I want my closet to look like some urchin from 1860's london rolled through a mosh pit, got up, fell in some emo kid's closet; escaped from his pity ramblings, got stuck in a goth's shopping cart; once he escaped that after numerous punctures from finger armor, he then ended up in a rave, and swapped half his clothes with one of the seriously typsy candy ravers, and somehow made it back home.
Though that specific story ends "and then they thought he was the devil, and killed him." But we don't talk about that part. <.<;;
Though that specific story ends "and then they thought he was the devil, and killed him." But we don't talk about that part. <.<;;
