WELCOME TO THE CRYPT OF DARKNESS., submitted by Fenris. Oooooh, spooky! A chubby Australian goth talks about herself in third person and says really deep and meaningful goth shit like "Death is nothing to me. Death is nothing at all; I have only slipped away into the next room. I am I and you are you; whatever we were to each other, that we are still." Wow, that's heavy, man! And speaking of heavy, the plump goth MilAmber wants the entire world to know about her fantastic gothiness, a quality which really translates into one kickass webpage.
RELIGION; On August 9th, 1998, I self-initiated myself into Witchcraft. I worship the Divine Goddess and her Horned Consort, with special worship to Isis and Sekhmet.
Let my name be the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without effort, without the ghost of a shadow on it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was; there is absolutely unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be put out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner...
Shit, she's just around the corner? That means she's in my bathroom! Goddammit, and I just had the guy come by and spray for goths the other day. Oh well, enjoy the Doom 2 backgrounds and MilAmber's tips on how to apply Goth makeup. I don't think I'm making a sweeping generalization here when I claim that all Goths are retarded morons who should be chucked into an empty grave.
PS: MilAmber asks that you sign away your heart (enter a message) in her Book of Souls (moronic guestbook). Oh the drama! Frail human shell, replicate your house of lies and heresy to my immortal Internet guestbook of the damned or else MilAmber shall continue to talk about herself in third person and write spooky comments that don't make any sense! How morose and romantic!
Sometimes I dream that I'm sitting in the back of the defunct Weinermobile as it careens driverless down the highway. At first I thought this was symbolic of the powerlessness I feel in life, but then I realized it's actually the Weinermobile's dream of being able to drive again.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
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