sylle

anonymous asked:

Sylar. You seemed to really care for Elle. Why did you kill her?

I cared for my mother but I killed her too. Funny how me killing someone only matters if I have fucked them.

I killed her because she not only used me once when I was Gabriel but she lied to me. She used me as her little toy again. She led me to continue to think the Petrelli’s were my family, letting me play the good son as I worked for her and Arthur. The moment I found I she had to go. I despise being used and I despised being lied to even more. It’s once of the many reasons I instantly went after the lie detector ability after killing and burning her body. Yes, it was one of the more painful kills I had to make, but Elle had to go. She made me lose focus and become a tool instead of the unstoppable force I truly am. I gave her a second chance to redeem herself and she proved herself unworthy of my company.

youtube

Sylle’s drum solo - The Ark @ Tavastia, Helsinki 4.3.2011

syllirium replied to your post “Soo… I mainlined the first two seasons of Hannibal in the last two…”

Yaaaaay, welcome to one more district of hell (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ・゚✧*:・゚✧ What was the last straw that got you here?≖‿≖

Thank you, thank you for the warm welcome (bwhaha) and it was actually this gifset coming up on my dash (though I’ve been admiring the art INCLUDING YOURS from afar for ages).  I looked at it, and then looked at it some more, then tracked maichan808 down and said, “IS THIS EVEN REAL?”  And she said: “OH YES.  Oh, and also [whistles innocently] the other person speaking is Hannibal’s wife.”  Obviously the only reaction you can have to that is: FUCK IT, LET’S DO THIS THING, right?

Kamyra

[[syll. ka-my-ra, kam-yra ], is pronounced KAHMAYRAH. The name Kamyra means ‘surrounded by light’.]

Everyone thinks I am a slut.

This story is not about my defense. I will let you all have your own opinion on me and I respect that.

I was raised in immigrant adoption house. My guardian never told me where and how she found me. The only thing she told is what my age is when I am officially became the part of the house. The furthest detail is only the description of that moment; my hair length, my height, weight. Just like medical form questions.


I ran from the house on my 16th birthday.

Almost everyone I met asked me why and I tell you the truth: I am longing for adventure. I want to experience everything. Sadness, depression, happiness, emptiness. Real things. I don’t want to grow up as a person who fakes her self-esteem by consistently being nice girl, just to wish her future can be better by adoption, or people pity you.

Since that I met a lot people. Some are nice, some are sh**s. Some people are meant to leave. I’ve been fall in love. I’ve been mad. I went to places. I saw what I want so see and some things beyond them. I was lost. I think I am and the rest of us. But that makes life is beautiful for me. The madness. It doesn’t have to be nice, fun, happy, tidy. You just need to be honest, be what you are.

So, I fucked everyone. The only moment I can feel good is only when somebody want me. Crave me. I can be whatever I want to show. I can be shy girl. I can be bold and dominating. I feel connected to this world when they touch me. When they caress me. Even it only lasts for a night. Or a moment. I will end up feeling disgusted with myself after that.

Yet satisfied.

Have you ever heard saying, “Supplying your addiction(s) is a way to compromise your desire to exist between life and death.”? That is the road I chose and it is interesting where it gets me. An asylum. For now, that is the safest zone I can reach. I couldn’t function properly. I was devastated, exhausted but I faked it it because I love doing it. I am great and natural on it. I embrace the boring days in here to eat, sh”t properly, have some activities to become normal. They even allow me to smoke, here, while society don’t. Amazing, isn’t it?

You do think I am pathetic right?

But that is exactly how everyone will end up in the end. We are just filling the time that we have. If we decide to.


It’s 10:02 pm, I’ve just finished my last cigar. Time to sleep.


Wherever you are now, I hope you will always like me.



<You are on the end of the text. 8/22/2015. St Cadoc’s Hospital. Newport. UK>