About Me
Hey there! I'm Chris(topher)
I'm 17 and I'm a Junior at Foran.
I live in Milford, CT, USA.
I'm currently dating this awesomely amazing girl, Blake.
I'm into the gothic subculture. I love it. I know more about it than most, ask if you have any misconceptions. Like, for one, Goths don't prefer metal...
I'm a nice guy and like to have fun.
I'd choose to be alone at night than go out.
I am a quiet person, and I love intellectual conversations.
I love music, mostly Darkwave, Deathrock, and Gothic Rock.
I am very interested in philosophy, theology, and Blakeology.
I'm Catholic.
I have my driving permit and a job. I work at Mr. Mac's Canteen.
People are interesting.
I'm an above average poet. I am also writing a book called, "Melancholy Rose".
I love all my friends. And I love to help people.
I am bisexual. I am a founding member of my school's GSA.
I am also in the SAL.
Anything else you want to know just ask or send me an IM for AIM at: HereMeWhisper.
.."http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vdmFtcGlyZWZyZWFrcy5jb
20vdS9IZWFyTWVXaGlzcGVy">Here's my vf profile
..
BY a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule —
From a wild weird clime, that lieth, sublime,
Out of SPACE — out of TIME.
Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Titian woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the dews that drip all over ;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore ;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead, —
Their still waters, still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily.
By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead, —
Their sad waters, sad and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily, —
By the mountains — near the river
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever, —
By the gray woods, — by the swamp
Where the toad and the newt encamp, —
By the dismal tarns and pools
Where dwell the Ghouls, —
By each spot the most unholy —
In each nook most melancholy, —
There the traveller meets aghast
Sheeted Memories of the Past —
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by —
White-robed forms of friends long given,
In agony, to the worms, and Heaven.
For the heart whose woes are legion
'T is a peaceful, soothing region —
For the spirit that walks in shadow
'T is — oh 't is an Eldorado!
But the traveler, traveling through it,
May not — dare not openly view it ;
Never its mysteries are exposed
To the weak human eye unclosed ;
So wills its King, who hath forbid
The uplifting of the fringid lid;
And thus the sad Soul that here passes
Beholds it but through darkened glasses.
