What Matrix persona are you?
You are Persephone, from "The Matrix."
Tough cookie, you are, yet there are strains of
sadness and desire that lie beneath you- of
course, you wouldn't want anyone to know.
You're too busy putting up a facade.
What Matrix Persona Are You?
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... what. why not the merovigian, or agent smith? why am i mostly the girl in such quizzes?
enervate, exit highland.
Which infamous criminal are you?
You are Vlad the Impaler. The man behind the legend
of Dracula. You hanged your victims, stretched
them on the rack, burned them at the stake,
boiled them alive, but mostly impaled them.
Most of your killings were politically targeted
but sometimes you killed just because you were
bored. Your "reign of terror" lasted
from 1456 to 1462. Estimated numbers of victims
vary between 30,000 and more than 100,000.
Evil Evil man. Fie on you!
Which Imfamous criminal are you?
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if only...
enervate, exit highland.
Which chinese symbol are you?
SPIRIT is your chinese symbol!
What Chinese Symbol Are You?
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thank you, but 'jonah' will suffice.
enervate, exit highland.
which amazing piece of literature are you?
you are "the perks of being a wallflower"
by stephen chbosky.
which amazing piece of literature are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
haha... how apt!
enervate, exit highland.
Blogs are letters to your own self. Every revisit is an awakening of sleeping ghosts that either haunt, or are simply unrecognised and forgotten because they are just past reminders of the life that you have had. Every new entry is a declaration of a new beginning, a chromatic explosion of nievous light that is of both an epiphany and a rebirth. Every entry is a conversation in solitare, ruminations upon ramifications of your tarnished blade stained with blood and tears, because you don't know peace until you had suffering. Every dream you record down, so fleeting and ephemeral, is a memory not well guarded against disbelief. Once you realise that, you would just thirst for the pain these memories bring. This thirst would circumvallate you and encapsulate you from the gusts of the outside world. Existence is such a stasis is much more tantalising than in the hollowed reality.
You've bled your tears, you've broke your gears. You've ran from your fears, you've grown your years. And you feel more alive than you have ever had since the beginning. Don't stop writing. If you do, you would be peeling protective layers of skin of your humanity from yourself, exposing the exhumed core of a once and only king. All that would be left is a heart of tenebrosity; the necrosis of all your emotions and intuition. You then, would not be of any distinction than of the xeroxed intelligentsia that hold their extinguished lanterns above you, connecting in a medley of amaurosis that leads in circles. An insect among man-made gods.
enervate, exit highland.