The way I look, the way I talk, the way I act. These are what makes me, me. I am upfront, honest and outspoken, but at least I am me. I have always believed in who I am no matter what others say about me. Their opinion of me never really mattered to me at all. I believe if people do not bother to get to know the real you, then they are really not worth knowing in the first place. Nearly everyone that I have come across on the internet has been dissimulated.
I am all about the pure distinction, "pure" in the sense of being uncontaminated by the faddish perspective of the majority. In that sense. I am reminded of the passions and the interests of the commoner. People who just rate profiles reminds me that it is often said that nobody reads them, but in my experience a lot of people actually do. One way I can tell is that people who do read profiles also read journals and that leads to them leaving comments. Sometimes they pick up on items mentioned that catch their eye, another way is that people pick up on personal information in the acknowledgment of wanting to know more about the profile they are reading.
It is funny how often people incorporate malapropisms in their creations. I think that the malapropisms come from the reader not the creator, but I believe the principles are the same. I firmly hold that reality exists independent of consciousness, that human beings have direct contact with reality through sense perception, that one can attain objective knowledge from perception through the process of concept formation and inductive and deductive logic, that the proper moral purpose of one's life is the pursuit of one's own happiness or rational self-interest, that the only social system consistent with this morality is full respect for individual rights and that the role of art in human life is to transform man's widest metaphysical ideas, by selective reproduction of reality, into a physical form—a work of art, that he can comprehend and to which he can respond emotionally.
If I choose to live, a rational ethics will tell me what principles of action are required to implement my choice. If I do not choose to live, nature will take its course. Reality confronts me with a great many 'must's', but all of them are conditional: the formula of realistic necessity is: 'I must, if -' and the if stands for my choice: 'if I want to achieve a certain goal, I will'. I could go on to write a dissertation of my thoughts about the anthropological views and experiences that I have discovered for myself while being here, but that would be a waste of space and of my time, so I won't.
The story of the Vampyre is founded on an opinion or report which prevailed in Hungary, and several parts of Germany, towards the beginning of the last century: It was then asserted, that, in several places, dead persons had been known to leave their graves, and, by night, to revisit the habitations of their friends; whom, by suckosity, they drained of their blood as they slept. The person thus phlebotomised was sure to become a Vampyre in their turn; and if it had not been for a lucky thought of the clergy, who ingeniously recommended staking them in their graves, we should by this time have had a greater swarm of blood-suckers than we have at present, numerous as they are. Many and ingenious were the animadversions, both of the faculty and the clergy, to adopt some probable reasons for the physical cause of such an uncommon phenomenon.
It was asserted that a portion of the animal spirits, not having escaped at the decease of the body, had retained a power of volition; and, investing themselves with some part of the body which had not immediately yielded to putrefaction, they were thus enabled to make those prodigious excursions from the grave, and to return at pleasure, without any apparent inconvenience. Others were of opinion that these were a class of demons, who are supposed to be very numerous, who getting possession of any human excresences, rendered themselves partially corporeal, and perfectly visible at pleasure.
From some of our modern voyagers it appears, that the notion of the existence of Vampyres was very generally known and credited among the Dutch, and some other settlements in America. I do not imagine that a thousandth part of the world are acquainted with the reason why the secundine, immediately after the nativity of the foetus, is so carefully deflagrated by the obstetric and others, who preside at the accouchement. This was founded on the opinion that those numerous domestic demons, of whom they had such perfect belief, were tenacious of any opportunity that furnished them with a means of obtaining any portion of humanity, which they certainly preferred to any other animal substances. We may suppose that the umbilicus would make a very desirable jerkin for one of these gentry.
Hence it has been, that since they had such a desire to render themselves in part corporeal and visible, as it pleased them, that when human excrescences were not easily obtainable, they were forced to repair to the common slaughter-houses, carrion heaps, etc. there to array themselves in such habiliments as chance threw in their way. From which we may infer the reason so many of our common apparitions have, per force, been compelled to appear in the forms of horses, cows, sheep, asses, dogs, cats, etc. in fine, every sort of animal; so that many of these might, in fact, be said to be the ghosts of the animals they represent, rather than of any particular person.
Through the centuries, I sought for you. Painstaking, persistent, ruthlessly thorough. 'Til the hollow years melded into a century of desolate dreams and empty nights. 'Til hope itself was frayed and wishes grew futile as prayers to unheeding gods. 'Til I rose at the beginning of yet another millenium, dreading the truth of my mortality.
I can feel the smoothness of your skin. My lips brush against your hair. And follow the curve of your neck. The same thing always brings me back here. I am addicted. I can feel your heart beating so hard. Your pulse I can feel at my lips. I let my teeth tear at you. You sink into me. I am addicted. It is like floating, the feeling created. You become part of me once again. The moistness of your skin, the blood and just you. I am addicted. My lips go to meet yours and you take yourself in. The bitter-sweet taste and I am yours again. Forever addicted.
Eternally is being without beginning or end. It is the existance outside of time, continuing without interruption, it is perpetual. It is about being forever true and it is about being tranformative while changless. It is seemingly endless as eternity, more than forever and less than interminable. This is how I feel, this is who I am and this is what I freely offer to you with love baby, my husband.
