Who wants a fairy-tale ending?
They're not as great as they seem.
For a prince, you have to wait forever,
An evil villain is good enough for me.
I'll leave the princes for all those princesses,
The knights for maids in distress.
Simply give me the dastardly villain --
Maybe then I'd be impressed.
Princes are far too predictable,
And knights turn out to be knaves,
What I want is something different,
Maybe a pirating life on the waves!
I don't want a man in bright colors,
He can't wear more makeup than me.
I want a man to surprise me,
Not ride around on a steed.
Kidnap me in the night through a window,
Cause slaying the dragon's so old.
Don't invite me for tea and some biscuits,
Take me out on a fight -- now that's bold!
Don't take me dancing at a ball
(Unless blood is the main course),
Don't baby me, or be too polite:
Let me see darkness; we can both use force.
Give me passion and danger!
Give me blood and gore!
But you have been warned:
I'm no man's whore.
It won't be easy,
You may have to fight.
Oh, and be careful!
Cause this chica bites.
You can have your pretty sunsets,
I don't need that flowing skirt.
Just give me a night with a full moon,
I'll slip on some pants and a shirt.
Who wants a fairy-tale ending?
They're not all they're cracked out to be.
I'm just fine as the bad guy's lover,
Cause kickin' good-girl butt is for me!

No Sleeping Beauty
By [Your Favorite Stranger]

The introspectiveness that always follows reading one of Anne Rice’s Vampire novels. The absurd eloquence that my thoughts and writing always seem to have. I can tell myself that it’s all in my head (and it very well may be), but I don’t believe myself. Perhaps it’s the eloquence of the books, maybe the eloquent idea of the vampires themselves. Or perhaps it’s all a figment of my highly over-active imagination. Whatever it is, I do feel very introspective and thoughtful. I do feel like purchasing a whole wardrobe of clothes like Lestat’s, all trimmed out with lace, and, in all honesty, rather eccentric. I do feel a nudging desire to see New Orleans, go to the French Quarter, visit around after dark (which is a foolish thing to do regardless of vampires), look for Lestat, and maybe even Quinn and Mona. Why I would want to see Lestat is the question that I ask myself most, not in trying to take away the desire, but to find out what I would ask him, what I would say to him if I did happen upon him. I have, so far, come to the conclusion that I would ask him to impart to me some of the knowledge he has gained over his many years. It’s really a pretty presumptuous request, and I know that the chances of it actually being honored are laughably small, but it’s still what I’d ask. I have no wish at all to be immortal, other than to gain more knowledge and strength. I wouldn’t be able to do what I feel I am called to do. And living solely for the purpose of gaining knowledge isn’t living for much, in my opinion, especially when you aren’t technically “living” at all. I want to do something with that knowledge. I have a small hope that bringing such a request to him would appeal to Lestat’s immense, yet understandable, vanity. But why do I ramble on about this sort of thing when the Vampire Chronicles, and Lestat, and Mona, and Quinn are all fiction? Am I obsessive? Am I mad? It’s possible. I sort of like to think that a very microscopic part deep inside me knows it’s fiction. I sort of like to think that, just to keep the “mature” side of me happy. But it seems so real to me, and I desperately need something dark, and different, and magical, and impossible to believe in, so I let myself toy with these notions. As I have said before, dreams keep me alive. When I run out of dreams to believe in, what will happen to me?

Do you know the feeling you have when there is no space between you and heaven, between you and God? I know he’s always there, but when you feel that close to him, it’s just different, somehow. It’s like...the hug you always needed, but never got, it’s like all your good memories in one breath, like all your dreams can come true, like you could fly. Well, really, it’s undescribable, but I always attempt to describe the undescribable. I feel like I’m submerged in a warm, solid, yet liquid something, and I belong there like I don’t belong anywhere else. It makes me feel...perfect. If that’s a sin, I’ll repent later, because that feeling is not something I feel often. Normally, I feel like the least of God’s children (not like there is such a thing, but still), like a sinner (which I am), like a disobedient kid (which I also am, often). But when God’s around, it’s like I see me like he sees me, and that is absolutely amazing to me.

Someone save me. Please. I don’t care who or what you are, or how you do it, just save me from this. Don’t hurt me emotionally. Don’t lie to me. Don’t leave me alone. And don’t ever say you love me.

yes because it would be cool to see the new modern inventions and how life has progressed for the immortals that are too stupid to come up with the stuff before. you could also do anything.

--C. aka [Man In The Box]

Would you believe me if I said I love you?

"When the stars go blue"

Hmmh, well what do you know. I knew that Elftown had all shapes and sizes, but I've finally met the vampire Armand. Is that hot or what? I checked to see if Lestat was here too, but nope, only a little poser brat without barely a house. Armand misses his master, Marius, I'm fairly sure. I would too. Marius was awesome. Or is. I think he's still alive. Oo, bad pun. I think he's still around, that's better.

Wanna go back, want to do it again,
All the stuff that messed me up,
That felt so good,
That filled my cup.
Wanna go back and play with my friends,
The friends who held me,
Who cut my wrists,
Who set me free.

You were my sick obsession,
You were my dirty deed,
You were the drugs that got me high,
And right now, you’re what I need.

Wanna go back and poise my blade,
That whispered love into my skin,
That stroked my veins,
That helped me win.
Wanna go back and take a sip
Of the wickedly forbidden drink,
That made me laugh,
That didn’t let me think.

You were my dark secret,
You were my poison kiss,
You were my black heart,
And right now, you’re what I miss.

Oh, you were my sick obsession,
You were my dirty deed,
You were the drugs that got me high,
And right now, you’re what I need.

Dirty Deeds and Sick Obsessions
By [Your Favorite Stranger]

“In the worst storm,
In the coldest rain,
When you can’t hold on,
I’ll be back again.”
The last thing you said
Before you walked away.
All I can think
Is that today’s the day.
The storm is bad,
The rain is cold,
I’ve fallen down,
But you’re not here to hold.
You aren’t here
When I need you most:
I’ve no will to stay,
I’ll give up the ghost.
A tear falls down,
Mingles with rain.
You let me down,
Didn’t stop my pain.
I close my eyes,
I know I’ve lost,
I hoped to see you,
No matter the cost.
I start to leave,
Then hear my name.
Dare I hope
It’s not a game?
Open my eyes,
And I can live:
You are here,
Your help to give.
You bend down close,
Say, “I’m here to save”.
I’ll always remember
The help you gave:
The hand from your coat
Holds the “problem solver”;
I died with a shot
From your heart-shaped revolver.

Heart-shaped Revolver
By [Your Favorite Stranger]

I always think I'm over you,
And that's when it hits me the hardest,
Because I'm not over you.
It still hurts like hell
When I hear a song,
When I have a dream,
When I'm somewhere I was with you.
Sometimes, I remember the way you smell,
Or I hear you say "Te amo",
Or I see your eyes say you love me.
Do you know how hard it is
To know I could talk to you anytime I want?
Just pick up a phone,
Type your email address.
But that it won't ever be the same?
I can't ever have you again,
Never have you hold me,
Never have you say you love me,
Never have you protect me.
It hurts so bad sometimes
I want to die.
Just make it stop, stop, stop!
But I'll never have closure.

*wince* bad, bad, bad poetry. Raw emotion, nothing more, dismiss it.

Must find and purchase all the anime comics I've been reading. It's all [Cliché]'s fault that I'm hooked...oh well, I just have to buy the things!! Most of the online ones have at least volume one out in stores, and I do so want them!!

Hating on myself makes me happy. Oh boy, told you I was wacked. You know how people get some sort of lift out of making fun of other people? I get it from making fun of myself, from bringing myself down.

*blinks* I'm tired, tired, tired. Can't sleep at night, so I exhaust myself and then I can sleep...during the day. Gee, I'm healthy.