Seventeen years ago... a creature fell out of my mother's vagina. They called it Valerie, and it looks like that freak in my profile picture. I make awkward faces in pictures, deal.
My music obsession? It's a passion, get it right.
The Used are my favorite band.
My Chemical Romance saved my life.
I have OCD. In no way am I a neat freak, but I have to touch things in weird patterns, and I just really hate breathing on things. I don't understand either.
Commercials for children's toys scare the absolute living shit out of me. They creep me out...
There's a lot wrong with my head and it's not worth explaining.
I talk olot. So I would LOVE if you would talk to me, but I am incredibly annoying. I will try to refrain from correcting your shitty grammar, unless either it's really bad and I can't understand you or I just hate you. Which will probably only happen if you hate The Used or MCR or any other band that I love.
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I let myself go 'till I hit the ground.
When I'm there at the edge
In this moment I feel it, I know-
Come alive when I'm falling down.
process/reciprocate/exterminate