There's something very addictive about people pleasing. It's a thought pattern and a habit that feels really, really good until it becomes desperate.
I'm a workaholic. Before long I'm traveling on my nervous energy alone. This is incredibly exhausting.
My imagination completely controls me, and forever feeds the fire that burns with dark red light in my heart by bringing me the best dreams. I've always had a wild imagination, a big heart and a tortured soul so I feel that dark fantasy, love and horror are in my blood.

