age: 40 (Mar 03, 1972)
MEMBER SINCE: March 2010
occupation: Stockroom Controller
sign: Exit
heroes: Bill Hicks
gets me hot: A great ass! Pin-up style, intelligence, curves, a wicked smile
into: H.P. Lovecraft, Bill Hicks, Charlie Brooker, Bettie Page, SuicideGirls, pin-up, vintage, art, music, film, Star Wars, horror, masks, sleep, plague doctors, Día de los Muertos, skulls, blood, passion, truth, propaganda, OBEY, animals.
It doesn’t take long to get tired now, I only went back to work on Wednesday and already I’m shattered. My medication has been totally kicking my ass this week, leaving me tired, sickly and severely dehydrated. Makes it hard to concentrate on anything. I think another black cloud is on the horizon. My temper has been ferocious all week and emotional logic feels like a stranger. Paranoia rules. I hurt and it seems like nobody cares. I have friends, I think but nobody gets in contact. We seem like friends in name but not in deed. Lip service. But what’s the point in character assassination? They all have one thing in common…me. Did I push them all away too often, burn one bridge to many or am I just not worth the trouble? I don’t blame anyone for their inaction - I’m not a good or nice person. Maybe I made one escape attempt too many and I’m already gone. Maybe this is my punishment, my purgatory.








