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[tameriaen]

What a creepy day it’s been. Not your normal kind of creep, but some super kind of creep. I hate my wanderlust; I hate my constant thinking. This house is in a state of unrest, and said unrest permeates and matriculates through all of us (some more so than others.) There’s no escape for me-people outside ramble on about strange sick things, and

Comments

So...

[anonymous]

You seem to have mistaken this blog for your electrical-tape bound tome of despair and your keyboard for your raven's feather quill pen. Wanderlust is very poetic, I agree, especially for a tragic heart as yourself - this world truly is too harsh for one as sensitive as you and I hope that one day you stumble upon that warm inviting place that you don't know that you search for, perhaps at the bottom of an ancient lake under the earth filled with briny water and electrical eels that burn your life from you with the ultimate irony being that one day scientists will find your bones and reconstruct you to show the future generations what a queer goth looked like. Lame-ass.
-Gambol

Re: So...

[tameriaen]

What do you want from me? I’m a recovering goth-we’re mopey creatures by nature-there is little I can say or do to remedy that, save commit my self to my final solace, sweet solitude in a sepulcher-oh my princess Ennui, do not ever leave my heart. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to pretend I’m Baudelaire while writing a love letter to Poe.

Re: So...

[vox_dei]

Darker!