Hello everyone my name is Annala, for those of you on Twilight Archives my screen name is Trini Fan. You can also find me on DA under alanna51

Some things about me:

I have a pet parrot

I love to read

I love reviews.

YOU KNOW YOU'RE AN AUTHOR IF...

You talk to yourself a lot.
You talk to yourself about talking to yourself. (e.g. 'Why do I constantly ask my self random things?')
When you talk to yourself you often talk to yourself like you're talking to someone else. (e.g. 'Have you ever noticed that deliver could mean someones liver?')
After uttering a profound piece of wisdom like that above, you stare at the cookie in your hand with awe and say, 'Holy crap, this stuff is great for sugar highs...'
You live off of sugar and caffeine (the two greatest things ever discovered!)
You'll check your e-mail every day of the week and then disappear off the face of the earth.
You're e-mails tend to be pages long and incredibly random.
When replying to an e-mail, you'll never actually address the point of it.
You tend to collect Bic Stics off the ground like picking pennies off the ground.
No matter where you are in a room you never have to get up to find a pen/pencil and paper.
The letters on your keyboard are wearing off.
Your friends and family think that you have carpal tunnel syndrome.
People think you have A.D.D.
You think it'd be cool to have A.D.D.
You constantly start talking in third person, present or past tense.
You start thinking about making lists like this and start giggling for no "apparent" reason
Your friends stopped looking at you funny for no apparent reason a loooooong time ago.
And FINALLY, the one way to tell if you're a good writer: You failed English 101.

Re-post this if you believe homophobia is wrong. Please do your part to end it

I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.

I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.

I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.

We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.

I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.

I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.

I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.

I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.

We are the couple who had the Realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.

I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.

I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.

I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.

I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.

I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.

I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I did not have to always deal with society hating me.

I am the person who is afraid of telling his loving Christian parents he loves another male.

I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.

I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love