Four and Twenty Blackbirds and a Frog on a Cracker

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This is not a journal nor a diary nor a purple swamp toadstool, these are my thoughts on paper. Thither and yon, back and forth, right side up and inside out. I really don't know if this place is going to be good for me, there are ghosts everywhere. And absolutely no need for batteries. Aislin dyed her hair brown and purple. I considered dyeing mine turquoise, but I'd get bored with it too fast, and potatoes can't swim. I'm irritated that this place hasn't the slightest semblance of a band. I have to go actually go to class now.

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Maybe I am thinking I do not post in here enough... Anyhowzz, I couldn't find my orange ink, which enraged me to no end, but yesss. My hands are freezing. I think the loss of blood keeps making them cold. Can I tell you why? I think I can tell you why, it's not like anyone else is going to read this, right? You know how the ghosts keep following me around, I think it has to do with my feline....issues(more on that later, I suppose), and for the same reason I'm illogically terrified of them, but they just can't stay away from me, stupid things. Well, apparently any semblance of instability (some people say I'm unstable. Am I unstable? I mean... I wonder if I'm crazy. Can a crazy person wonder if they're crazy?I don't think I'm unstable, but even Aislin says I can be really off the wall at times.) tends to drive them away (except the stupid Bloody Baron, he's just...weird.). But I was running down the hall a week or so ago, and I tripped and crashed into a suit of armor and cut my hand on the weapon it held as we both fell, and naturally, I go to lick away the blood, and the ghost that had been trying to ask me something or other (I think it was the one they call Nick) gave me this strange look and kind of...ebbed off, or whatever. It was strange. But anyway, the cut is, or was, or..something like that, really deep, and it keeps splitting open. It's on my PALM, duh, I kind of have to use that, I mean, I'm ambidextrous and all, but I still work better with my right hand, plus it's my wand hand, so I kind of have to use it. So it's not really healing. But for some reason having my hand cut open seems to be keeping the ghosts away mostly, and it doesn't really huirt much anymore, except when it first reopens, so I'm not really bothered by it. Fortunately, Aislin apparently hasn't noticed it yet, I know she'd completely freak out. This place really isn't any good, I mean, it's nice to have a steady place to live for once, and keep the same surroundings for a while, but it's depressing. I mean, it's like... There are so few people here who are actually...Willing to accept others. Like....

I dunno. I suppose I should be used to being looked at like a freak. After all, Aislin's really the only one who gets how I think, I mean, I certainly can't help thinking the way I do. I would have tried to be nice to Morganna, but she only ever gave me glares and disgusted looks, and now she's dead so she's really screwed. I realized how much of a habit clinging to my cat bell had become, and how quickly the other day. I need to just start wearing my collar everywhere... Anyway, someone's coming in, and it's almost five-thirty in the morning, but I suppose I can sleep in History of Magic, I'm terrible in that class anyway. So, I'm going to go do something else now.

I guess I'm doing well. This is the first time I've ever really tried to keep a journal.

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Okay, so perhaps maybe this journal thing is not for me. The mere thought of it sems a chore. Hmm....