Bill Kaulitz: I’m a Deathly Sexed up Rocker during the day, a thirsty soul during the night.

“I’ve never seen anything else, quite like you. You look at me vacantly empty just stare right through.” Damn, that girl over there is killing me. I could smell her all the way from up here. The stage is huge, there’s a gap between me and these adoring fans but that girl; she smells way good that even Victoria’s Secret angel doesn’t smell like this. Okay, guilty as charge. I’m a rocker man, give me some credits for singing out loud, making money, but I do need to get bedded with some Hot Victoria’s Secret models sometimes.

My throat is getting drier than the summer drought. My eyes, they seem to vaguely blur itself into a dark shade color of mocha brown instead of the usual color of hazelnut brown. I thank God for this designer shade of mine that these girls couldn’t see how my eye color evolves according to how unfed I am. The venom in my mouth slurred in between the words I’m singing. I can’t seem to stop focusing on that girl, seriously even these girls up front starting to get jumpy trying to get my attention. Sigh; just stop moving so much bitches, I can’t see the girl! But hey, my handsome smile always gives away whatever shady thoughts in my mind. They’d fall for it like a moth to a flame.

So that was that, a day in Asia. And here I am, lazing around my hotel room waiting for the sun to fall, so that the moon could rise and I could feed. So swimming around with my thoughts into my e-diary actually helps me, really. I mean, besides looking good all the time. I would feel lonely, but like those fans really care? They basically are just fondling over my rockstar-ness rather than my own true self. I mean, I love them but sometimes they could get a little bit obsessive, and not to mention possessive that I can’t even date anyone without them throwing a mourning party for it. Thinking their life would be over, they need to hang themselves, blah blah blah … Just because If I were to date anyone that is. I mean have some mercy; I want to be loved too you know. Now I’m being like some emo piece of shit, as if I’m going through a menstrual cycle or something. I might as well be a pregnant woman.

Oh, I think I better start going to church or something and sit in those confession booths. “Oh forgive me father for I have sins, I have banged a lot of girls, yet not one I love. You see my problem here man! I am not capable of falling in love! I mean, how pathetic is that!” Now that’s an idea. I should go tell Tom. Bet, he thinks I’m brilliant. Ha. Well, I better log out, before anyone reads my diary. See you, Muah. I’ll make love to you once I get back; I mean make words for you. Wish me luck, hopefully there’s a delicious meal tonight for me, my sweet, sweet metallic black flying macbook. Okay, so I call you that because I personally think its way cooler than “macbook air.” It sounds so laaaaaame. Later!

Thirsty for more of what's inside of Bill's head? Well, Dollies. You have to wait.