une mort certaine.

Translation: certain death.

I'm not even sure if that makes sense, 'cause I used Google translate for it and I have come to realise that half the time, it's not reliable. But, you know, just saying. I'm certainly dead.

Why?

Because somehow, despite my proclaimed love and adoration for the subject Français, I have somehow managed to misplace mes cahiers et mon livre.

As in, all my French books.

What to do, what to do!? It means I'll get a bad homework mark, a bad book mark and... I don't know. Maybe I'll never find them again. Maybe my life is over. Maybe I should drop Français and pick up... I don't know... Latin?

Oh, how I wish.

Anyway. I'm kidding. I love French. But, you know, with my books gone and my sanity being questioned, my love is... not as certain as it once was. But still! French will be my 'forever' forever.

I can picture me and my darling Français lounging on the beach in the Sunlands, throwing white roses into the water and commemorating the girl Little Fearless who sacrificed everything to safe the one thousand girls trapped in the prison masquerading as a school. Oh, my. Fearless holds such deep messages. It always sort of kicks my heart.

But to Gloriana's delight, I have begun to read The Hunger Games. I sort of fell asleep-- not because the book was boring, but just because I was tired-- so I didn't manage to get too far into it. Only on page thirty-eight.

But still, so far so good. I thought it would be boring 'cause that's what everybody said about the beginning, but I quite enjoyed it. The writing style actually reminds me a lot of this other author, Cathy Cassidy. Except their books are about completely different topics-- one is set in a Dystopian universe, while the other just deals with the issues of teenage girls with broken families, oppressive best friends, who fall in love at age thirteen, etc.

But the style is pretty similar. Which is not a bad thing. It's just... something I noticed.

Well, yeah. I hope Ms Miller doesn't destroy me tomorrow. I hope I find my French books by eight fifteen. I hope we get our maths tests back, and I wish I made a bet with somebody so I can feel better about my inevitably horrible mark.

Good bye now.