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Thursday, 17 November 2011

Here I am, the real Jon.

Dear friends, and whomever else wishes to read this long piece of expressive writing.
This is a letter to you all to expose myself to you. I will put out all my flaws and things that I hide, and show you the real Jon.
If you are to be my friend, and to be close to me, then you should know me for who I am - both the good and the bad.
I am sick of deceptiveness, I am sick of pretending and I am sick of hiding.
So today I am giving you a detailed insight into what goes through my mind, so hopefully you can gain some understanding.

I am not a passive person. If something bothers me, I am likely to say it. To me, this is the most logical thing to do - if you do not say it, they do not know it bothers you, therefore they will keep doing it, which will only cause future conflict. Better to get things out in the open and stop them in their tracks.

I like to always apply logic to emotion before I act. I like to be logical, not emotional, though sometimes I slip.
There are many things that I like about myself, such as my loyalty, my logic and my diplomatic approach to conflict.
Though the things I hate about myself far outweigh the things I like.
I hate how I can hold a grudge. I try not to, but I do. If someone has upset me, I will hold that against them unless I feel it has been properly addressed and resolved. If someone doesn't apologise for something I believe is wrong, I will not brush it off.
I hate how self-conscious I am. I hate that I hate my body, my appearance, my stubbornness, my constant loneliness, my erratic behaviour, my fears, and I hate that I hate them.

I hate my body and appearance, yet I hate feeling this way. I hate feeling that appearances are important, because I do not believe they are. When I see other people, I often do not see flaws until they are pointed out. When I meet someone, I automatically like them and this opinion does not change unless they do something to upset me. I hate that I feel so differently when it comes to myself.

I hate how I am nice to others, but not to myself. I hate that I have to hide all the time. I hate that I have to lie all the time about how I feel. I hate that I am not comfortable enough with myself to make myself happy. I must rely upon others.
When people ask how I am, I hate how often I have to lie. I hate how I have mastered hiding my feelings.
I hate that I seem so depressive, when really I am not. I hate how fickle I am.
I hate how fucked I am. I hate that I blame a lot of my flaws on my childhood abuse.

*If you do not wish to know the full details of my abuse, then continue to the next chapter*

For 2-3 years as a child, when I was around the age of 5 and 6, I was both physically and sexually abused, by both my grandfather and by a family friend. I received sexual abuse and threats from my grandfather, and both sexual and physical abuse from a family friend - one of my best friend's father.
My grandfather touched me, and made me expose myself to him many times. I am uncertain of this, but I think he also took pictures.
He also made me touch him. I was a child and I was not certain what was happening, though I knew I didn't like it and that it frightened me. He would make various and frequent threats to keep me quiet, but I had no intention of telling others anyway. I was too scared to say anything, or to stand up for myself.
My best friend's father would sneak into the room late at night when I slept over his house. He would remove the blankets and touch me in the dark. I was too scared to do anything, so most of the time I merely pretended to be asleep until he finished and left.
He would often make my friend and I sleep in separate rooms so that he may do this to me without being disturbed. More than once, he tried to have sex with me. I would cry from the pain and he would stop after a short while. Again, I was too scared to say anything.
Other times, the man would force my best friend and I to fight. We started off play-fighting, but he always forced us to go further. He would force us to hit each other and cause each other pain for his amusement. If I was ever winning, he would hold my hands behind my back and yell at his son to hit me so that he had the upper hand. My friend would cry and protest, but his father was a frightening man and eventually he would reluctantly hit me while I was restrained. I often had bruises in hidden places, or otherwise people would assume I got the bruises and cuts from being a playful child, full of mischief. Which, I was. A lot of memories I blocked out and repressed over the years, never to think of them again until recently. A lot haunted me for a while. As a result of years of abuse, I did not just repress the bad memories. I remember almost nothing of my childhood, especially around those few years.
I am sorry if some of you find this too graphic or disturbing. Yes, I agree with you. It has plagued me to my very core and caused many issues.

I feel disgusted with myself for what has happened. I feel disgusted with myself for how they took control of me and I did not resist at all, nor did I try to help myself, when I knew it was wrong. In my mind, I often refer to my grandfather and my best friend's father - the people who violated me - as The Kings. They had total power and I submitted and did not question that their authority could be resisted. Though the Kings were crownless, they still had the power to make me fear them. I always feel lesser than everyone else, as if I am ruined goods. I am broken from what The Kings have done to me. I feel subhuman and not worthy of the praise I get from others, so I cannot help but shy away from it. I do not deserve their words of kindness, as they are misplaced. They should be said to someone who deserves it more than I.

So sure, some of it is justified. I hate my body and I am very self-conscious, as I was violated for years as a child.
But I do not believe I am justified in saying "it's because of what those people did to me" all the time.
I am responsible for my own being. I have brought a good number of my problems on myself. 
I can see my flaws, yet I do not act towards improvement as much as I should.
I am blunt and distant with my family. A lot of the time, I value my friends above my family. 
Although I appreciate everything my family does for me, I am too awkward with them to express this all the time.
They believe I am unappreciative and selfish. Although I do not believe this is true, I do not try to prove otherwise.
I hate that I am so willing to accept that my family looks down on me for things that are not as true as they believe.

Yet I go out of my way to please my friends constantly. I warp myself, often to the point where I lose myself, which frustrates me.
There is a happy point, where I am more comfortable with myself and I am happy most of the time. This is the point I strive to maintain, though I so frequently get sidetracked and manipulate my personality to please another person, and I am lost again.

I hate how quickly I can go from sad to happy, from lazy to energetic, from worrying to not caring about anything. My mother is a mental health nurse and she has suggested that I may have bipolar disorder a couple of times, once very recently. I denied it to her, claiming I am fine, though it scares me how unsure of that fact I really am. My life often feels like a mess of unpredictable emotion.
When I am alone, I want company. When I have company, I want to be alone. There is no middle point. 
Sometimes, and for no reason at all, I will crave the company of some, and not others. I will not have no motivation to talk to certain friends, for no apparent reason at all. They have done nothing wrong. I simply do not wish to talk to them or hang out with them for a little while. I hate that I feel like this, too. It causes a lot of conflict. If I ignore it and spend too much effort with them, I will want to withdraw further and I will start to feel bitter towards them.

I withdraw from people at infrequent periods, where I will detach myself and not hold conversations, and isolate myself - either from everyone, or just certain people. Again, for no apparent reason at all. This is a major problem for me. It puts a strain in both relationships and friendships of mine. A friend of mine is similar and has put it into a perfect analogy. I am like a rubber band. Sometimes I will withdraw, making the band tight. If you try pull me back while I am withdrawing, the band will be too tight, and the bond will snap. I will not wish to associate myself with you, and I will feel bitter towards you, which will cause conflict, as I am not passive.
The best thing to do is simply accept that I am withdrawing, try not to take offence by it - as I never do it in spite or to upset people - and wait for me to return back to you, however long it takes. Days, weeks, or even months. It has happened. It has destroyed friendships, and caused a lot of conflict in my life. I wish that I did not withdraw, but I do. I have been forced to accept this about myself, and for someone to be truly close to me, they must accept this too, or they will not be able to maintain the bond for much longer.

My feelings for people are like a lightbulb. They can be flicked on in an instant, but also can switch off in an instant. As I said earlier, I automatically like people when I first meet them. I can grow to like them and have immense respect for them in a very short period of time. However, I can also be robotic in the sense that I can cut off my feelings for someone very quickly. It is a defence mechanism of mine. It helps me deal with loss. If I believe someone is more trouble than they are worth, then I can easily cut them out of my life and not think twice about them again. I will barely miss them. I will be robotic for a while, as it tends to cut off all other emotion, too, but I will still be free of pain or grief. Sometimes this makes me come off as heartless. Even my own mother has asked me how I can so easily just cut friends out and not care. She seemed to think I do not treasure my friends, and that they mean little to me. This is the polar opposite of the truth. My friends mean everything to me. I would do anything for them. It is merely a defence mechanism to shield myself from pain. Either that, or I have yet again mastered my composure into hiding what I am really feeling.

I am paranoid to the point that even I think it is ridiculous. I can say or do something, and will freak about it for hours internally, worrying how people will react or if I have hurt a friend. In my head, I go through every possibility, and as I do, I start to believe them. I will then feel guilty for how they feel, and it will just spiral out of control until I am under the impression that they now hate me, along with all my other friends. It happens more than I like to admit. I am constantly paranoid that people only pretend to like me. In primary school, people talked about me a lot. Since then, I have always feared that people talk ill of me behind my back, and I trust hardly anyone. I have seen how two-faced people can be, even people I hold closest, and I do not forget this. I fear it. Hence, I manipulate myself constantly so hopefully they will like me enough to not talk badly about me.

Being gay is a big issue for me. Sometimes, I do not mind being gay. Other times, I hate it to the point where I disgust myself.
I wish to be normal. I am sick of being challenged by society. I am sick of standing out. I'm sick of people thinking it is a choice, as if I would willingly CHOOSE a life of discrimination and uncomfortable conversations. I want to be married one day, as I fear loneliness and crave love above anything else, but I do not want to be married with people sneering or looking down upon me, including my own mother. 
I want to meet expectations, though I know I never will. I also bear the guilt of severing the Ketch family line. I can feel the disappointment from my parents, and I was even told by my mother that being gay made me a disappointment to her. I do not blame her, as in many ways, I am disappointed in myself. I don't want the Ketch line to cease to exist. I don't want that upon my shoulders.

I like how much I have grown over the past couple of years, yet I do not like how weak I was in the past. I ashamed of myself for it. I am ashamed of the worry I put my friends and family through. Scarred wrists and two failed suicide attempts. I tried to drown myself in the bathtub, twice. That is not something I should have put upon my friends. The thought sickens me. What I have done sickens me. Although I am a lot stronger and I am a better person, I am still ashamed by who I am. Violated, weak, and broken. I have so much room for improvement, yet I do nothing. I leave it all to my friends. I let them cheer me up, give me hope and help me grow strong. I do not take the initiative to make myself strong. Without my friends, I am weak and vulnerable. I have so much respect, love and appreciation for them, but I do not tell them enough. I am scared of how they will react, if they learnt how much I depend upon them. Well, now you all know.

Even though I hold my friends so close and dear to me, I am still surprised when I find any feelings reciprocated. I expect to be shunned, to be cast aside, to be rejected, as I have been in the past. When friends invite me out, I often thank them for the invite and do not just casually accept that I am part of the group. I always feel privileged, as if they are being generous as to allow me to join them. 

I have many flaws, I know. I have good features too, but if you are my friend, you probably know them. The point of this gigantic letter is so that whoever you are - best friend, friend or acquaintance - you may know me for the real me. This is a big deal to me. I am laying myself out for you - sharing the dark parts of my past so that maybe you will understand. I lay myself out before you, vulnerable and exposed. Accept what you will. At least you now know the real Jon, and what lies beneath the exterior.

Monday, 10 October 2011

Toilet Doors

Whether you realise it or not, toilet doors are a terrifying thing. Honestly, whenever I see them, fear is struck into the very core of my existence. They are horrific and malevolent beings that must be avoided at all costs.

I hate toilet doors. 

Well, that is a generalisation. I don't hate ALL toilet doors. I hate toilet doors belonging to other people.

Don't you just hate the sinking, gut-wrenching feeling you get when you enter a toilet, and there is...


There is no way to cover your shame, no sense of privacy, no escape. You may as well walk through the house naked. Honestly, how hard is it to buy a door handle with a lock? You could save people like me so much drama and crippling fear.
What if someone walks in while I'm doing my pees and poops?
That would create whole worlds of unnecessary weirdness. I would forever feel awkward, and never return to their house again. I think everyone should take a gander at the safe haven of my own toilet. It is full of locks, combinations and key-codes. Alarm system and everything. Not even a tank could get through that toilet door.

Now I have a very small and weak bladder, and I pee as often as a mouse. Sorry for the graphics, but there. I said it, and it's out there. But if I am at your house, and you have no lock on your toilet door, so help me God I will refuse to go. I will hold it in till my bladder ruptures. It is a plausible cause of death for me, because I relentlessly avoid the catastrophe of toilets with no locks. I simply will no do it. I will go home instead.
No matter who you are, your presence and company is not valuable enough for me to put myself through that kind of psychological trauma.

Also, don't even get me started on school toilets! Well, not that I've said that, I simply have to rant. Those are the rules of personal blogs.
SO, the toilets in my school are utterly and indescribably horrific. Stupid A-hole youths think it is absolutely hilarious of glorifying to break the locks off the cubicle doors. I'm sure one day karma will come back their way and strike them down dead for their terrible misdeeds, but that is getting off topic. Since there are no locks on the cubicles, I will not go in them. I have skipped lessons many times so that I can merely go home and use the toilet. For poops, of course. Peeing in school is fine, as long as I can stick to my Lavatory Checklist.

[ ]  There must never be more than two other people in the toilet.
[ ]  There must always be a cubicle free (after many bad experiences, I am now urinal-shy).
[ ]  There must never be any form of verbal or non-verbal communication in the bathroom. This includes eye contact.
[ ]  And finally, there must be a tolerable amount of cleanliness in the toilet or I will simply walk away and hold it till I can either find a suitable toilet, or my bladder kills itself.

So there you have it. There is my rant on toilet doors.
For those sick people out there who have no locks on their toilet doors, just know that you are the reason our society is so far from an idealised notion of utopia. I hope you're happy.
You're ruining Earth. Thanks a lot.

Ciao. x

Friday, 7 October 2011

The Stick Farm

I am writing this entire thing on my iPhone so it will probably be a lot shorter than normal. I am actually going insane without a laptop.

Ok, so this blog is dedicated to a friend of mine. Let's call her Wendy. So, Wendy is a friend of ours in the year below us. We playfully joke about how she is stupid, when in fact she is not. She is just utterly and unbelievably gullible. Almost to the point where she borders stupidity. It is a fine and faded line, if you ask me.

I met Wandy whilst touring Tasmania with the rest of the upper school music students. That was how the whole story begins!
Before I begin, just know that Wendy is great, really nice and all of our actions were not out of cruelty, but playful jesting. Promise.

So, the first humerous event was in the early days of the Taswegian tour. My friends made tacos for dinner, but it soon turned into a taco fight. Wendy arrived later on, just in time for the last taco. Which happened to be made of meat mixed with orange juice and taco ingredients that had previously been tossed around the small apartment thing we were staying in. The ingredients were piled together and drowned in a glass of orange juice. This was then poured into a taco shell, et voilà! A perfectly safe taco!
After Laura arrived, she happily ate the entire thing, despite everyone laughing for "no apparent reason". She then continued to compliment them on their hard labour in the kitchen and claimed it to be the best taco she'd ever eaten. My guess is that she's never had tacos before.

There were many other tricks that we played on dear old Wendy, including making her believe I am good friends with Michael Jackson's nephew, but one particular lie we told her sticks out above the rest.

This is the story of my uncle's stick farm.
To this day, Wendy still believes this story is true. Bless her.

We led sweet little Wendy to believe that my uncle owns a stick farm, which is a farm that grows a variety of trees to harvest the sticks. My uncle employed me at his stick farm, and pays me $20 an hour to walk around, picking up sticks. We then go through all the sticks and find some sticks worth selling at the market.
What sticks are worth selling, you might ask?
Sticks that resemble celebrities, of course!
We had them all! Beyoncé sticks, Chris Brown sticks, Justin Bieber sticks, you name it! Not just pop stars, either. We had many categories, including actors, politicians and even hostorical sticks, such as sticks that looked like the Statue of Liberty.

My uncle's stick farm is actually a very large business. It takes a lot of work and experienced staff to manage such a complicated industry. We need highly trained stick collectors, such as myself, stick managers, people to plant and maintain the trees, tour guides, people to advertise and sell the sticks, gift shop runners, Thai children to make stick farm t-shirts, and all sorts. It's been a family business for generations, but we're starting to expand our trade overseas to buyers such as Iceland, Spain, China and Indonesia. Celebrity sticks are of very high demand at the moment. Not just in Australia. But it's not just celebrity sticks. We have a wide range of sticky goodness! Not many people know this, but my uncle's company actually supplied the stick that was used for Dumbledore's wand in the Harry Potter novies. Warner Bros paid us a really big sum for the stick. It was our lucky break.
Since it's such a booming business and my uncle has no children, the company will one day be left in my name. I will inherit millions.

Wendy believed every word of it.

Tuesday, 27 September 2011

End of an Era

Time to get sentimental and unleash the deep thoughts!

With a mere three days left, school is now coming to a close. I can't help but feel torn about this. On the one hand, I am ecstatic, excited and overwhelmed with relief. On the other, I am worried and unsure of the future. I am quite certain of my path, but it is still a bit scary to think that this era is coming to an end, bringing on all kinds of strange possibilities. Maybe I should just become a hooker and not have to ponder these silly hand-related analogies.

Exams are approaching. I have less than two weeks to study a whole year's worth of information.
As you can probably guess, it is stressful. Saying that, I am surprised by how well I am coping so far. Normally when I am stressed I get sick. My body tends to be dramatic like that. In the Semester 1 exams, I appeared to be dying of insomnia, headaches, dizzy spells, nausea, cramped muscles, sore back and neck and all kinds of ailments that only a true hypochondriac, like myself, could possibly conjure from something as minimal as stress. One of my many talents. This year, however, I am dealing with the stress in a less theatrical way. There are many small things that I am now doing to help with stress, but a surprisingly beneficial technique is gum.
Yes, you read that right.
Small, minty pillows of delight that can bottle worries, brew glory and even put a stopper in stress.
I have no idea why, but I am now addicted. Oh well, I'm not complaining. They help me relax, study harder (when I actually have the motivation to do so), and not to mention the intoxicating scent they leave, wafting from my breath like a breeze of fresh air.

I should advertise minty gum...

Many new and glorious people are now being introduced to the magical life of Jon. I have been thrust into the welcoming arms of an entire new social group, who are all more than lovely. The funny thing is, one of the members is my next-door neighbour, and I never even realised it until after I was welcomed to the group. How small this world is! But not literally. I'm pretty sure a diameter of 12,756.32 kilometers doesn't exactly class as small.
I have also began to expand my social life to south of the river, where I have befriended an amazing new guy. He is sweet, kind and very cute. I am looking forward to seeing him more. But enough of that. The internet is no place for such discussions! Which is a total lie because the internet is made for everything.
95% porn, fair enough.
But it has other uses.
Such as this amazing blog you are reading right now. Which is amazing. From this amazing person. Who is also amazing. Just to remind you, in case you forgot.

My relevant word of the day would probably have the be "narcissism".
I jest. You all know I'm kidding.

The REAL relevant word of the day is actually "amazing".
Because I am.


Just to clarify...

Sunday, 14 August 2011

My New Boyfriend

Hey again. Just wanted to let you know that I have a new boyfriend.
He is truly amazing!
He is the lead guitarist/singer in his own band! How cool is that!?? =D
He really makes me happy and we both make each other laugh all the time. We really bond, you know? I personally think that this will go far. Who knows, maybe one day we'll elope to New York and get married. =)

So yeah, just wanted to tell you all about him, because he is a big part of my life now, and I wanted to share our happiness with you.

Oh, by the way his name is Matt Bellamy.
That's right, MATT BELLAMY.


I know that no one will believe me, so here is photographic evidence of our love.

Fresh love <3

I know that no one will believe me, so here is photographic evidence of our love.

~ Random Story ~

So not too long ago, I was in work, and one of my work friends really surprised me with something. We were on the topic of what we want to do after we graduate (I want to study French for a while, go to France, come back then go to uni to study either teaching or psychology), and he told me he wanted to join the army as a rifleman. This shocked me, to be honest. This is how the rest of the conversation went:
Me: "Wow, aren't you scared?"
Him: "... Yeah."
Me: "Then why are you doing it?"
Him: "To serve my country. You can't let fear hold you back in life."
Me: *stunned into silence*

I don't know, I was really shocked my this. It sort of challenged my cynical views on Generation Y.
Was it wrong for me to be so shocked?

Also, I was really conflicted by how to feel about this new information. I respected him for this unexpected display of bravery, but I also pitied him. I am against conflict, so joining the army isn't something I agree with, but I do not press my views on others. I still respect him for his brave choice, despite how wasteful I think it is. I hope I'm not the only one that thinks this way.

That's all for now.

Jon out! x

Wednesday, 10 August 2011

Cultural Ignorance

So, I was on Omegle, trolling as I do. Then I got this one person who is one of those people that know nothing of Australia other than it is a bush-desert country full of koalas, kangaroos and the citizens live in tin shacks and wrestle crocodiles before eating tucker. Ah, I love having fun with such ignorance.
As you can imagine, I trolled them. I trolled them well.

Here is the conversation:

You: Where are you from? =)
Stranger: You first
You: Australia
You: Land down under
You: Full of drop bears and chlamydia infected koala bears
Stranger: Wow
Stranger: im from singapore
Stranger: Its hot here
You: Jealous
You: Australian summers are hot
You: Mainly because I'm here
Stranger: Oh no you wouldnt be if you live here
Stranger: Its better in australia i bet
You: Well a week ago, a drop bear ate my dog =/
You: Not that great here
Stranger: OMG S
Stranger: SERIOUS
Stranger: ?
You: Yeah
You: They're really bad in my part of town
Stranger: they can eat you up anytime if thats the case
You: Nah they're not big enough
You: They're like dogs
You: They've injured a few people though
Stranger: ohhhh wow thats serious
Stranger: the authority didnt take any actions on the bears?
You: They're an endangered species so we're not allowed to kill them
You: We just have to put up fences to try keep them out, but they always climb over anyway
You: I have a scar on my ankle from where one bit me when I was 8
Stranger: Omg thats terrible
Stranger: really
Stranger: build a cage?
Stranger: since fences doesnt work
You: Not allowed to put them in cages
You: The PADB will be on our case (Protection of Australian Drop Bears).
You: Probably get a fine
Stranger: ohhhh wow
Stranger: so the authority rather let the bears hurt you guys
You: Pretty much. Rather we get a couple of scratches and bites than let the species go extinct
You: Because they eat koalas and keep the population down
You: Because we're starting to get over populated with koalas
Stranger: ohhhhhh koalas are cute!!
You: Hence the chlamydia outbreak
You: Haha not when they have chlamydia
Stranger: whats chlamydia?
You: A sexually transmitted disease
Stranger: WOW
You: My pet koala, Rogers, has it. He's at the vet at the moment but we get him back tomorrow! =)
That was an article about the chlamydia outbreak
You: At first they thought they'd be extinct within 30 years, but then the koala population just went crazy and they started breeding heaps
You: Now you'll be lucky to walk to the shops without seeing a couple in the trees
Stranger: wow
Stranger: im speechless!
Stranger: haha
You: It was pretty big over here
Stranger: You mean the population of the koalas?
You: No the chlamydia outbreak
Stranger: oh
You: It spread to humans in a couple of cities because people would catch it from the koalas
Stranger: WOW
You: Serves them right though, it's law to use a condom with a koala
Stranger: WHAT?
Stranger: They have sex with the koala?
You: Yeah it's legal here, as long as you use a condom. There aren't many women in Australia...
Stranger: Omg...
Stranger: Unnatural sex
Stranger: have you heard of it?
You: It's natural for Australia
Stranger: so do you have sex with the koala?
You: Sometimes, it's pretty much just like Kangaroo.
Stranger: oh
You: Rogers is kind of the family koala though, so I don't want to make things awkward.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

I love stupid people! =D

Sunday, 24 July 2011


So, time for introductions!

Enchanté, mes amis.  My name is Jon and I live in Australia. I am gay - yes, that's right, I like my men. Love it or leave. =) Just so that you have an understanding of what I look like, I drew you a picture.

Beautiful, I know. As you can clearly see, I am an artist. A very talented one, at that. I don't mean to toot my own horn or anything, but I'm probably better than Michelangelo.  Just being honest.
What you also might have gathered from that incredibly detailed self-portrait is that I am amazingly good looking. I mean, come on. Look at that drawing. If that isn't pure beauty, I don't know what is.

Anyway, onto more relevant (and factual) things.

Just to add a touch of mystery, I will give you different possible backgrounds so that you may choose my history and personality for yourself.

I was either:

Born in Africa, raised as a monkey and brought over to Australia in an unhygienic crate to be displayed in zoos across the West coast.


I was born in England and traveled to Australia when I was six for a better lifestyle.

Your decision.

Now, onto friends.

I am either:

So popular that absolutely everybody wants to be my friend, touch my skin for some form of comforting glory, and smell my hair for innate desires of closeness.


I have a small handful of friends and wished I had more.

(But the first is the clear choice...)

So Jon, how old are?

Let's just say I am:

Old enough to have a long, billowing beard that instantaneously announces my divine and endless wisdom and knowledge to all those that see it.


I am young enough to be surrounded by idiots who talk sh*t all the time.


I think you have a pretty good understanding of me by now.
It is very obvious, isn't it?

So there you go. That's me.
Now that you have gotten to know me a little, let me get to know you a little.

Please tell me about yourself, as I am always glad to meet new people and make new friends!

For now, my good chum.

Goodnight. x