attempt at autobiographical free verse, taken from my other site. because i am too lazy a bugger to think up something new.

someone's worst nightmare. nissie or rin to most people, despite the mental compulsion to answer to "erin" when confronted with first meetings or an unfamiliar face. at twenty four years of age, though not required to grow up anytime soon. technical writer for now, with freelance writing and web design on the side, but has grand ambitions to one day find her way up the bestsellers' list or take a pulitzer - and perhaps one day take over the world with the aid of gene-spliced monkeys. oh, but a kingdom for a pretentious pseudonym.

not smart enough to be stupid, but not stupid enough to be smart. some days i cannot but express some wry flippant irony at why people of the fictional sublime as dr. house and rukawa kaede are harangued to the high heavens with much fangirlism, when similar people from media's counterpart called reality, are considered the palpable morons, a category i find myself encumbered with. but it's a better route, because while i am much for whoredom and failing wit at the online game, i cannot help the fewtimes meek shy facets of conservative upbringing from reasserting itself, soiling the reputation i worked so hard to destroy on the doubleyew doubleyew doubleyew. call it a self-righteous suicide; i'm not that bad, but i like to have my fun.

i am a fangirl because i love the imaginary fashions of the human mind, but shippers scare me with their anger. i am a geek because i am compulsive and sleep with the monitor on, but i am not a genius, an observation often miscontrued by my command of paltry english. there is nothing that i have not done where i do not feel traces of regret for, but the comfort in regret is the knowledge that you do not die from it.

sometimes i am the evil Bitch, because some people say that the sarcasm sometimes lies heavy, so i do not bother to dance around the online kingdom making friends anew. i have few friends in any sphere, because i am often misunderstood, though sometimes for the right reasons. i spit venom and eat my young, but i easily turn to self-cannibalism more than i feast on others, because the right to play the devil implies the prerequisite of self-depreciation. i laugh at you, but i laugh at myself more.

i am not afraid of words and of how to use them. orgasm. cunt. fuck you. i can say more. don't look so surprised. saying words do not make me a sum of their parts, and i wish people would Goddamn stop telling me otherwise.

sometimes i am Normal, though Normal is as ambiguous and nomadic as the stereotype. some days i try to be the girl next door and spout the pretty words to feel what it's like to be a part of the crowd, the good girl without the expletive. i am not always as morose as you think. i am thought of as generally a pleasant, mild-mannered woman on the planet i emerged from, and often that is a truthful observation. but there are times when i intentionally go beyond the threshold of goodness people perceive me to wallow in; it is not something to be proud of. there are days when i am more ashamed of being Normal than i am of being a Bitch.

why are there no gods of reading and writing to fall down on one's knees before? attempts at doodles are ofttimes successful, though proportionality is not an absolute. sometimes i write too much for me to make much sense of what i put on paper or keypad, though understanding is a different matter from reason. cross stitching and plushies are the closest thing to housewifery in my personal language, but the lure of sports grow stronger with every passing year. this may be in part of my fascination to attempt a jovial body weight, but more for the sheer pleasure of watching my thighs bloom and my heart grow. i am great friends with the idiot box, because it was there for me when the bed and the phones abandoned me, though it has every reason to be jealous of my frequent visits to the books brothel, which i love dearest of all. i once took up the matter of cosplay, but have lain it aside to pursue a more complex costume dedicated to the character known as Me, from a series called Life. Sometimes I wander back into the fantasy, when the call of fellow friends grow too loud.

i read everything, excepting ayn rand or anne coulter or eragon. i dabble in mysteries because i am a romantic at heart, and live for romance because mysteries entertain me. i spend my nights immersed in bedspreads with the scent of poirot's mustache, running hands down erast fandorin's greying temples as i kiss nancy drew down hardbound covers. i tread on neil gaiman's footsteps, my misguided little mind seeking to one day surpass his heights, murder in my little edmund dantes heart as i embark on this grand everyday ulysses. fantasy has and always will be my first love, and i spend many days arguing with myself whether dragons or time portals are the more sufficient means of public transportation on my way to work, before i realize my folly; for being aes sedai is not simply a day job. magic exists; the klingon dictionary tells me so.

i pride myself on the eclectic, but my tastes borders along alternative rock, adult alternative, and multilingual rock. train runs me over every time, and the fray teaches me how to save my life. i am embarrassed, i catch myself dancing in between sakura kisses and systems of a down, four seasons in loud linkin parks, and the disharmony never crosses my mind; i fail at rocker-goth, but at least i had never intended to pass.

i scoff at the pursuit of paparazzi pleasures, but hugh jackman is my exception. anime does not make me childish in the same way pornography does not get you laid. i wasted seven years of my life on yuki eiri, and i feel i shall waste far more. full blooded dog demons and strawberry shinigamis and evil mako soldiers get my vote, and i shove thoughts of boys in love down every malleable mind i meet. i believe in the existence of chocolate and ghosts and stupidity, because they make the world go round. video games help me live out someone else's life, and while i die at times, i am comforted with the knowledge that i go out with a bang. i love a man called lester, because he loves me for my faults better than he loves my worth.



x . x . x
boysdontcry.org © Nissie.
artificial soul; yuki eiri; paperheroes