I am Spirit. My language isn't descriptive, but it can be quite poetic. Sometimes. I created the account out of sheer boredom and absolute bleakness and scarlet loneliness that have been joyfully decorating every corner of the room of my brain. I thought this blog would be a dieary (diary) of a sort, for the most part. Other than that, I guess I'm just a human. I have been on this earth for what it seems two decades and three years. I'm a Scorpio. October has a special meaning in my life. You may/may not discover the story. I have a terribly short dark brown hair, quite identical to the color of my eyes. I'm not gay. But people like to think that I am. So I let them think what they fancy to. I love silence. I don't know how to talk to people. It's rather ironic seeing that Mass Communication is my minor. I'm rather meticulous. I love editing people's writings. I write a lot. It's either in my dieary, or my blogs. Rhyming words I write cannot be considered poems or songs, they're too humble to accept it. I think far too much before I "utter" a word or make a statement. It's quite irksome. I'm self conscious and slightly overly precocious. I'm far better writer than a speaker, I think. I tend to digress way too much when I write. When I talk. Yet I merely write and speak as I see things inside of my head. Chaos. Often. I have had more friends who I can trust and comfortably "talk to" online, than in person/in real life (offline). I can't have friends in real life due to... many things; my eccentric personality makes for a huge factor. I disappoint people. Social interaction doesn't interest me a bit. Books and silence do. I love the color red. I especially love crimson, hence the title and the background of this blog. I'm not typically profane. But I swear. Yet it's only when I'm under some pressure or not in the mood. Swearing isn't quite my habit, mind. I've morbid fascination towards Death, Blood, Darkness and the like. I've been bulimic for what seems like forever. Yet it's only been seven years, now. I was anorexic since the age of six. I'm anemic, too. I don't have the best memories. I just am thankful for the fact that despite all of what I've been through, I managed to learn a lot and be a useful creature-- at least to the few people I come to meet on the internet. I lack the will to live, at times. At many times. I relive the horror of my past every now and then. PTSD, ED, BPD, APD, and other "personality," "mental" and "psychological" disorders. I believe that there's still good in everyone. I have little to zero hope in me living and making it through my 20s. I have major abdominal issues, and both my kidneys and liver are in a rather sad condition. My heart is not any less unwell, as well. All of that is self inflected. I read. I paint. I write morbid poetry and lyrical prose. I love art, rabbits, trees and birds. Nature in general and the small things in life fascinate me. If I lived... I would like to be a school teacher (primary school teacher that is) and an animal advocate. Raise rabbits. And grow sunflowers.
My wish before I die is to be able to leave a mark in this world (small be it or big) that the entire humanity will benefit from through the years. Yet my last wish remains: I want to be forgotten.
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