Superstitiousness Sucks.

Lately, I've felt kinda pressured, but my brains on the fritz. I've written over 20 fanfics for Naruto! Why is it so hard to write one for Fruits Basket? Every time I try to write one, I feel awkward, almost like if I write something wrong, Kyo is going to burst through the door and beat me into a pulp, which would be really cool if it wasn't me he was beating up. Also, I feel cuss words are needed, and I don't like writing cuss words, as much as they run through my head. I feel like I'm being watched, which is kinda creepy cause Da and Ryuu (my older brother) are both upstairs. The only one behind me is my guinea pig, Inky. Holy- I knew that guinea pig hated me! Please don't hurt me, guinea pig...

I've heard too many stories. It's hard for me to fall asleep, and it's all Anne's fault! Anne is a doll that's part of a diorama on my bookshelf. It's not really a diorama, more of a... shrine? Either way, it's my inspiration for a story that I keep forgetting to work on. In the two back corners sit two "Dolls of the World" Barbie dolls. (STFU, people who are going to judge me for have dolls.) One I named Anne- The "Doll of the World" Portugal, who has fly-away black hair under a golden net-crown and wears a red dress with puffy sleeves. The other doll, Emmaline, is "Doll of the World" Ireland, who has Red-gold hair and a green dress. But her dress is more... civilian-y? It's more everyday than Anne's. Anne (this is all coming from my story) is mean, ladylike, and spiteful, Emmaline is kind, fun, and adventurous. But guess which one I can see from my bed? That's right- Anne. I am extremely superstious. So I've heard all these stories in which evil dolls start to get angry with their owners, and eventually kill them. In the daylight, I think like a normal person- "It's a freaking doll! It can't hurt me!" but at night, I get freaked out. So last week I decided to placate Little Anne. So I found some faux fur, and without thinking, cried, "This would be lovely on you Emmaline!" And cut it to size, making a little shawl for the doll. I looked over at Anne. Was it just me, or was the doll frowning? It was probably just me, but I looked furiously throught my drawers, until I found more faux fur, this time in black, cut it to size, and draped it around that evil little dolls shoulders. I look away, I look back. She seems to be smiling again, almost smirking. Her face seemed to have a "I have you in my grasp" look to it. I shuddered and ran out of the room. So now, when I go to sleep, I have to push into the pillow or blanket, so that I can't see that dolls pale face leering at me in the dark room. That doll scares me. Stupid, right? But I'm even more scared to try to hide her away, or she might take offense and want revenge, ne? Ugh, what's a girl to do?