I think that maybe I should introduce myself before we go any further, well, that's if you intend to go any further, which is *completely* up to you... I don't want you to feel obligated in anyway.. well.. yes I do.. but I figured I might as well be nice about the whole thing.

 Need to tell you about me now, my name is Derange. Well, that's not my real name, but if I told you my real real real name, it might put you in harms way, and I'm not about to do that just yet. So, you may be asking yourself.. "Why is this person telling me all of this? She's putting me in danger." But don't worry, "they" don't know about this web page.. yet. "They" might find out eventually, but by then you will be gone, and "they" won't know who you are, at least I hope not.

You might be wondering what this is about. "They" say I'm a Malkavian. A Malkavian, for those who don't know, is someone who "they" say is crazy. Personally, I know I'm sane, but just let "them" think I'm nuts, I don't particularly care. Well, yes I do, but no one needs to know that. I'm giving you insights as to who I am right now, and I really want you to pay attention.

Stop looking at all the graphic thingies and Pay attention to what I'm saying here, please.

To be honest, before I became what "they" say is a Malkavian, I was hanging out in Bellevue hospital in Manhattan. "They" said that I should get an evaluation of some sort. What-ever. That's what "I" say. What-ever. I didn't need to be evaluated. I knew what was wrong with me. "They" didn't. "They" said that it was a bad bad bad thing to slice my arm open. I just wanted to see if my blood was really green. It looks green from the outside, ya know?

Help was what they had in mind when "they" sent me there. Well, yeah.. so I was in Bellevue getting an "evaluation" and "they" took me out to meet, well.. we'll call him Martin, though his name wasn't really Martin. (We're back to the safety issue again, take a moment to thank me). Anyway, "Martin" and I went for a stroll one night. I knew "they" were watching, but I didn't let it get to me, because I figured that "Martin" was one of "them" anyway. So "Martin" and I made it all the way to Central Park and he sat me down (sat me down, meaning that he pushed me down and made me giggle a lot), and bit me. He said that I was to be one of "them" now, because the time was right.. or the time was now... the time was something or other. But I didn't want to be one of "them," you see?

Me? Well I left, and here I am, hiding out in one of the boxes high above the street. "They" can contact me, but I'm safe for now. At least I hope so. See, I really want to meet more people who managed to leave "them" but everyone is in hiding, so it makes things terribly difficult. "They" don't know about my secret hideout, so I was just wondering.. do any of you know how to avoid "them?" If you do, let me know! I'm always willing to discuss "them" in the super secret coffee shop by my house (In New York City, Manhattan).

I'm gonna go now, I'll write more later... and to my fellow hider-outers.. be safe, and write me soon!

~Derange~