Today was a horrible day. I tried to kill myself 12 times today. After my mother finished crushing my hopes and dreams with her middle class, soccer mom fascism, I decided to invite the angel of death into my unrepentant soul. I almost saw the fiery flames of the afterlife, when the dental floss noose broke. Damn the dark lord JJ (that’s goth for Johnson & Johnson). I feel like I’m already in hell. The fallen angels have accepted me as one of their own, and I must live the rest of this life half-dead. That’s why I dye my hair, and make sure my skin is pasty white even in the middle of the summer. I want Baal to recognize when I get there.

Today I met the man of my dreams. He’s part of Nosferatu and he’s is so fucking hot. I’ve never seen anyone more goth than him. His name is Oleander Panic, and he works at the Starbucks Coffee shop by my school. He always wears leather. His hair is blood red, and he has a bite mark on the right side of his neck. I hope that someday I can bite him there. One day I’ll get the courage to talk to him other than ordering a black coffee and a double chocolate cookie. I know he wants me, I can tell by the way he says, “that will be 7 dollars please”… One day I tell you. I’d sell my soul for him.