Vivianne "Vivi" Lee | Gabriel "Sylar" Gray

So. Been a little absent lately, but I blame that on summer classes. You can't imagine how intense a Graduate Seminar on Plato can really be until you've been there. Especially with this nut popping up in my head every five minutes to monologue about the meaning of life in relation to the Allegory of the Cave. Jesus Christ. Did I have to get stuck with the philosophical serial killer? I think I could have handled it if I just had one of those people that went around blowing shit up for fun. But nooooo. He has to get all ultimate destiny and true purpose about it.

Still can't see where the emo is coming from, though. I went out and bought seasons one and two of Heroes out of a certain morbid curiosity, but other than the whole dead mother thing... Not seeing the emo here.

And then there's the fact that my possessions keep turning to dust any time that I get pissed off. Not to mention all the other weird bullshit that I've barely got a hang on.

So! How be the League of Extraordinary Gentle Men and Ladies?

On my best days, it feels like my head is going to split in two. I popped a fist full of pills, but they haven't even bothered to try and kick in yet. Fucking mind is on overdrive again. And here, all this time, I thought I'd just been cursed by some sort of genetic glitch, but no, turns out that it's the fucking serial killer in my head that has, and the goddamn sonvabitch doesn't even have the decency to keep his fucking issues to his own goddamn self.

Wow. That was a lot of curse words. Jacob'd be proud.

So, I guess I should introduce myself. Parents named me Vivianne Virginia Lee, but that's a mouthful, and Vivianne is just too many keys. Just call me Vivi. And I suppose I should at least let you all know who the cocky, fucked up little mama's boy that's in my head is. Calls himself Sylar, apparently. Don't know what kind of name that is, but there you have it.

I'm going back to bed.