In which: Suicide and Leeches

I really, really, really, really want EA's book. Goddamnit, I need a job. Instead I'm stuck with no job, and no qualifications as of yet apart from GCSE's. I should be getting a job soon, though. At the Tiger's ground. I'll be the envy of my step-grandfather and my father. Buahahahahaha! Anyway. That's not what I was coming to post for. Although gloating is fun.

In my last blog (I originally typed that 'lost blag') I told you all I'd actually begin to show some insight. And I will. Fuck, my head's swimmy. This, boys and girls, is why you should drink frequently throughout hot days. Coss you feel like feinting. Anyway. Fuck sake. I keep going off on a tangent. I even do that in my stories. I like to write this as if I'm actually speaking it. And if you imagine me reading this in my voice, you'll probably punch the computer screen. I sound all posh and husky. And very, very English.

Anyway. EA was in Kerrang this week. I missed it. This upset me greatly. I actually feel a bit like crying. Emilie is literally my heroine. Not as in the drug kind, as in the female hero kind. She's dealt with so much, but she's still alive. She's one of the most successful people ever. So what if she's not famous? Really? Is fame all there is today? Is getting your face in the paper (Even something shitty like the Metro) all that people care about? It disgusts me. You ask any muffin why they like Emilie, and they will tell you it's because she's the same as them. Sure, her caberet show is insane (and breath-taking, and amazing, and we won't go into that), sure she has the most amazing voice ever, and sure her musical prowess is heart-wrenching. But at the end of it all, she's just like every other muffin.

(Warning for SHers: May be some triggers)
Every other muffin whom has struggled with voices whispering to pick up the knife. Every other muffin who knows what it's like to feel the rush as a blade is pushed through their skin. Every other muffin whom has written a suicide note. Every other muffin who is just that little bit "abnormal".

Emilie isn't famous, not exactly. But she isn't a pretentious, idiotic, 'look at me I'm on a pedastal' singer/performer that seems to be the norm today. This was going to be an article about my own suffering. But for now. Let's just raise our tea-cups in unison for the one, the only; Emilie Autumn!