Almost 27, and what is there to really define me?



My personality runs more shallow than most of my scars.



Always vying to make myself out to be the friendly-if-you-are shitposter, when I don't deserve that reputation at all.



A rotten, maligned thing, crushed into shape by the ulterior motives of others.



Rotting from the inside, and screaming bloody murder as it tries to tear itself free.



War is less violent than this, or perhaps this is war on a human scale.