A Game Called "Self Doubt"

Hello again, world.

Unfortunately, this is not my review over the movie Beastly.

Why?

Because I’m pissed. My body is literally thrumming with anxiety and fury and a bit of depression.

My friends, the people that I thought I could depend on forever, bashed me in one of my weak moments.

They don’t seem to realize that I’m not the strongest person. The past six months have been hell for me. I lost the man I consider to be my father (though he was my grandfather by name), and then a month later my house burned down, taking everything with it. A month to the day later, the cat killed my hamster. Two-ish weeks later, they demolish our house without informing us. It was supposed to be my closer. And it’s gone. All of it. Now I can’t even salvage anything.

Not only that, but if you haven’t noticed from my occasional self-beatings, I hate myself. I am my own worst enemy. Literally. Every time I say something, that voice is in the back of my mind whispering about how I messed up this or screwed up that. It’s there when I’m smiling, telling me that happiness is an illusion. It’s there when I’m disheartened, feeding my self-loathing. It’s there in my moments of joy and bliss, worming its way in, telling me that I’m doing something wrong, that I shouldn’t be happy. It’s there when I’m headed to lunch or dinner, telling me that I’m fat, that I don’t need to eat, that if I eat, no one will like me because I’m fat. It’s there when I write, crossing out and marking my words with a red pen, leaving nothing untouched. It’s there when I stare in the mirror, telling me that they’re wrong, I’m not beautiful; I’m ugly.

Every guy that has ever called my beautiful has hurt me, be it physically, mentally, or emotionally.

So it any wonder that I’m so skittish around them now, even when I try my best to hide it?

And guys! The voice is always there, always snickering quietly, always and unendingly present when I’m near my guy friends. They don’t like me for me, guys only want sex/to get laid, they only want eye candy. And I know that’s not true. But sometimes the voice raises some valid points, and I can’t dispute them.

It is evident in my lack of sleep, my nightmares, the scars that I picked at while they were healing, the gouges and tears around my nails. It’s there. It’s always there, and if you look close enough, you can see it.

So I don’t understand why they can’t.

Knowing what you know now about my situation, take our conversation into consideration.

I was messing around on my phone, texting my friend Rachel because I was craving a roleplay, and I was thinking about asking her to start up a new one with me on one of our boards. My roommate stopped me and asked who I was texting, so I told her, “Just texted Facebook about our adventure and now I’m texting Rachel.” Our hallmate blinked dumbly, not knowing which Rachel I’d be talking to that late, so I clarified, “My friend Rachel, from California.” And I’m not sure who, though I think it was my roommate, said, “That’s impossible! You don’t have any friends.”

And it hurt.

Five words. Five tiny, insignificant little words, and they cut me to the bone.

I joked back about how “of course I had friends, they were my friends, too”. Then the hallgirl told me that she didn’t have to drive me there. She and my roommate could have left me back at the dorms. They could have left me behind while they went to get their ice cream. They didn’t have to take me, and they didn’t have to take me home either. (And good lord, had they left me there, I would have been in fine form. Would have sat in that shop, called mom and told her everything, then called one of the people I trust to come and get me. Then I would have talked to the Res Hall about moving my roommate out of my room.)

Maybe they realized they’d gone too far.

Suddenly, they were both joking about how they obviously loved me, or they wouldn’t have taken me with them in the first place. Hallgirl drove, after all.

I have my own car. I have gas. I have better music. I am a safer driver. I knew exactly where I was going. I could have driven myself. I could have gone to get the ice cream on my own. I wasn’t really hungry. I was tired and wanted to sleep. I had homework. I had things I could have stayed behind to do. But I didn’t. I figured it would be a good bonding experience. So I went.

And then that happened.

They didn’t seem to notice I was silent the entire way back. They didn’t notice that I was buried in my phone, my lifeline between Rachel, Shawn and I. They didn’t notice I was crying. They didn’t notice.

And if they did, they neither asked, nor made any move to fix it.

On the way back, I texted Rachel and, on impulse, a guy I trusted.

Rachel just told me she loved me and that they were wrong. She didn’t just love me as a friend, she loved me as a little sister, and that I shouldn’t let them be bitches and get to me.

His conversation was… Different.

Me-just-after-the-incident: Girls are vicious and cruel, especially to each other. Why do guys put up with us?
Guy-I-trust-enough-to-put-on-the-spot: Ha ha that’s an excellent question. I guess we figure the good qualities outweigh the bad. Or some are just horny.

He then inquired about why I’d asked and I informed him that some teasing and jokes hit a little too close to home. And he apologized. He did nothing wrong, and he apologized. After a bit of talking, he told me that maybe I should take a break from them and, when asked why, I should explain my position on things.

And I know they’re going to feel bad, and I honestly want them to, though it’s probably wrong of me, but still. I grew up among people that, looking back, were never really my friends. They usually wanted something from me. Or they bullied and harassed me. And in grade school, teachers never really notice anything like that, even when it’s happening in front of their very eyes. Unless there’s blood involved, of course.

Which is why Katie Krisp got in trouble in 5th grade for punching me. Which is why that kindergartener “with issues” got in trouble for giving me a concussion and nearly knocking me out in 4th grade.

Do you see the pattern?

No one cares unless there’s physical damage, and even then, it’s like, “Oh. They’re fighting. Whoops.”

Bunch of prigs.

In any case, middle school was better. I found people I could rely on, and we stuck together all through high school. But now that I’m a college student and I don’t live in the town with my family save for the weekends, I don’t see them. Life goes on whether we want it to or not. We…. We just have to deal with it.

In any case. It’s 1 am and I’m hungry for real food and flat out exhausted.

I have therapy in the morning, and you can bet that this will be coming up during it.

Ever yours,
And doubting herself more than ever,
The Night Thief

PS: You can bet I’m hugging him tomorrow. For making the voice shut up for a bit and for lending me the strength to be strong again, I could practically kiss him.

PPS: And yes, this is the guy I mention in the rant before this. Ironic, no?

PPPS: Thanks. I like helping and listening so if ya ever need to vent don’t hesitate to call or text. – I could swoon right now. Seriously. A guy that cares enough about people to listen? How in the world is he still single?

Love, Your Own Worst Enemy

Did you know that if you stay away for more than 24 hours, your blood with have a blood alcohol level of .1? That you would be considered legally drunk?

Bet you weren’t expecting to hear that!

Oh, no lie, I wasn’t expecting it either. But that’s what I found out during lunch today.

Ironically, that brings me to my rant of the day.

Let's get started, shall me?

Dear Thief,

You absolute moron, what have you done?

With any one else, this would be funny, something to laugh over and tease about

I know you better than I care to admit.

This boy, should you reach out to let him know about all of...this...when he knows, he’s going to rip you apart. He’ll think you’re joking, like you do whenever you’re harassing the Preut. He’ll think it’s just a game, and he won’t be serious about it.

Besides, I’m sure you remember the last time you let someone know you liked them. Remember Jaren? He had a secret girlfriend for months, hiding her from everyone. She then had his son. And then he cheated on her. With someone that looked like you. When they were married, she was blond with lond hair. When you cut yours, hers disappeared, too. You feel so sorry for her, for him. For putting pressure on the two of them. And then there’s Seth. Remember him? The one that told you that you had nothing to live for because you weren’t a Christian? The one you pined after for years upon years upon years? The one that set you into the first stages of depression. The one that gave you a reason to hate yourself.

Yeah. Boys and you? Like fire and water. .... Flammable water.

You gave them another chance with....him. Hoping against all hope that he'd realize that maybe you wouldn’t be the same, that you understood how difficult living when your own worst enemy stalked your every action, word, and thought.

You can see for yourself how well that turned out. He considers you a friend, sure, but you’ll never be good enough for him.

And then there’s him. The new one. That one that makes me laugh and smile even when you want to curl up in a ball and sob in hysterics. The one that can switch between accents with enviable ease. The one that was so worried about the musical beign a failure (and how wrong he was!). The one who you harassed the first day into the new semester because he was the “new kid” in class.

Yeah. Him.

Please. Stop. Tell your heart to stop, to let the brain take control for a while. I’m tired of seeing you get hurt.

You’re falling hard, and you’re falling fast.

And God, it’s going to hurt when you hit the ground.

Why must you put yourself through this torture?

You don’t love yourself. you physically can’t bring yourself to. So how in the world can you even expect these people to love you when you can’t even love yourself? You know as well as I do that even if you could maintain a relationship, you would be worried that you weren’t good enough for him, or that you’re bringing him down. You’ll think that he’ll be better off without you. Then you’ll cut him lose and shove him away until he sees the real you.

So tell me, why are you doign this? Why are you subjecting yourself to this degrading state of mind? Why are you letting boys get to you? Why are you letting this hit you so damn hard?

I don’t know.

And I don’t think you do, either.

Do what you want. I know you will anyway. Your/my heart doesn’t listen to reason anyway.

Just remember to savor it. Savor what you have, because he’ll be gone in a year. And you’re never important enough for anyone to come back.

Please, be careful.

Love,
And I do love you,
Your Own Worst Enemy

Three Birds with One Stone ;; A Human Moment

Hello, world!

It snowed again. I'm absolutely furious, if you haven't already guessed. .... Though, those of you know know me, yeah. You probably know. And you're probably just as annoyed/bothered/furious. Way to be fantastic like that. <3

In any case, I have the burning urge to rant and ultimately bitch about something. And because I have several topics at my disposal.... LET'S PESTER THE ROOMIE AND GET HER OPINION!! XD

Possible topics: Family, classes, snow/winter, high schoolers, Chanticleer's director and the master class (whish ties to high schoolers), the music lab, human rights, Valentine's Day, you-know-who/love, the house, Twilight (which ties to high schoolers and the master class), Chanticleer, piano, smart people who transfer out of classes and leave you hanging (BRIANTHISMEANSYOU!>|)

Me: HEY! =D Picky two numbers between..... *counts* One and fourteen! :3
Roomie: ..... What?
Me: Pick two numbers between one and fourteen?
Roomie: ..................... Four.
Me: And?
Roomie: ........................... Twelve.
Me: *type, type, type* Fouuuurrrr....and.....twelve. Hmmmmmm...... *counting them out* High schoolers~ aaand..... Chanticleer!
Roomie: ..... *blank stare, obviously thinking something like, ‘what is my wingnut roommate up to now?’
Me: Wanna pick another~~~?
Roomie: ............. Seven.
Me: AND VALENTINE’S DAY! WIN. *does a dance*
Roomie: ................................... *casually ignores, resumes her activities on the laptop*
Me: *eventually decides that ranting/raving about Chanticleer might be better left for a day when it’s been a good day, that she can’t rant over high schoolers without opening the can of worms labelled “Chanticleer’s director” and “Twilight”, and that she should do Valentine’s Day on....of course....Valentine’s Day, and so she chooses topics 1, 3, 8, and whatever else happens to strike her fancy*

So, let it begin.

First, to the issue of the snow.

I have, as you can see below, prepared a haiku to winter/snow that covers my feelings quite nicely. :3 Enjoy.

Snow so blinding white
Obnoxious, cold, and freezing
Go fucking die now.

Great, isn’t it?

This, everyone, is what my college tuition is going to. Crappy haikus about snow. *insert nods here*

.... Okay, actually, my tuition is going towards my learning of state cities to use in litany poems. xD; I have Nebraska. .... Which I should be working on right now. Talk. About. Fail. But I’m really tired.... I’ll probably end up finishing it in the morning simply because I’m so tired right now that I’m probably misspelling things.

.... Crap. My lip is bleeding. From two different places. ... Wait, maybe three. *rolls eyes, facepalms* I need to yank myself from this habit before I tear my lip open, or something. ... Actually, I need a worry stone. .............. My worry stone was at the house. ..................... I need a new worry stone. I should go to the park or the cemetery or something and fine one. Or maybe back behind chapel. .... If it weren’t so snowy.

GAH! And here’s the snow again, ruining my life and plans.

Oh well. I’ll just... I’ll manage. Maybe I’ll make one. .... Or. Maybe I’ll just keep gnawing at my lip.

[/insert rant on how gnawing at my lip is self-destructive behavior and how I’m secretly in need of help and other fun things]

OKAY. THAT BEING DONE.

Onto my next rant. ..... Topic isssss....

Family.

God. Sometimes, I really hate that word. Other times I love it, but right now I’m hating it.

As some people have come to notice, I’ve been attempting to distance myself somewhat from my family, as I kinda need the air to breathe. Otherwise, my family would simply drive me insane, To the point of no return.

I’ve already freaked out my roommate several times by simply stomping out of the room to mash around on a piano over there ( piano with pedals, which my keyboard does not have). I’ve worried both her and several others in my hall as well as the guy I like. I have panic attacks all the time now. I’ve stopped eating breakfast. When I eat lunch or dinner, I usually have ceral or salad (of course, sometimes the food seriosuly just sucks). I go for late walks at night with my camera. I’ve been roleplaying a lot, mainly with the roomie and Rachel (which, by the way, Luce and Kaylee are still hellishly adorable, holyfreakingcrap). I don’t sleep much at night, and when I sleep, it’s never a good sleep. Too light. And... The smoke. I smell it all the time now, an endless reminder of what I saw and what I’ll always remember. I doubt I could sit by a campfire without having another panic attack.

.... Okay, wait. Maybe some of this behavior of mine is somewhat self-destructive. .... It’s not my fault that this is how I deal with things. After being verbally and mentaly abused by the male half of my Rental Units (one of the reasons why I’m actually quite afraid of trusting myself in the company of guys, as I fear they’re like my male Rental Until [hereby known as MRU]) ever since the divorce, I’ve had this thing about letting people see how weak I am. If I’m not strong... Well, I’m screwed. If I’m not strong, I’ve failed myself. And usually I’ve failed other people as wel.

I’m prideful. I admit it. I have pride, and I have a lot of it. I also have an incredibly low self-esteem. Why? Because when you’re called fat by your father enough, and when your mother calls you stupid and worthless enough, you begin to start believing them. I went through a phase back in my early years of high school where I didn’t eat at all during the day. I skipped breakfast because it messed with my meds, lunch (provided by the cafeteria) sucked rocks, and I never had any appetite at dinner, especially if I was at MRU’s.

The first place I found a family outside of my blood relatives was in my high school’s choirs. They were my family. Though it wasn’t often, we talked. Often as a group. If we ever needed someone to talk to individually, our director was there, and my senior year when I was a part of Project X, we all were closer than ever because we shared and we were literally family. We took care of each other.

Other than the choirs, I found “family” in a ragtag group of brats that I still consider very much to be my family. They were my underclassmen and a couple that happened to be in my own age group. But most were all younger than me, ironically. And yet, we were family. We were a close knit group of people that, regardless of our intrests and backgroups, we loved each other, and we took care of our own.

But today’s not that day to get started on Alex. Not today. It still hurts when I think about it too much.

After high school, after leaving behind everything to attend college, I didn’t expect to join another family. But I did. Maybe they recruited me. Maybe I recruited them. Either way, after half of a semester, I found myself closer to a grupf of girls than I’d ever been with practically anyone. After a whole semester and into interterm, I found out who I could really count on. When my house was burning, when my life was shattering around me, I found who my family was. It wasn’t my brother who made my mother cry, it wasn’t my mother who yelled at me for getting revenge, it wasn’t my aunt.

It was the girls of my hallway, the ones that constantly badgered my to-be-roomie for information regarding what was happening. It was those girls that left messages saying they missed me on Facebook. It was those girls who met me the day I came back, hugging me so tight I could barely breathe.

Main Floor East Side Irwin Girls, forever. <3

So, family. Blood is thicker than water, true enough, but sometimes you find that “family” isn’t always defined by the people you’re related to by blood. If home is where the heart is, then family is the people you care about who care about you.

These girls are my family, and my dorm room here at Baker, surrounded by people I love and who love me, this is my home.

[/rant]

[rant=you-know-who]

And I don’t mean Voldemort.

I don’t understand. Or... I do, but I don’t.

You’re so strong. You’re one of the strongest people I know, so why do you do this to yourself? Why do you hurt yourself like this, telling yourself that you’re not good at something when you are, that you’re stupid or worthless when you’re not? Why do you continue with this, living a miserable existance when there are people that only want to see you happy again. They want you to be happy, to see your smie and know that you’re actually okay.

No matter how many times you say that I don’t know you, I think I know you better than you want to admit. I’m not stupid. Just because I’m blonde doesn’t mean I’m completely oblivious. Being blonde means I have to overcome a stereotype simply so that I can prove that I really am smart, that I deserve respect just as much as a girl with red hair, or a brunette.

I’ve seen you. I’ve seen you smile. I’ve seen you laugh. I’ve seen you looking like you were on top of the world. I’ve seen you on a bad day. I’ve seen you on a worse day. I’ve seen him, too.. i’ve met him, talked to him. I don’t see what the issue is. So he’s an ass. He’s just jealous of you. I’ve kept your secret. And though you may assume otherwise, I have no plans on telling anyone. I have no plans on calling you on it, saying something stupid or nasty about it.

You’ll say something, and I’ll counter it, and though you’ll say you did such-and-such, I’ll know that it’s creative truth. You’re not realy into destruction of property, and you know better than to destroy something that’s not yours, though you may jack it for a couple hours to tease me. And really, unless it’s my workbook and I need it, I don’t mind. Granted, I complain, but I know you’ll either give it back, or you’ll leave it somewhere for me to find.

So.... Just so you know, you can only say you’re evil and that I don’t know you a couple times before things like this happen. Like I said, I may be blonde, but I’m smart. I have a wad of random facts that I can spew out as a moment’s notice. I can take a man down with one of five easy-to-reach points on the body. Same with a woman. I can knock someone out. Gouge out an eye. Leap from a building or a bridge (but not Golden Gate; it’s the impact with the water that kills you). Ram a car. Make my own lipbalm. Diagnose alcohol poinsoning. Treat a gunshot wound.

I’m not stupid. And I don’t fall for the same trick more than once or twice.

You’re you, just as I’m me and my roommie is your sibthing. We are who we are, and we can’t change that. So don’t try to. Be yourself. Be who you want to be without fearing what thers are saying. You never know, maybe that’s all that you ever really needed.

I love you. I wish I could say this to your face. I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me. I wish I could tell you. I wish I could simply ask for a moment to be human and hug you, I wish I could tell you. But I’m a coward.

Way to fail, me. Way. To. Fail.

In any case, I think I’m going to go to bed. I’m exhausted.

Ever Yours,
and wishing, thought not for the first time, for a “human moment” of her own,
The Night Thief

Rantrantrant- Oooh, Shiny!

Hello my lovies! Did you miss me much?

Fine. >: I didn't miss you either.

Now, the reason I've been MIA for weeks is because, well, summer break and slothliness absolutely hate me. I recently realized, much to my disbelief, that I've made more friends in the underclassmen from my school that I have in the graduated class of seniors. That is both sad and a little weird, am I right?

Okay, so... Today has been... A weird day. Like... Incredibly über freaking weird. And right now... I hate it.

So let's begin our rants, yeah?

[rant=life]

Okay, folks. I thought we cleared the air up pretty well before, but I guess people still don't understand things. So let me simplify things a bit more...

Life is not supposed to drive people to suicidal conditions, okay? It's really not. And with what I've been witnessing recently, it has been. Too much pressure from adults, too much pressure from school, too much pressure from girl/boyfriends, too much everything!

What ever happened to just being a kid?

Oh. Wait. That's right...

Our economy's failing. Obama sucks. Our school systems are going down the drain. Spastic weather. Psychotic natural disasters. I could go on for hours... But I think you get the drift.

So I suppose that means that what we once knew as adolescence is now obsolete. We in Generation Y, supposedly the genius generation, go straight from childhood to adulthood with no period in between.

What a suckish hand of cards that our generation has been dealt.

I don't have much else to say on this topic for now except... Live like there's no tomorrow and fuck those that try to stop you.

[/rant]

[rant=love]

Love sucks.

Seriously.

It fucks with our heads and messes with everyone around us.

So why do we put up with it?

Because. Without love, humanity is nothing more than an educated beast.

In this 21st century, the most deady disease is that people feel unloved.

So love. Love like there's going to be no tomorrow, because one day there won't be.

[/rant]

[rant=music]

I <3 music.

:]

Music = Life.

Music on. World off.

[/rant]

And I'm done for now.

Class is about to end, and I've gotta find somewhere to go if I'm going to continue skulking around the school.

Happy birthing day, Zack.

Ever yours,
The Night Thief

Two Rants and a Smidge of Relief

Well.

It’s done.

The senior project I try my best not to complain about? Yeah. It’s done.

So that’s where I’ve been these past couple weeks. Pulling up a class grade from 44% to 74%, skittering around to finish the forms, throwing my portfolio together... And passing Senior Boards.

And now I’m one step closer to graduating. Finals on Monday and Tuesday. A couple dozen letters to write for friends. Graduation on Thursday. ... I’m totally ready for this.

But, in other news, my friend is totally not ready for life. And that brings me to my rant(s) for the day.

[rant=life]

First things first.

I don’t give a flying fuck who you are, if you’re a parent and you have a young kid going through a stressful period in their life, it is not your job to pull them aside and tell them to get over it. It may be your job to aid them in choosing a life direction, but it’s absolutely not your job to make them choose during the afore mentioned stressful period.

Personally, I’m lucky enough to have a mother that ‘remembers’ how it feels to be a teenager and a father that truly doesn’t give a shit.

Other people? Not so much.

So let’s say it now and get this nonsense over with.

Unless you can accurately fill the shoes of your kid, don’t try and tug their life around. Especially if they’re from BSHS. They get a lot more shit than adults think, and that school is sinking into the ground like a lead weight in quicksand.

Don’t act like you know it all. Just let your kids be kids for a while. Our economy sucks balls. Let them enjoy being young while they can.

[/rant]

One down, one more to get through.

[rant=love]

Dear Stupid Retards That Think They Know Everything,

FUCK YOU!

You have absolutely no RIGHT to tell me who I can and cannot love. I’m loud, I’m proud, and I will never change. Nothing you do will ever make me stop being me, so get over yourself and get the hell outta my sight.

And that means that the fact that I like other chicks? My decision. If that grossses you out, the door out can be found in the back button. Click it and get out. We don’t want you here.

Guys liking guys not your thing? Ignore it. You’re probably a closet case anyway.

So get over your trip and join the club. Love is love, no matter the gender.

Nuff said.

[/rant]

Now. We all clear? I think I’ve made my point very clear... But feel free to ask questions.

And on to new topics...

I passed senior boards. ... Did I already say that? Yeah. Whoops.

CAUTION~ Floating letters ahead. :D

Yeah.

And.

... I want a Kodoma/forest spirit/imp from the movie Princess Mononoke. ... Like, bad. D:

Okay. I’m shifting from topic to topic. It’s obvious that I need sleep, so I’ma shift out.

Night, all.
Ever Yours,
but unusually über tired,
The Night Thief

How It Ends -- Review

I can finally write a review for this. Finally. It took a solid day to gather my thoughts... But I did it. :] So let's take it from the top. :]

Novel::

"How It Ends" by Laura Wiess

Summary::

All Hanna's wanted since Sophomore year is Seth. She's one out with other uys, even ained a rep for being a flirt, all the while hoping cool, guitar-playing Seth will choose her. Then she gets him -- but their relationship is hurtful, stormy and critical, not at all what Hanna thinks a perfect love should be. Bewildered by Seth's treatment of her and in need of understanding, Hanna decides to fulfill her school's community service requirement by spending time with Helen, her terminally ill neighbor, who she's turned to for comfort and wisdom throughout her life. But illness has changed Helen into someone Hanna hardly knows, and her home is not the refuge it once was. Feeling more alone than ever, Hanna gets drawn into an audiobook the older woman is listening to, a fierce, unsettling story of passion, sacrifice, and devotion. Hanna's fascinated by the idea that such an all-encompassing love can truly exist, and without her even realizing it, the story beings to change her. Until the day when the story becomes all too real...and Hanna's world is spun off its axis by its shattering, irrevocable conclusion.

My Thoughts::

"How It Ends" hit me hard and hit me fast. It might have been because I know how Hanna felt in the proloue. I've been through a tough time that eventually did lead to a divorce, and like any young child would, I blamed myself. And I felt an immediate kinship with Helen who had to create a fictional world to keep young-Hanna happy. Being an older sister to a younger brother took a lot out of me, especially when his questions went on and on and on.

As the years went on, Helen reminded me distinctly of my own grandmother, now deceased, who would also take in the stray cats (once-owned by people who decided that dropping them in the middle of BFE was a good idea) from the area and feed them and slowly gain their trust.

And as the story progresses, you see that Seth is... Well. He's a pain. Simply put, be glad he's not real. Sure, there are guys like him out there... But after reading this, you'll know who they are and what they're reeeally doing. And you can slap a hazard stickeron him, or something. >:]

More than likely, if I reveal too much more, I'll spoil the whole story... So go and check this book out and read for yourself "How It Ends".

Hah. :D Play on words, see? ... Well. It was corny. But I tried. =P

Seriously though, go read it.

Rating::

FIVE out of FIVE stars!

Well. Time to skip out...

I have pie to eat, after all. >:D

Ever Yours,
The Night Thief

Day of Silence

Good morning, world!

Well, maybe not 'good', but morning nonetheless.

Today is the 16th of April, also known as National Day of Silence. And unless you're absolutely clueless, you've realized that I'm participating. No speaking. No singing. No conversing. No nothing. Silence. It'll probably suck, considering that more than half my classes are based upon the act of singing/speaking... But whatever. I'll show my duct tape sign and paper slip and they'll GET OVER IT!

So what about you? Any duct tape and sharpies nearby? A shirt that (ironically) says "silence is golden, duct tape is silver', or something to that effect? Pages of paper with the summary paragraph from the DoS website? Join the cause.

For almost everyone out there, this cause should hit home. Almost all women are bi-curious or bisexual. A lot of 'hOMG, dun talk to me you fag' men are really just closet cases. Yaoi and yuri fangirls and fanboys.... Yeah. No more need for discussion on that topic.

Show your support. Be silent for a day.

Prevent someone's suicide because they're being abused for having the ability to LOVE.

Love is impossible to fight against. You cannot help who you love. Trust me. I've tried.

Hello! My name is The Night Thief, and today I will be completely and absolutely silent in order to protest the abuse of gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender persons. Thank you for your cooperation.

Accept the challenge,
The Night Thief