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It was approximately 9 months before June 6 1982. A night that many are still trying to forget. The birth of me.�I'm 17, goth, loser etc. I�spend my time avoiding the world, and writing horrible poetry. I�live with my mother in Burlington New Jersey where nothing exciting every happens. Occasionally my dip shit brother graces us with his presence. I've never really known my father, so I do not have the opportunity to miss him. But he would probably hate me too.

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I'm a junior, I�hate school, I�had to keep changing schools in the 8th grade because of being taunted about being myself. Eventually I�want to move to New York. Manhattan to be exact. Living in a town where everyone wants to see you down and bleeding, I�think it would be a nice change.

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If you want to see pictures of me, go to my visual page. I'm single, I�like femmi-gothboi's like myself, and some girls. I utterly despise drug users. Its stupid and pointless. One day if I�decide to take over the word, I don't want to have it ruined by a flashback or and overdose.�I rarely listen to music, (yes I�know, its a sin) I do own *1* cd though, Stabbing Westward-Darkest Days. It was bought for me. Its not that I'm not open-minded, I just don't see what the big deal is.... I've written enough.