Hrmm. My first entry. Well, I suppose since you're not quite familiar with me, I might as well fill you in. As of yet, I am a cripple. I'd love to say different, but that's not the case.
Misery is not being able to run.
Misery is having to face every damned fear headlong, without the ability to get the fuck out of the way.
I'm living with most of my left leg intact, save all the bone between my mid-femur and upper-shin. The only bone that I still have right there is my kneecap. I was a soccer player. Not only that, I was damned good. I didn't even like soccer so much. I liked to run. The feeling of wind in my face was euphoric. Beyond all sensations I've ever had, that was the most intense. Maybe it's some sort of fucked up hind-sight thing. As I can recall, when I could run, I didn't think much of it at all. Now I'm practically obsessed with it. I run in my dreams. In car trips, I picture myself racing alongside the car, in full stride like some sort of machine.
The reason for it all? Cancer. No shit huh? I was 13. My entire life crumbled into a heap of crushed dreams and ambitions. Sports, of course, aren't everything. I've taken up private research on botannical poisons (Mandrake, Belladonna, Nightshade, and a few others), advanced use of firearms, knife throwing, and foriegn language(s). Just the other day, I saw the lovely nulltreat in my german 201 class with "Guess" written in Katakana (Japanese kana used for foriegn words and onomonopeic phrases (sp?)) on her backpack. I sounded it out and there we were. Consider us introduced! She is fucking great.
Why am I studying all this shit you ask? Simple. I'm going to be 'the man.' I'm going to be the man so much that I'll be getting you down.
Perhaps I can find a picture soon.
Yeah.
Miguel. "Oh shut up melty creature! You are the most retarded EVER
Misery is not being able to run.
Misery is having to face every damned fear headlong, without the ability to get the fuck out of the way.
I'm living with most of my left leg intact, save all the bone between my mid-femur and upper-shin. The only bone that I still have right there is my kneecap. I was a soccer player. Not only that, I was damned good. I didn't even like soccer so much. I liked to run. The feeling of wind in my face was euphoric. Beyond all sensations I've ever had, that was the most intense. Maybe it's some sort of fucked up hind-sight thing. As I can recall, when I could run, I didn't think much of it at all. Now I'm practically obsessed with it. I run in my dreams. In car trips, I picture myself racing alongside the car, in full stride like some sort of machine.
The reason for it all? Cancer. No shit huh? I was 13. My entire life crumbled into a heap of crushed dreams and ambitions. Sports, of course, aren't everything. I've taken up private research on botannical poisons (Mandrake, Belladonna, Nightshade, and a few others), advanced use of firearms, knife throwing, and foriegn language(s). Just the other day, I saw the lovely nulltreat in my german 201 class with "Guess" written in Katakana (Japanese kana used for foriegn words and onomonopeic phrases (sp?)) on her backpack. I sounded it out and there we were. Consider us introduced! She is fucking great.
Why am I studying all this shit you ask? Simple. I'm going to be 'the man.' I'm going to be the man so much that I'll be getting you down.
Perhaps I can find a picture soon.
Yeah.
Miguel. "Oh shut up melty creature! You are the most retarded EVER
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whom though... hm... but someone for sure...