For a long time I have suffered from the dangerous disease known as obsession. I fall asleep at night, and instead of dreaming about boys, or college, or any number of "normal things," I find myself putting my favorite characters, whether they be from movies, television shows, or books, into a series of frightening fantasies that generally involve torture, pain,proportionally impossible amounts of blood, and situations that require a certain amount of kick-butt heroism, despite, and often encouraged by, the torture, pain, and proportionally impossible amounts of blood. Fortunately, they are all men, and they all somehow, in my dreams, look impossibly hot, whether dying, or suffering from low blood sugar.

Unfortunately, they never hook up with me. As much as I would love to sponge their feverish brows and cool their parched throats, my fantasies dissolve as soon as I step into them.

Which means, of course, that I have been forced out of my closet and into the wild world of fanfiction.

God help us all.

Actually, I can. I have no idea from what vestiges of my mind that came from. But, since I'm lazy, I'm going list style.

Sex: Wench

Occupation: Ticking people off in general (not my fault!) and driving my sister up the wall (a true profession, if there ever was one). Oh, that, and I'm a senior, if that explains any of my mental problems.

Height: 5'4"

Weight: Too heavy to sit on my cat but not heavy enough to put a dent in the linoleum.

Age: 18 (yeah, baby!)

Interesting shtuff: Nothing really. I don't have my license yet, but that doesn't seem to be much of a novelty anymore.

Obsessions: really, you think I'm going to tell you? I just recently came out of the closet. I'm still a bit gun-shy.

Wow. I'm a lot more annoying on paper than in real life. A bit hyper, I would wager (shut it MusicalLuna-I don't need any of your comments). Well, cheers and good luck reading my stuff, if I ever get around to writing any of my frightening nightmares down. Smooches and raspberries all around!