I was Vriska in my life previous to my last one. I lived and breathed and fought as a grey skinned creature with blue blood pumping through my veins. I was a self absorbed vain thief, a liar, a cheat. A brooding, angry troll with a twisted smile and a desire for attention. And later I was repentant, guilty, and genuinely desiring of a second chance.

If I had never read homestuck

  • I would have still felt that I was supposed to have horns, and fangs
  • I would have still looked for a word to describe the kind of romantic enmity that entranced me my whole life
  • I would have still woken up in the middle of the night, wondering why I thought I couldn’t see out of one eye
  • I would have still been obsessed with captain hook since I was 3
  • I would have still had a crush on Nic Cage as a little child
  • I would have still thought that I was supposed to have black hair
  • I would have still remembered fragments of a sky with two moons
  • I could go on.

Vriska is only fictional in this universe, by a strange fluke that caused Andrew Hussie to write about the events of another people and another world.

I was Vriska. A part of me still is Vriska. A part of me was Vriska when I was Ken Ichijouji. A part of me will always be Vriska.