A Little Taste

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It's funny how the name of this chapter mirrors the end of Roses On Your Skin from Dirty Little Gangster. I just posted chapter two today.

My name is Moth, and I'm eighteen years old. I live in the United States, er, what a wonderful place right? Right. It's only wonderful if you're in the right place at the right time to me. But that's depressing isn't it. Originally I was going to make an account called BloodofAlice, made for my more macabre pieces. But I'm finding that I don't have the energy for two accounts. So while MothCakes looks really cute on the outside, it's insides are rather dark and disturbed.

I find that rather comforting simply because I feel like I pretend a lot of the time in my life. This won't last forever. But a few months can be a lifetime when you aren't happy with a present situation. It's funny. How much I can relate to writing in its purest form. I feel closed in, stressed out, like a caged animal. It's uncomfortable. Oh well. I just so happened to be made to sustain myself no matter the circumstances. I will succeed in getting what I want eventually.

There are a lot of nice things that I use to pass the time though. Like my extensive collection of stuffed animals, manga, and clothes. The manga kick I just started. I get as many as I can from Walmart when they have new ones. I've got a lot of Jujutsu Kaisen to show for that. Saw the movie in theaters. That was an extremely good day for me. I love the characters, the storyline, the artwork. Oh yes.

I started this little journal today in the name of Dirty Little Gangster, which I should probably do another chapter for so I can focus on it more. I just have no one to talk about writing with. My boyfriend is a great guy, a lovely individual with a lot to offer. However, he doesn't quite do the writing bit very well so I try not to annoy him with it often. Sometimes I think, man, couldn't I just be a normal person instead of a writer? Talk about normal things other than a whole storyline and ten other novels I have lined up in the back?

Of course not. No sir. So, this has to be my outlet. I'm okay with that, though it is different when you have someone speaking back at you when you have a really good idea. It gets tiring to talk to ones self all the time. I'm sure a lot of people, especially artists, can relate to that. So here I am. MothCakes. The one and only. The always and forever. Welcome to my thoughts.

"As they come in the wild, some creatures feel terribly irregular under a black sun as it is so for humans in the apocalypse."

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