THE NEXT PERSON THAT PMs/EMAILS/CONTACTS ME ABOUT THIS IS GOING TO GET KICKED IN THE FACE. SRSLY.

SO.

Before we get into the fun stuff... THIS BEAT IS AUTOMATIC, SUPERSONIC, HYPNOTIC, FUN-KAY FRESH! (That, btw, is my favourite song. Probably of all time. IT MAKES ME DA-ANCE)

I haven’t updated SPIN in over a year, partly because I’m a lazy fuck, I’ve had bigger things on my hands and it’s a little hard for me to find a decent block of time, especially lately because Hellbitch is kind of running the show. And to be honest I’m not sure this is ever going to be updated – my better half (LAWL) and I have this neat little pact thing, that she recently pulled out of because her girlfriend is a meddling lesbian. But let’s face it, I’m a rebellious fuck and she’s made of putty so it’s not exactly going to be hard to fix that. And even if I can't... Imma do it anyway. So, no, I do not think SPIN is going to be updated again. Which, y’know, I feel fucking horrible for, especially since it's the last chapter and all, but right now I don’t have much of an interest in anything let alone writing.

And now to the fun part. Which, technically, has nothing to do with SPIN, or anything you dudes need to know. But, ptsh, I’m a drama queen if nothing else so public apologies are kind of my thing. There is a LOT of controversy about me at the moment, and some of it’s pretty ridiculous. I’ve heard some crazy rumours, theories, and I’m going to set shit straight before I’m gone, if nothing else. YES I EXIST. Not exactly in your most conventional run-of-the-mill (the fuck does that even mean?) way but, hey, I breathe and walk and have a pretty fucked-up soul, I think, maybe, so. Here I am. So, let’s start with the basics. I love purple. Everything, in my opinion, should be fucking purple. Except maybe cows. Speaking of cows I love cowflesh, I’m terribly addicted to Pixie Hollow (I’m a Tinker fairy, btw), I love surfing, I fucking LOVE dancing (MY FEET WERE MADE TO DANCE), I rock the bass, I hate pomegranate, I write sporadically and not very well, I’m dyslexic on the best of days, I can speak a teensy bit of Italian and I know enough sign to get me through a conversation and then some, I FAIL at crosswords, I’m destined to marry/worship Selena Gomez, I smoke way too much, I swear way too much, I can cook like there’s no tomorrow, I’m kind of a neat freak, I’m constantly bamboozled by technology, I can be a vain, arrogant motherfucker, I heart Kim Possible, I am completely terrified of reading out loud, I like to colour more than I should, Beauty and the Beast is my favourite movie ever, I cannot operate a computer to save my life, Chad’s the only person I’ve ever truly loved and fuck knows I’ve been known to absolutely MANGLE my life, and others, in order to do my very unofficial job, which leads me to how I lie frequently, I spend ridiculous amounts of money on things I don’t need, my temper is volatile at best, I share living space with four extremely insane people that I have varying love/hate relationships with, I’m going to be a fucking AWESOME zombie and I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know.

Here’s the tricky part. I have one purpose. Like a much less cooler version of Neo, though I’m pretty sure I could kick his ass into the next century and back (I flat-out refused to watch the Matrix movies just because of their ridiculous need to wear sunglasses everywhere, even at night, another fascinating bit of info. It infuriates me). It’s my one reason for even existing. It’s like a job, I guess, but I don’t get paid. I FUCKING WISH. PAID IN SKITTLES PLZ. And everything I do, have done, regardless of how cruel or unfair or just plain WRONG it’s seemed, every little fucking thing I do is for that one, single purpose. I live… a crazy life. It’s fucking insane, literally. And not to brag emo, but it’s borderline torture on the best of days. My life is limited in ways you wouldn’t even believe, and (for once) I’m being completely honest when I say I have nothing. And don’t take this the wrong way – I’m not after pity, I’m sure as fuck not after empathy, I ain’t after shit, and I’m not just being a whiny little emo bitch. I’m just explaining my deal. I haven’t really had anything that means ANYTHING to me, because nothing is... mine. Not even my family. To be terribly melodramatic I guess I exist for one sole purpose, and that’s it. That’s the end of my line. Friends? Family? Lovers? Pfft, forget it, not gonna happen. Not even remotely possible. Except Chad, who is the only thing that’s ever really MEANT anything, been anything, that my stupid, stupid heart has gone nuts over no matter how much I knew it was a bad idea, because, hey, heart’s a fucking rebel. And I fucked that up, but it was bound to happen eventually. Because, um, hello insane ridiculous situation, and I knew it’d never turn out okay. And a lot of things – people – that some people have thought I’d lied about – that I now have lied about (OH THE CONFUSION) – well… they’re…. well, trust me, they’re around. ANNOYINGLY AROUND. Lied about that, them, in order to stop someone from ripping her own head apart. To protect them in whatever way I can. Because that’s what I fucking do, even if it means fucking everyone over, and completely wrecking any fucking SHRED of happiness I had. Wrecking other people’s hearts. I had to. And I’m sorry. An unbelievable understatement. And everything I said originally is true - you have no, no idea how much of it is true. BUT ANYWAY.

I’m done now. The damage is done, and my main aim is the same as it’s always been – one silly, silly little girl. That’s it. So I hope, hope, that I finish this story before I can get this sweet ass plan underway, but it’s unlikely. Just letting you all know why, and apologizing. DRAMA QUEEN HELLO.

On a lighter note! Thank you all so much for your incredible, unfathomable support. It’s been great, and you all rock my socks, you beautiful people, you. I promise not to eat all your brainz when I’m undead.

Dirty Angel Toes