Jace!

Do what you love.
Fuck the rest.
Hi. My names Jace. For those of you whom I don’t know,
I want this to be love at first sight. The door to my
memory palace is ceiled shut but each day it seems I
begin to remember a little bit about my past piece by
piece. It’s beginning to shape me. I was born in 1990
within a small town called Keswick. I can’t remember
much, but for the most part I guess you could say I’ve
had a heavy past.
I’ve crossed a bountiful of people. The most of them
have never fazed me. Half of them I envy, a quarter of
them I care about and a dozen of them I’m intimate
with and love. They know who they are
Gore, Music, Alcohol, Love, Drugs, Sex and dreaming in
and out of reality excite the fuck out of me; they
tend to hold my interest the longest. I’m diagnosed
with a mild split personality, it doesn’t affect my
life greatly yet, but it’s been given a name (Roman).
I’m blunt and honest. I’m extremely private and
secretive about my life but still I’m quite open. I
can’t talk about my feelings to some people. I have
too many barriers that blockade. There are a select
few who have ever heard me talk about how I feel; I
think my problems bury people.
I have a back-bone for a number of things but as for
holding grudges….I cant. I forgive and forget too
much. As for hating people I may talk a lot but when
it comes to following through I tend to crumble apart.
I’m a sucker for lips, eyes and people’s hand
gestures. I have a fear of drowning; when I was
younger I use to swim under the deck outside our
cottage by the water. I tried it with my life jacket
on but didn’t think that my life jacket would get
caught by the nails from under the dock. I happened to
survive by mere luck when my dad noticed I hadn’t come
up within 1min. I was resuscitated. I have a fear of
growing old. I’m too sensitive and watching my great
grandmother suffer from leukemia in my basement until
she withered away and died in her bed, was too much
for me to handle. When she gave me her ring before she
died I made a conscious decision to not live past the
age of 60. Dead birds make me sick, and solemnly
thoughtful of death. I happened to be 10 when I killed
a bird with my broomstick thinking it would fly away
before I could hit it; I think it affected me more
than I thought.
I’m not extremely insecure but enough to wear sweaters
often. I’m a hypocrite sometimes. I’m extremely
defensive about everything and take things to heart
way to often. I play the piano and sing usually
discreetly. I tend to love the most abnormal and
strangest things. I’ve always wanted to have
sex while playing a fighting game like mortal combat
or street fighter. I sleep in the nude cause I find
clothes irritating.
And my last names Armstrong.
Im Damaged Bad, At Best