwork and then this nice lady in a green shirt and black palazzio capris called us in. Also, I wasn’t allowed to go into the room by myself because I’m under 18. That’s retarded, isn’t it?

Anyway, she got some info off of me.

-(Have you ever been hospitalized?
Yes.
For what?
I ingested some “Non-Food Material.”)-

Me and mom also stared at the fun posters of ear, nose, and throat infections, decided where acute otosis (or something like that) occurs, and figuring out that polyps can get removed, which sounds like HORROR.

Finally, Dr. Sweet(who is sweet, but not hot. ), came in and gave me a routine check up. Ear, nose(ewww) and throat were checked. He told me that my lymph nodes were quite palpable, which, I guess, means that they were relatively swollen. He told me that my tonsils looked a bit large, and then informed me that a general procedure for such a throat would be to remove the tonsils.

So, I get to skip school for the week after my tonsillectomy. Healing will take a total of three weeks.

And Gina should understand this; do you remember that chapter of “Dr. Grantz is in” when Ulquiorra got his tonsils taken out?

That’s the exact same procedure that they’re gonna do on me.

For those of us who haven’t read “Dr. Grantz is in”, the procedure that they are going to do is different from how they did it ten-twenty years ago. No scalpel!

They take this wand-like thing, and use this plasma-like stuff(very close to a “laser” apparently) and basically melt the tissue and flesh that connects my tonsils to my throat off. It’s apparently less painful that how they used to do it, and I guess it takes less time to heal or something.

But of course, the drawback is that I’m not a kid, so it’s going to hurt like a bitch anyway. Apparently, getting your tonsils removed hurts less when you are a young child (8 and under?), but its like hell once you become an adult. I don’t know how that works, but whatever.

So, anyway, it’s a done deal. I’m getting a pre-op checkup on the 16th so that they can do some tests, and then I’m going to go under the Plasma Wand on the 24th. All of this is taking place in February.

I’m really excited; I don’t know why.

Long story short; Dad was snarling at Ricky, being spiteful to a twelve year old, and I told them both to stop acting like children. Ricky tells me to shut up, I shush him, and Dad yells at me to ’stay out of it’. I tell him to act his age. He says “Well, why don’t you shut up?” and I repeat that he should act his age.

I know I’m in the wrong, but still. “Why don’t you shut up?” What the fuck kind of come back is that? I used that when I was eight and fighting with Natalie.

I haven’t updated in a while, but then again, there hasn’t really been anything to tell you, other than that I got a 95% in Global Studies and a 81% in Biology. Don’t know the rest of my grades yet.

Other than that, I’m kinda still subtly falling to pieces. I barely notice it myself, but I am going there. This is utter bullshit. I hate myself. Well, at least I’ve got good music to listen to.