||[Apr. 10th, 2007|11:37 pm]
The Scribe's Mind - An Exercise in Self Indulgence
I'm alive now, awesome.|
*insert cliche blather about revenge and picking up where he left off, etc. etc.*
I also want a race car.
I feel sorry for both of them. *leans a litttttle*
I don't need anyone's pity.
Least of all YOURS.
Don't. Call. Me. That.
Hm, how about... No?
Not going to get myself killed by the likes of you.
Ha. That's hilarious.
You can't stand up to anybody. Shademan proved that. You're more pathetic than that willowy, dependant future version of yourself.
You're worse than Vinny.
*clenches a hand into a fist*
M'not and I can, and will, prove it.
And unlike Vincent I don't piss myself in fear.
Vincent has the ability to admit he's worthless.
You cling to the idea that you mean something somehow.
You know, I represent something Videoman is, deep down, behind all that he claims to learn and any inhibitions.
You're just a possession to both of us.
HE DOESN'T THINK LIKE YOU!
What do you think shaped me?
What do you think gave me the ability to rationalize?
The Dark Aura ceases to be a blob of evil when it becomes part of someone. I'm everything he locks up.
Gerechter Tropfen tot, Esel!
You better be glad my mun restrains me, girl.
*skitters off though*