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Rora's Diary: Entry 2Dear Diary,
Dear God, why have you taken my loves of my life. Both have not deserved to die. My brother died from protecting me and my best friend died from an illness just a few minutes ago. And the girl who's life was ended by my greed and envy for her. Why am I to live out my days when I am the evil princess? I have laid the blade unto my skin for the first time. Ai's friend is here, she has told me that it isn't my fault for her passing. She has even offered that I can come to live with her. I still can't remember her name. She is nice to me like Kishi and Ai. She is pretty like the girl I had my brother to kill, inside and out. But I still don't understand, I prayed to God for Ai's pain to end for her to heal so we could go to the ocean, and he took her life instead. I am too depressed to continue on this so I will end my diary writing for now. I love you Ai. I love you Kishi. May you both rest in peace.
In the words of a vixen,
Rora's DairyDear Dairy,
It's me, Rora again. I have fallen to the state of depression once more. My dear friend Ai has fallen ill again and I'm not sure if she will make it this time. Her grandmother has told me so. But I am to act as though she will be fine when I get to talk to her. Her friend from a distant village is coming soon. I hope she gets here so she will see her before her clock runs out. Ai showed me paintings of them when they were younger. She looked ill then too but her friend was much youthful looking. I'm talking to her while writing this, she has told me that when she gets better she wants to go to the ocean. I feel so guilty for not telling her that she most likely won't. But if I were to tell her she would panic and that would be far too much for her fragile heart to take. Tonight I shall pray for Ai-chan's pain to stop and for her to feel better.
on old sanzu - absolutely true fictionlast fall i stole my friend down by the tama river. we sang. we danced. we skipped dead fish like rocks and watched them get swallowed by the undertow. we got sick off of bad chinese food and went skinny-dipping and then a week later she drowned herself.
her uncle was a yakuza, i think, but he really just wanted to be al pacino or something. anyway, she loved him a lot. maybe that’s why she went down the way she went down; cement shoes. not real cement, but it was the same idea. she had two cloth bags with yellow-painted cinderblocks inside, and they were tied to her ankles like the prisoners’ chains from o brother where art thou.
in my mind’s eye i can see her, limping dreadfully close to the edge of the current, her left hand gripping at her breasts through a loose t-shirt. kneeling by the wastelands, elbows in the gravel, crawling forward out into the water. angry like a dermis under wool, all teeth and salt and sand. sleepy, submissive, sublimated.
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