Sometimes i like to sit in my room late at night, listening to bands like the smiths or joy division, while wracking my brain over the works of german existential philosophers such as Nietzsche, or reading the works of russian literature by Tolstoy, or possibly when im in a lighter mood, a little H.P. Lovecraft. But when im not reading the works of people who i've been told make me look smarter, i enjoy wallowing in my own misery and self-hatred. But don't worry, my masachism and poor self-esteem are just attempts at covering up my unbelievably inflated ego and idea of self worth. Why else would i expect pity for my normal and leisurely life unless i though i was imprtant enough to warrant the respect of others?

OH BTW I LUV A PERFECT CIRCLE, BEN FOLDS AND GUSTER. LES CHAT ON AIM KEKE ^.^, YOU LIEK ANIME? ME 2!