Member since August 21st, 2005


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Part I.

I'm a writer.

That's probably the only part of me that will ever make sense. It's pretty much the only thing that makes me smile as wildly as my first crush did way back whenever.

I love watching the characters in my head being breathed into life, seeing them interact with one another and sitting back as they develop inside their own plotlines. There's nothing more beautiful than that.

I have a strange fascination with words. I just love the way they feel against my lips (better than kisses), how much meaning they carry with them and how they can resound in your head hours after they've been murmured, developing into something more with every milisecond that goes by.

I feel about writing like others feel about music. Writing to me is that memory-cluttered summer when you couldn't stop laughing, that threadbare teddy you've had since birth which makes everything all right when you reach for it, that splash of rain on your face just when your mind needed to be washed clean.

It's more than every breath I take. It's like its poised at every nerve-ending and tingles with the slightest touch of inspiration. It's like, when I'm sleeping, my dreams aren't in picture - they're in novels.

I have dreams illusions of doing it professionally one day. While some people want to see their names in lights, I long to see mine in print.

Find me here.

Part II.

I'm a dreamer. It fills up every spare second I'm not spending on life, even some I probably shouldn't have wasted but did anyway - just for the joy of it.

I love envisioning a new way of living, the possibilities I'll probably never create when my cautious fear holds me back. But, for that split second my imagination ignites into life, they're real, they play out in techni-colour and they're mine.

I also love people watching. I love seeing how they interact with the world around them and how they let it interact with them. I sit and piece together stories about their lives; what they do, what they're thinking the second my eyes focus on them, the significance of the person sat next to them. I paint frames around the pictures they provide me with.

I'm attracted to the worst possible train-wreck personalities. I love feeling that I'm not the only one whose head sometimes feel ten sizes too small for their thoughts, whose emotions go from ecstatic to depressed in ten seconds flat, whose life sometimes feels like shards on the bathroom floor.

I love to make believe that I can be the one to fix them.

Part III.

I'm a subtle activist; a strange breed, I know.

I don't carry around placards and shout slogans with every exhale, I don't fill my lungs with screams for anarchy. Most people who do don't even know what anarchy means. They only realise that it passed from the lips of the Sex Pistols so, by that definition, it must be cool.

Put down the flame throwers and look it up.

Fight with your mind and not with second-hand opinions.

I carry around my beliefs next to the heart on my sleeve.

I'm anti-war. No matter who validates it, to me, it still counts as murder. It just means that there's blood on paperwork too, not just lining someone's palms.

I'm against all forms of animal cruelty, be it through animal testing or through the fashion industry. Pass it off as them being lower down in the food chain, explain it as us having an innate carnivorous drive, but we were also given a thinking mind. Surely we should really exercise it and do what's right.

I don't believe in violence to solve anything. Aggression just undermines everything you're striving to achieve and probably serves to prove everything the opposition is saying about you. I believe in peaceful ways of putting opinions across. It may take time but it's worth it in the end.

I hate the fact that "emo" has suddenly become a valid insult to throw at someone who happens to fit two stereotypes from a checklist. It's petty and pathetic. It's only a subculture just like " punk " and " goth " is and means so much to those that follow it; it's probably saved them from the demons inside their heads and showed them that there are people out there just like them who can help. This kind of treatment just shows the irony of society; everyone hates being labelled but throw them around anyway to protect their shattered egos.



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