Voldemort: A life...I suppose one could call it that....

Well, I was raised in an orphanage. A typical one full of unkind children and even worse caretakers. That doesn't mean I deserve any sympathy however. I hope I need not remind you that I have no redeeming qualities whatsoever.

My wonderful mother was related to Salazar Slytherin. The only thing i thank her for that and her death. My wonderful father (hopefully the sarcasm has become evident) was a pathetic whiny muggle named Tom Riddle. Disgusting man who abandoned me. They don't matter though. They're dead, and I'm the special one, damnit!!!

Okay. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Let's press forward. I was named after my pathetic father of course. And grandfather. Let's not forget that old bugger. Marvolo. How wonderful for me. No one would tease someone with a name like that.

I received a summons to Hogwarts, obviously. And despite the incompetency of those involved in my education, I knew I would be the greatest sorcerer in the world. Besides, when you can rearrange your name to form: "I am Lord Voldemort," you know you're going places.

I had my revenge on my pathetic father and his parents. I killed them while they ate dinner and laughed and prattled on about the weather. Miserable sods. But ha, I became Prefect, Head Boy, and received a Medal for Magical Merit anyway. While their miserable corpses were still rotting in the dirt.

I disappeared, as villains are ought to do, and came back EVIL. An EVIL prince of darkness!!!!! You may speculate as to how, I will keep it a secret. You'll never know. Mwahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!

And then, I found my family, my minions, my Deatheaters. The fools. Rejoicing and singing my praise only to abandon me. Again. Even after I taught them everything I knew and gave them each nifty tattoos.

So then me and my rag-tag crew killed and killed and killed some more. Because we were so evil. And no one could stop us. They all died hideously. It was fun. Too bad you missed it.

I was a Dark Lord, baby. I was powerful....though man was I old. Anyway, I was happy. Then I go to kill those blasted Potters and what happens? Their miserable little brat of a child messes everything up. I ask you, is that fair? Is that right? For some child to just go goo-goo gaa-gaa and render you to dust?

My body destroyed and my powers gone, I did what I could do. I hid near Hogwarts and feasted on unicorns for 10 years.

So then, this little git named Quirrell comes wandering by and quicker then you can say, "Renfield," I made him my minion and hid in his body. Boy, did that suck. Not one of my brighter plans I will admit, but I think the unicorn blood had gone to my head.

So then, I get defeated by him over and over again through countless stupid plans on my part. I tell you, some days, I just don't know how I get myself out of the crypt...err..bed. It doesn't seem worth it. That little punk Potter will just mess it all up.

I lost even at the Triwizards Cup. what's wrong with me? I seem to have lost my edge. Did I ever have an edge? What the hell is an edge?

Let's face it, I'm a freak. A worthless freak....No, Tom pull yourself together.

Sigh. Anyway, my life or whatever the hell it is now sucks. I'm loosing to prepubescent numbskull and his little friends. It's like not being able to defeat an army of stuffed animals.

So yeah..that's me. I am evil. Beyond evil. Evil beyond what you've ever dreamed, but.....not if you're Harry Potter. Then I'm just some reject from a bad B-movie.