L

I just finished writing the first of a series of Smallville character reflections. The first is 669 words of Clarky goodness. Well, mostly goodness. I'm trying to work on my word count. In reflection, I wonder if Brother #2 is right: maybe I am like Chloe. Maybe I should go back to school and study journalism. I'm not sure. Right now, I want to do this bath and body thing I've been thinking about. It'd be nice to be my own boss and use my creativity in that way. But hey, who says I can't do both?

I never got to go to Olive Garden with my sister. After all that happened, she spent the day at Mom's and lost track of time. I guess it's not so bad. I'll see her again, even if it'll be almost a year until then. Unless she somehow gets some leave in February. Good luck to her on that one.

I'm doing a lot better now, physically and emotionally. I still haven't decided what I should spend my Christmas money on, or what I'm getting with my gift card. Really, one of the things that upset me was the fact that sensitive!bro got a guitar for Christmas. After all those years I asked for one and never got it, and the fact that there is far less money coming in now than there ever was, it felt like a punch in the gut. Not because of the money, but because it felt like my mother had never cared enough to get me one. The bad thing is, after my aunt became the straw that broke this camel's back, I started to cry and sensitive!bro tried to gift me his guitar. I told him no, of course, but it's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done.

I'm not too terribly fond of Christmas, but I had a bad one. I'm not going into details. It doesn't matter. But I spent most of the day crying.

I've got a good chunk of money, though. And a Best Buy gift card.

Look what I got from my Secret Santa at Fairytopia! It's Clark!



I would credit the artist, only I don't know who it is yet! But IloveitIloveitIloveit!

ETA: Credit.

Dear Santa,

I don't really believe in you, or much like where you came from. I'm just using you for dramatic emphasis. Maybe I should write to Jesus instead.

Dear Jesus,

I know you weren't really born this time of year, but you might have been conceived then. It doesn't really matter too much in this case. But all I really want right now is all the fighting to stop, at least until the beginning of the year, or my sister leaves. It's just ruining this whole time we're supposed to be spending together. Thanks for listening, even if you decide not to help.

<3,
L