I am uneasy. I am anxious. I am worried.

It was pouring when Rebella stepped into the temple.

The temple of impurities was a temple designed in the style of the eastern cultures. It was a temple with almost no roof at all.

As expected, it was mingling with people. The temple, usually so empty one could hear their own breathing, was filled to its brim with people, because the Rain God was angry.

And only letting go of impurities could help. So Rebella, like all the other people around her, tagged along with the people to get to the Inner Temple.

The Inner Temple was really a courtyard, so Rebella adjusted her hood before stepping once again into the shower of rain drops. There was a queue for paper, but Rebella had brought her own anticipating it.

She pushed her red hair back, to keep it from dripping on the paper as she wrote down her worries.

I am uneasy, because I have no future.
I am anxious, because my prayers won't be answered.
I am worried for my family.

Three simple wishes. Three simple prayers.

Rebella's most sincere thoughts. If that didn't please the Rain God, she didn't know what would.

The culture of Aryn was most extraordinarily obsessed with the element of Fire and Water. They were opposites, but Aryn had weaved them together, in more ways than just religion. Every shower was welcomed with a fire, a child knew how to swim and make a fire even before they learnt to speak.

It had become a lifestyle.

Rebella crumpled the paper and grabbed a bow. Not many used the bow and arrow, mainly because they were afraid of missing. But Rebella knew her green eyes wouldn't deceive her even in this rain.

Her hands were slightly numb as she lighted up the tip of the arrow. The Fyre resisted at first, but Rebella was resolute enough to set a spark. The whole tip burst into rainbow coloured flames.

Not even a second had passed when Rebella threw the paper high into the rain and sent the arrow after it.

It catched at the very moment the paper began falling. A rainbow coloured tiny comet fell straight down, following the pattern of the rain.

Many red and blue robed figures turned to look at the spectacle, but turned their attention back to their papers once the ball had landed.

Only the grey robes adorned with woven blue rain drops and red flames observed the flame carefully, extinguishing it with Waeter once the paper had completely burned.

Rebella felt her chest lighten. She had come here often enough after the disaster, but perhaps this was the first time where she felt that her prayers had been heard.

She left with a slight smile, carrying happiness within her like a tiny flame.

On my way home, there was no thunder.

Ima wa sekai ga watashi wa kirai.

Ima no boku wa watashi wa daikirai.

I dislike everything about negative emotions and problems based on them. They rile you up, put more volume to them and give you serious breathing problems including a head ache with it.

I want to throw up.

I hate the fact that I can't even mention those problems, because society has made me grow into a person who does not talk about these things. Or if, then always round the corner.

I hate the fact that no one will ever truly know what was going or what wasn't going through my head my whole life.

I hate the fact that I can't get over these petty problems. That analyzing them in a "calm" manner gets me even more riled up, because I feel that every time I get mad, I can't treat myself as a human.

I want to get out of here. Abroad. Anywhere, where I don't have any people I know to face. It'll be sad without the people whom I like and care for, but it would be so much easier to get rid of every emotion ever felt associated with a person, start in a new country with a blank page.

Evenings like this make me feel that there's two people inside me: The somewhat mad something thing, who actually likes to draw stripes on her face with a lipstick and the rather destructively mad person, who really tries their best to make sure that I am miserable. Neither of them deserve to be in each other's company.

I hate the way I keep blaming the society for things, but I really can't seem to figure out who else came up with the idea that everything remotely negative inside me must be suppressed, without ever giving up the hope that if I let something shine through, then maybe someone will notice.

I hate the way that my head is complicated apparently, cause all problems are so easy to solve and I'm supposed to feel the emotion without being it.

I hate being called an ego.

I hate being separated from myself, with someone simply dictating, that the ego is a sickness, thinking is a sickness, everything I am and live for is a sickness.

Because what is not important is your love for the people you've grown to love, but the amount of strangers you love. You gotta love everybody.

Nobody cares that you don't have enough love for that. Morals. Never trust em.

If my mind were a spine, then I'd really like to bend it to the point where it'll break. Just to see what happens.

H.

Musicless.

With a total amount of two balls and a New Year celebration, I feel that I might've crossed my limit of social interaction. Not the individual kind, but the, there are loads of people kind.

I honestly feel that I don't want to go anywhere for a long time.

I wonder if it's because I've stopped trying so hard in my life, which means that I am attempting to get along less and less with people I don't know.

I've also become quieter...it's like I do everything, yet when I need to talk about something, nothing comes to mind. Mainly since I haven't watched any kind of movies or anime or anything.

Nor read. I've just been...everywhere else. Which is more eventful and everything, but I have nothing to talk about.

Weird.

I feel like I've lost sight of the self I was before, my behavior and responses change more and more. Although I've been trying to go for the better, I have no idea what's happening.

I don't have trust issues anymore, I think. It's more of the question on which topics I am comfortable to talk about.

I read a lot. The whole Hunger Games series. Funny I actually did what a finnish fangirl told me to.

But now, I don't know whether it's the history lessons lately or myself going somewhat haywire, I feel for the whole series a bit more, take it in more seriously.

It's like growing up.

I really don't what that, mainly because I have no idea what that'll turn me into.

I wonder how the seventh grade me would feel like now.As arbitrary as the number seems, it's actually not.

I need something of a fresh start.

Should put that good thought down as well.

I know it's meant to be in a jar, but honestly, I have way too many pretty notebooks, which I should use.
I can always cut the descriptions out and put them then into a jar, ay?

H.

Dancer in the Dark

I feel like a sick pervert, who encourages people to talk about themselves, by pushing some simple buttons.

I feel fake.

I feel like I am caught up in a loop, never ending, always returning to this very same Sunday morning, where the only thing I do is write, write, write.

I get weird ideas, I feel oddly at peace, yet when talking to other people, I feel so very fake.

I feel Christmas.

The weather is windy, the sun is shining, yet I feel not confined, but somehow restricted to myself.

I feel like I am pacing impatiently in my cage, knowing I could break out, wondering what I am still waiting for.

Am I hesitating?

Cuppa.

I don't seem to be the kind of person who can go on without crying at least once per fortnight.

Then again, it is solved.

I've made a list. It's short at the moment, but it'll get better.

Ning kõndides pimedal,

kuid soojal oktoobrikuu õhtul valgustatud tänaval,
"I don't care, I love it" kõrvus kumisemas,

kogen jälle mittekuuluvustunnet

Thought I'd add it here, to sum up what bothered me up until three weeks ago.

It's hard to keep talking to people, when occasionally, you seem to tire of them, not because you feel that they've done something wring, but simply because the amount of conversation has overflown.

I wish I could put my thoughts down in the form I think 'em. I still haven't thought up how that is supposed to work, but I suppose it might be possible one day.

I think I set myself a goal to write as much as possible this month, but I already can feel that most likely, I won't be writing anymore than necessary - which is sad because it means that I'll never become a writer.

Then again, people have published a book with much weirder and more senseless texts, so who says I won't be able to get anything published, hm?

 

Thinking is a disease.

That moment when you desperately need to listen to a song, as loudly as possible in order to enjoy it, yet you simply can't because you're supposed to go to sleep.

So I'm writing this post instead, not quite sure which song I crave for, in hopes I will figure it out by tomorrow.

I feel like I've randomly managed to find myself some creativity and now I'm not sure what to do with it.

It's quite unusual, especially since I've got no inspiration.

But I've sort of promised myself to start writing during November...I wanted to note down some stories, mostly the Potter ones, I think. Gotta look up numerology.

It's amazing how much pressure the second period suddenly brings with it - you've got separated Estonian classes just for the sake of doing your exam better, not to mention German as your first foreign language. The homework load with the first week is amazing, yet you enjoy the chance to speak proper German much.

It's amazing how much things one can simply do worse to make yourself more understandable for people.

Of cats and curly conquerors

Sometimes, I'm not quite sure what my intuition wants to tell me.

I start assuming things, which are either 100% accurate or not accurate at all.

Thus I end up...somewhere. Which makes me overthink.

But, I did get to pet a cat at three o'clock in the morning. I'd say it was a successful night.

I am seriously terrified at the moment. I didn't realize it until now, when I start putting my thoughts down.

I don't want to talk about it to anyone, just out of pure paranoia that it'll go away when I talk about it.

I don't want it to go away.

My head hurts.

I grin maniacally as I gaze down upon my driver's license, which I don't feel I've deserved.

But I am glad that this has been accomplished, so I shan't complain about it.

Step number 1: Be honest. Please, I beg of you be honest. Is gonna hurt like hell, but being honest is better than being not.

Life is like a boat. Life is like theater.

I feel like a marionette on strings, barely aware of what's happening around me.

I did get my room clean though. So that's something.