Dear Die-ary, today I stuffed some dolls full of dead rats I put in the blender. I'm wondering if, maybe, there really is something wrong with me.
It's a frightening world to be alone in.
I think there is something a little too self conscious about enjoying being an outsider.
I don't like it when people dress up like Zim, because they look like Hulks.
I'm just doing little bits and pieces for other magazines right now.
Doing something purely for one's own enjoyment is fine, but, I must admit, finding that others enjoy it as well has a certain power over the corners of my mouth.