I am a hormone-ridden, acne-ridden repressed nymphomaniac
adolescent, trapped somewhere between my desire for something more in
life and my own self doubts. I am a slightly skeptical sardonic cynic,
prone to to silence, speech, and bitter, biting sarcasm. I'm an
optimist, a pessimist, an activist, a realist, a fabulist, a
supernaturalist, and a naturalist with a few unnatural tendencies. I'm
pathetic but I'm passionate, I'm incomprehensible but I'm articulate. I
love the world but I hate the people in it, my life is good to me but
it still treats me like shit. I'm a walking contradiction with a
chronic addiction to my own idealistic fiction. I'm a free human being
but I'm holding myself captive. I could let myself go, but my thoughts
are too attractive. I can see everthing, and I've searched far and wide.
I could be anything, but I'm too afraid to try.
My dreams are the truth, reality is a lie.
Now stop reading this crap! Go away! Goodbye!
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