“A cripple walks amongst you, all you tired human beings
He’s got all the things a cripple has not: two working arms and legs
And vital parts fall from his system and dissolve in Scottish rain
But vitally he doesn’t miss them; he’s too fucked up to care”
– Frightened Rabbit, The Modern Leper
I’m a modern leper with a habit of cutting things out of my life, a gambler playing Russian Roulette with my mind, spirit and body just to see which breaks first. I’m a cynical romantic who knows he’s going to die alone but just wishes someone would tell that to his brain so he’d stop falling in love, a foot shooter who thinks the best way to stop the pain is by emptying the clip. I’m an introvert to the tenth degree, a loner who can’t even say that he enjoys his own company, a wallflower with no perks. I’m a self-loathing asshole with an addictive personality and self-destructive tendencies. The only thing I hate more than other people is myself, and somehow I manage to perfect the balance between thinking I’m better than everyone else while simultaneously believing I’m the worst shit in existence. Most of all I’m a melodramatic over-thinker trying to find the line between adolescent angst and depression.
I’m also an adventurer, filled with wanderlust and imagination. I find comfort in music, paintings, and photography, and sanctuary in a good story, regardless of the medium. I’m an egalitarian and a feminist, a socialist with big plans and high hopes. I’m a romantic cynic who can’t help but see the beauty in the broken and the depressing, a masochist who manages to find comfort in the familiar embrace of sorrow. I’m a dreamer 24/7, a nyctophile who loves the night almost as much as he loves sleep itself. I’ve got a dark sense of humour and enough personal experience to provide me with material for decades to come.
I’m a 21 year-old guy living in good ol’ Canada. I’m an aspiring writer, with several works in the making and one published short story to date (it was a long time ago and other than the fact that I use it to justify calling myself a “published author”, looking back at it now I have to say it wasn’t particularly good).
Aside from the obvious reading and writing, my interests include exploring the outdoors, cycling (unprofessionally, of course; just as a general rule you can assume everything I do is done unprofessionally), watching television, listening to music, and wallowing in my own self-pity and loneliness.