This morning was...strange. I had this overwhelming urge to hide from people. I just didn't want to talk to anyone, and the strange thing? Nobody seemed to notice me at all.
*Poof* The Twitchy disappears.
Where'd it go? Nobody knows.
Well, partway through a friend gave me an old Clash cassette, and that cheered me up. Even though it's kind of his fault that I was freaked. I think he knows, 'cause he's been doing quite a bit to cheer me up. Damn little hobbit, messing with my head.

So today I have no idea what's going on. I am just recovering from a depressive phase and catapulting straight into a manic. At least it isn't as uncomfortable as it used to be. Damn, I said some stupid things.
Well, despite all that, there are some good things that are happening.
Miss Murder debuts in a week!! I'm just thrilled.
It still kills me that Decemberunderground comes out on 6-6-06, that's just great.
Watch, about 10,000 DF'ers heads will explode if we get any more good news.
Example:
"Hey, we're going to release a Blaqk Audio album next year!" DF: "Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" *BOOOOOOOOM* *splatter, splatter*
LIsten to the sound of our brains hitting the walls.

Time stands still. The witching hour has come again, and all is black and grey but my little room, which is awash in a blaze of ruddy light. I am perched on a chair, furiously slinging paint onto the wall. A patch of my cheek is stiff with a pearly white blotch. Streaks of red and black rush frantically up my arms, making them seem bruised and bloody but somehow still functioning. Its midnight but I’ll keep going. The hour is a heavy velvet weight; it engulfs me and holds me away from the rushing world. Here I am untouchable and unseen. Before I notice at all, it is past three. Even now I am still standing, swiftly leaving silky lines across my endless canvas. I whisper to my subject that he is lovely, and the quick rasp of my own voice sends a shiver through me. I am fighting the sparkles in the corners of my eyes. I don’t want to sleep. Sleep would make all of this a dream, a fleeting fantasy that I had touched something unknown. I ignore the voices that seem to call my name. They are the wakeful, wry, and watchful. I keep this fire burning, setting the darkest corners ablaze. I won’t stop, not now. As the morning pushes through my moonlight love, it finds me collapsed, but still lucid, on the floor. I look up into the chocolate eyes of my angel and smile. I haven’t wasted a moment.

Emos suck.
And I'm just writing this because there is an emo right behind me.

I'd say hi but I don't want to
Being genial just isn't my thing.
Besides, I have a week and a half's bad mood behind this, so you can forgive my lack of manners. It's too late to break the mean streak.
I'd think of something endearing to say but I don't think I have the time