About
I dislike self minded idiots who tend to consider themselves something they are not. I hate mainstream music and people claiming to be "against mainstream" and yet they listen to that type of music. I listen to music that MAKES SENCE!My favorite anime and manga is "Elfen Lied" because there is symbolizm, phsychological, and horror elements. It also explains how the real world is and how bad people are and can be.
DO NOT bash my opinions and feelings towards something. Its how I feel about it. I don't want to start a pointless argument. Making friends has become a very complicated task to do because many of them betray you or stab you in the back thus, ending a friendship. I also have a hard time trusting people.
I believe in aliens, ghosts, demons, aliens, UFO's, and poltergeists. Once again, do not bash my beliefs or opinions because bashing my beliefs is like me telling you "There is no god". So please, DO NOT bash them.
I hate it when people try to be a part of a subculture they don't know anything about. I also hate it when they try to be "unique" and yet they steal each other's styles. This proves why isolation is the best choice.
I have an obsession with gray weather. What I mean by "gray weather" I mean rain, sleet, snow, fog, overcast, and drizzle.
Ein ganz kleines Elfchen im Walde schlief
wohl um die Elfe!
Und meint, es rief ihm aus dem Tal
bei seinem Namen die Nachtigall,
oder Silpelit hätt' ihm gerufen.
Reibt sich der Elf' die Augen aus,
begibt sich vor sein Schneckenhaus
und ist als wie ein trunken Mann,
sein Schläflein war nicht voll getan,
und humpelt also tippe tapp
durch's Haselholz in's Tal hinab,
schlupft an der Mauer hin so dicht,
da sitzt der Glühwurm Licht an Licht.
Was sind das helle Fensterlein?
Da drin wird eine Hochzeit sein:
die Kleinen sitzen bei'm Mahle,
und treiben's in dem Saale.
Da guck' ich wohl ein wenig 'nein!«
Pfui, stößt den Kopf an harten Stein!
Elfe, gelt, du hast genug?
Gukuk!
-Eduard Mörike
A very small elf was asleep in the wood -
just around the eleven! -
And he thinks that the nightingale
must have called him by name from the valley,
or Silpelit might have sent for him.
So the elf rubs his eyes,
comes out of his snail-shell house,
and is like a drunken man,
his nap was not finished;
and he hobbles down, tip tap,
through the hazel wood into the valley,
slips right up to the wall;
there sits the glow-worm, light on light.
"What are those bright windows?
There must be a wedding inside;
the little people are sitting at the feast,
and fooling around in the ballroom.
So I'll just take a peep in!"
Shame! he hits his head on hard stone!
Well, elf, had enough, have you?
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
-Eduard Mörike





