Hey welcome to my page, glad you could make it, if you are here confused about a visit I paid to your page, please see the blog below..Badges are available, you are welcome to any that you wish to collect. I am Daralyth, or D..take your pick. I have been developing on IMVU for about two years now, more seriously lately than ever. I do not design for everyone. I am an acquired taste you might say. I appreciate your visit and hope to see you again soon. As you probably have already noticed, I am not 45 I have proof, but do to the act of congress IMVU requires to fix the age thing, I decided to leave it. Plus it scares away kids. Ok,Due being annoyed at IMVU's intellectually challenged members, I have decided to spell it out..Yes I am gay, NO I will not hit on you, nor am I interested in you in anyway. You will NOT, I repeat NOT catch the gay for being on my page. As much fun as that would be, STILL NO, you can't. Its disappointing I realize. Knowing me, or having me on your friends list will not make you gay, or any more attractive, you are still a moron. If you want me on your friendslist, it is to get to know me, OR keep up with my products. I will not hit on you, ask you on a date, ask you to cyber, (I get it in real life, trust me its better), nor will I lust over you in anyway. Again I have taste. As for friendship, and interesting conversation, I can give you that..Sorry to break those little closeted hearts out there..lol. As you can tell I am quite sick of the homophobes out there, that think every gay is going to hit on them..All of my gay friends have taste, they dont want you either.

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It's Christmas Eve. And I'm dying. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Most children look forward to Christmas. Looking forward to getting presents, having wonderful food, hanging out with friends, playing with their toys. But not me. I never really had anything to look forward to at Christmas. Just my parents fighting over petty things, and always finding something to blame on me. The fighting always seems to be at its worst on Christmas Eve. So I always go for a wander and watch other kids running around. Being kids I suppose. It's a painful reminder that I never got to be one. I had to grow up pretty fast. Learn to care for myself. I don't remember the last time Mum and Dad did something for me. I don't even remember the last time they said they loved me. Well, I suppose thats because they don't. I don't really have a set path I follow when I walk. I just grab a jacket, my shoes, my hat and stuff my I-Pod into my pocket and leave. I come back some time in the morning, when everyones waking up. Around the same time my parents stop fighting and go to sleep. So it's safest time for me. When I start walking, I just forget about all my problems. My life. Walking erases everything. I dont watch where I go, I just keep my head down and follow a footpath. I started to head home as the sun began to rise. The birds were chirping as they woke up and the children were laughing as they opened their presents. I wonder what it's like. Having a happy Christmas. Or even, having a Christmas. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ There was a car speeding down the road I was wandering on. They were swerving everywhere. They hit a traffic island and veered straight towards me. I dont know how fast they were going when they hit me. But I presume, quite fast. When we collided my body turned into a rag doll. I crumpled at the point of impact. I flew over the bonnet and bounced off the back of the car. They didnt stop or even slow down for me. They left me on the side of the road, bleeding profusely. It's an interesting sensation, watching as your life, your blood pours out of you like a waterfall, and not feel a thing ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Well, it's Christmas morning. My parents are asleep. The birds are chirping. The children are laughing. And I'm dying. I finally got my Christmas present. Merry Christmas. Pretend you could take everything you don’t like about yourself, every experience that pains you and peel it away like dried paint. Now place it in a box, an old shoe box from a pair of shoes you wore once and will probably never wear again. Seal the box, with duct tape, super glue anything to keep it shut, anything that will lock it away. Wander into the woods, a field, a place no one goes and dig; dig till you disturb the worms and the bugs, dig till you see the water break through the mud. Now throw the box in, cover it up and walk away. Don't look back. ... Five years later you return, you’re older, wiser and yet you still have come back here. You dig, dig back into the earth you cast yourself away in so long ago. The box is there, it’s worn and wet, almost not a box but something living. Open it. You find yourself back at the beginning with the things you hated most. Yet, now you wonder why you did such a thing. Inside that box are not traits and memories that disgust you, but things you realize meant the most. You scoop them up and hold them close, knowing that they are you as well, that you are what you are today because they existed. And deep inside yourself you feel thankful for all the pain and sadness because you know the smile on your face today is real.

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How I wish and pray to write these frustrations away There's the haunting past holding tight to me focus seems to difficult every gasp of oxygen burns every tear and scream every touch and pain God how I wish some days that a simplitan like myself could just change it but then again that molded me every stupid moment made me myself Didn't every fight teach me the tears made me that much stronger a scream gave me a voice woven words made my a tad feisty, I admit but what can you expect The harsh blows raining down... the words that gave a reason to prove myself... encouraging comments to add pride to my step... the near-death experiences that make me treasure life... unforgettable and unforgivable nights that made me hold tight to faith... What created the strength in my though is what holds my weakness What made me want so desperately to be... to be... what I could never The past that created me and forged the beast within So to be grateful... or unthankful...?