Under the red break of the lights,
Heroes in stretches inch to the site,
Blowing the pieces, belong to the wind.
When the whole thing blows away,
I won't pretend.

-Soundgarden

Hello, my name is Mikey, but you’re more than welcome to call me by my real name Dee. I now live in London after having moved here with my mother and siblings a few weeks ago while my dad’s off fighting some hopeless battle. God knows where.

I, having no friends who are not firmly planted on American soil and speaking through the receiver of pretty pink AT&T telephones or no life in England as of yet, enjoy writing, reading, and blasting the music on the metro simply to frighten the natives. It works like a charm, I must say.

Since graduating early, I have not yet found a job (and it’s not as if I haven’t been trying—I think the overly-assiduous attitude puts them off because desire for escapism from the family is so damned strong) and spend hours typing up whatever consequently comes to mind.

I know I must sound quite lame, but over the past month, I have come to accept the fact that over the pond, I am, in fact, extremely lame. But looking on the bright side, I suppose the time on my hands does not go to waste and instead produces long-winded stories based off the Vietnam War, allusions to slash, allusions to sappy heterosexual romances, American presidents, and white roses in the hands of American League baseball players.

I hope that many can look upon my works below and enjoy what I have written, but I am completely open-minded to any comment left, flames or not. Though I cannot say I particularly appreciate flames, it can sometimes lead to the development of my writing skill.

Stay cool.