It’s maddening to think that no one can admit to when they’ve ultimately wronged you. It’s just much too difficult, so sitting on the subject altogether seems more desirable. I’m so entirely frustrated that I don’t even remember the reason for my searching for this site in the first place.
I’m an aspiring writer, incredibly wordy, but nowhere near Purple Prose. I’m a hermit by nature, a goth living in the almost always nice, Californian weather. I hate it. However, I didn’t come here to blab about this. I was hoping that using this outlet would do some good for myself. Of course, I have friends, but they don’t live near me and as an introvert, I can appreciate this fact. Being overwhelmed by company is draining on my soul and psyche.
Maybe I’m cliche because I adore Vampires and prefer to indulge in plots with dark development that is mentally and emotionally trying.. sometimes physically as well. I keep to myself, but maybe this could be shared, and who knows, maybe there are people out there who feel the same as me.
I suffer from DID (Disassociative Identity Disorder) or MPD (Multiple Personality Disorder), so I’ll warn you now, that though most of these entries are intended for me, there may be a few other entries that have another feel to them entirely. This is a much longer and more personal story that I will refrain from branching into, but I figured that I’d at least not lie.
This is just a small glimpse into some super massive void.. for now.