Not a whole lot to tell, really.
Just a normal adolescent with a complete lack of social life, off-beat interests, and a bad case of the munchies.
Currently delving deep into the pit of existentialism, struggling through Nabokov's Lolita, and breeding garden snails in captivity. 
My goal is to pass a mutation from one of my juveniles on to subsequent generations. But my attention is flagging.
Currently a part time college student chasing my GED. Thing just wont sit still. I'm kidding. Its me that wont sit for it.
Like getting a shot at the doctor.
Also trying my hand at some sculpting, hoping to get an etsy off the ground.
Unfortunately, I don't really believe in publishing my stories. I write for me, you know? And the style I do it in, as displayed by the above 'paragraphs' (6th grade English teacher would shoot me in the goddamn face for calling those paragraphs. Sentences, even.) can be hard for first time experiencers of my style to enjoy. So don't expect anything up from me any time soon, yeah?
And if you do, ignore it. I'm likely to be possessed, and no one likes dealing with demons anyhow.
Or me for that matter.
But as Dostoevsky said. "We thank some people just for living alongside us."
So....
thanks?
that's an awfully awkward way to end this. Of course, the whole thing's been downright painful.
Forgive me.