l
V Amazing fella who 'taught me' movable script!
`designer_e*lame
TAG, DAMNED YOU, TAG!
JASMINE/YUKI-KO
A proud 4B'ian in heart, mind and soul~
Diagnosed with insanity, split personality since 24 Jan 91.
Game, anime, manga, fanfic lover.
Ships YAOI, BL, SHOUNEN-AI in general.
Draws, eats, sleeps, shits, sprouts nonsense, reads.
Sings(?), acts(?), dreams, being a general fucktard.
Wants to open a:
+ Coscafe
+ Orphanage
Wants to be a:
+ Counselling Psychologist
+ Fu Tai Tai(br>
+ Wife/Mother/Grandmother
Wants to do:
+ Take over the world
+ Experience what it feels like to be a guy for a day
+ Engage in YAOI!!!
+ Get married
+ Have at least 5 kids.
+ Be a goddess XD
+ slimming!
+ Cosplay
Things that she wants to see before she dies:
+ World Peace
+ Reduced Poverty
+ Her kids
Places to see before she dies:
+ Germany
+ Egypt
+ China(historical sites)
+ Italy
+ Russia
+ Japan
+ Thailand
+ Ireland
+ France
+ Museum of Sex XD
+ Benaki Museum(Greece)
Places to see after she dies:
+ Babylon
+ Egpyt
+ Heaven
Questions to ask the GOD(s)/GODDESS(es) in charge after she dies:
+ Who made the world?
+ Who made the pyramids?
+ Are there really life in space?
+ What do they do?
+ Can she have cookies in the afterlife?
+ Can she go and create her own puesdo-world?
+ Can they fall in love with mortals?
+ Are the myths real?
+ Are there really parallel worlds?
+ Do we really create new worlds by just thinking about them?
+ Is the dreamscape a reality, or reality the dreamscape?
+ Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
+ Can someone take her to see the history of the world in its entire-ty, in its exact time?
+ Who was she in her past/pastpast/pastpastpast (etc) life?
+ Why is there a prostate gland in a guy's ass if homo-sex is frowned upon?
TALOS GRYFALCRON
Who am I? Stupid question. Who are you?
Frankly if you want to know, pansy named me Hatsubame Matsurika.
Fuckin' tongue twister, I know.
Kratos would've been cool, 'cept some creature who called himself 'God of War' took it already.
So damn. I've got a female name.
Even though I'm a fuckin' MALE.
But call me Talos anyway.
I'm a fuckin' demon, unfortunately, trapped within a pansy ass mortal, who insists that i do not scar people IRL.
What? You don't like it? THEN FUCKIN' LEAVE ALREADY!
Tch...
About me?
Are you kidding mortal?
There is nothing nice at all to know about me.
I kill pink bunnies and eat them for breakfast.
But, nooooooooooooooooo, my pansy host, decides that bunnies are cute, and should not be eaten.
Who is the pansy?
Tch, Jasmine of course!
18 years of age soon, and she still hasn't grown ANY backbone yet!
Oh the horror!
And I'll let you in on a secret...
She is actually pretty evil on the inside.
Don't tell her i told you.
That's why I choose her.
The potential for evilness.
But like i said, she's too much a pansy and self-conscientious to do anything.
Anyway, a warning for you.(She threatened me to tell you.)
I'm rabid, I'm psycho and I'm not nice.
I'll bite anyone i want, and NOBODY can stop me!
Scratch that. Jasmine can.
Tch, self-introduction done.
Can i get on to my fuckin' bashing now?!
The insanity begins.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Shhh... I'm going to let you in on a little little secret of mine...
I love poetry. Especially the meaningful, thoughtful ones.
Don't tell Jasmine I said that. She'd laugh.
Anyway, heartless bastard that I am, I... ahem... no, Jasmine, found this sentimental crap to share with ya all. Enjoy.
--------------------------------
Don't be fooled by me. Don't be fooled by the face I wear for I wear a mask, a thousand masks, masks that I'm afraid to take off, and none of them is me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me, but don't be fooled, for God's sake don't be fooled. I give you the impression that I'm secure, that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without, that confidence is my name and coolness my game, that the water's calm and I'm in command and that I need no one, but don't believe me. My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask, ever-varying and ever-concealing. Beneath lies no complacence. Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness. But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it. I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed. That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind, a nonchalant sophisticated facade, to help me pretend, to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only hope, and I know it. That is, if it's followed by acceptance, if it's followed by love. It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself, from my own self-built prison walls, from the barriers I so painstakingly erect. It's the only thing that will assure me of what I can't assure myself, that I'm really worth something. But I don't tell you this. I don't dare to, I'm afraid to. I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance, will not be followed by love. I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me. I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing and that you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate pretending game, with a facade of assurance without and a trembling child within. So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks, and my life becomes a front. I tell you everything that's really nothing, and nothing of what's everything, of what's crying within me. So when I'm going through my routine do not be fooled by what I'm saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying, what I'd like to be able to say, what for survival I need to say, but what I can't say.
I don't like hiding. I don't like playing superficial phony games. I want to stop playing them. I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me but you've got to help me. You've got to hold out your hand even when that's the last thing I seem to want. Only you can wipe away from my eyes the blank stare of the breathing dead. Only you can call me into aliveness. Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging, each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings-- very small wings, very feeble wings, but wings!
With your power to touch me into feeling you can breathe life into me. I want you to know that. I want you to know how important you are to me, how you can be a creator--an honest-to-God creator-- of the person that is me if you choose to. You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble, you alone can remove my mask, you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic, from my lonely prison, if you choose to. Please choose to.
Do not pass me by. It will not be easy for you. A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls. The nearer you approach to me the blinder I may strike back. It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man often I am irrational. I fight against the very thing I cry out for. But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls and in this lies my hope. Please try to beat down those walls with firm hands but with gentle hands for a child is very sensitive.
Who am I, you may wonder? I am someone you know very well. For I am every man you meet and I am every woman you meet.
