Miss Aida
I am drawn to the darkness of life. Fascinated, by the more sinister aspects of human nature, of what lies underneath the façade of superficial smiles and appearance, unheeding of the goodness of nature, but drawn towards the twisted parts of humanity. Seduced by the flaws of humanity.

I seek the darkness. I seek the embrace of all that is unsavoury so their taint will linger on me, and I can taste the salty sting of fear as I bite my lip hard enough for blood to flow. And I welcome the taste on my tongue.

I find peace walking down the dark alleys of Melbourne on my own. Wrapped in night's cloak, I walk the shadowy paths, silent save for the thoughts in my mind, all senses on hyperdrive. Sensitive to the tread of footsteps behind me, letting the adrenaline pump through my veins should the occasion rise that I must take flight.

Yet, a part of me welcomes the intrusion of my thoughts, almost defiant, almost daring the other party to attempt ill-will. A reckless confidence, coupled with a streak of bloodthirsty violence.

I watch the faces of the night. The eyes glazed over by the alcohol heating their blood, the flushed faces high on life, the narrowed gaze of the unsavoury characters lurking down these lanes, and I smile to myself sardonically, feeling the heat emanating from their gaze.

The gaze of the suspicious, and the unholy, and the degenerate, and I meet their gaze, my expression carefully blank, my eyes shuttered, and in their gaze they recognize one of their kind, and pass on back into the shadows of the night.

And night after night, I continue my travels into the darkness, in search of something of which I cannot quite be sure of. Perhaps I seek to face the darkness in order to conquer what resides inside of me. Perhaps I live off the thrill of walking down the sharp blade of danger. Perhaps I seek peace of mind.

I cannot tell my fascination with the shadows.
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