OfTheMorgue

My whole life, I've never been a fearful creature. I've never hesitated to step from a high ledge, to tumble around on an unfamiliar floor cluttered with sharp things, paraphernalia, and other spooky things. I love adventure of all kinds, and I never turn the other way when things begin to shake. Death is the last thing I could ever imagine being frightened by. I have more important things than the inevitable to invest my concerns in. Death doesn't matter, so why the hell am I here at two in the morning sobbing uncontrollably because someday, the lights are gonna turn out for good and nobody will ever be home again? I'm sixteen years old, bu

It's not that I expect anything, really. I don't even think I want a response. I just want to speak words and pretend they matter for all of five seconds, that way I can return to everyday fuckery without being weighed down by disappointment in myself. Being depressed, no matter how underlying, is just not how I roll. I don't like being sad, I don't like being that one voice of all pessimism who drags all the beautiful, altruistic bleeding hearts down with me. In fact, I'm usually playing the role of the bleeding heart -- every day of my life. I pride myself on it. I hate the idea of being the source of somebody's sour feelings, save for my o

Last night, I had the honor as well as the horror of coming to the culmination of one of my favorite video game series -- Mass Effect. I created my Shepard, an Earthborn war hero vanguard with violet eyes, long mahogany hair with a speckled complexion akin to cacao, roughly a year ago in the series' first installment and played through in wonderment as I explored this incredibly detailed and vivid future, where humans are the underdogs in a bustling and active galaxy filled with other life forms and advanced technology. I loved every minute of it. I adored most, if not all, of the characters, I worked my ass off to make her the best commander