I'm April. I'm capable of carrying out full conversations in my sleep. I'm far too complex to even begin to be described in an "about me". It takes years to get to know me, and even then... there's most likely more to know. I'm a cynic, a smart ass, and come armed with a razor sharp wit. I believe in class as much as crass and I may well be the most adorable person you will ever meet. I pretend that cool doesn't exist, and inertia doesn't matter, I am hard and cold as fuck, but will instantly crumple under idealism. I used to be a writer, but now I just do everything else. I exist right in between the cause and the effect, and I'm a pretty impossible girl to be with. I am not ashamed of what you think I should be. I will not tame myself. My memory is like a safe. My heart is gold plated. My personality has no place to go home to. I'm a bit too strange for my own good. I guess you could say I'm an extreme personification of a natural side of the human persona which most try desperately to hide. I hate when people say that everything happens for a reason. That's definitely not true. Life is random and cruel. Fucking accept it and stop making excuses. People never know what to think of me. I always just leave those I know confused. I know better than to trust anyone. Ever. I am a musician, photographer and writer. I'll make you dick-shaped pancakes for breakfast. I make memories. It's all I know. It's all I do. It's all I am. Lifes a bitch If anyone really had it figured out, the world wouldn't be the way it is.