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No classes and no work yesterday makes today feel like a MonTuesday. I don't want to get uppppp. Too many dreams.

This is unbelievable. It's bad enough I have these stupid dreams, but to wake up with a freaking brand on the back of my neck like I'm some sort of cattle is just ridiculous.

Grams...

Stupid dreams.

Well, I'm starving and nothing appeals to me. But blood.

Filtered to Caroline
It's done with Enzo. I shouldn't be surprised.

Filtered to Damon
Enzo and I are over.
I don't regret though.

Late night internet searching lead me to this article earliest use of the f-word and in a court case to boot.

If the title isn't warning enough, and even though its historic, this article may not be safe for work.

I hate to brag, but my dog's adorable. Have a video of him him playing in the rain.

How is everyone?

Is there anyway to 'change' what happens in the dreams? I mean, in 'normal' dreams, I could somewhat impose my own thoughts about what was happening.

I was hoping to not have such a relate-able family life...

Yes, I've been dreaming more and I woke up to find a staff on my coffee table. Perhaps the magic has started flowing...but I should probably test it out somewhere that I am not surrounded by things I like.

Sometimes, your dreams are bad. You lose an arm and it grows back. You kill people to save others.

You have friends. You go through terrible things together. Things no teenager should have to face. War. Death. Torture. Genocide. You form a bond. You start to feel human. But you know you're not human. You're a killer, a weapon. You don't even know if you have a soul.

But then, there is Paris. And someone to remind you how to be alive. People you can trust. To heal you. But also to end you to save others.

Can you miss people you've never met?

That seemingly sweet photographer I went on a platonic date with? Stalking me. There were all sorts of pictures of me on his camera. I can hardly believe it. I've had my blinds closed all day. The creepiness bled into my waking hours. So weird. So creepy.