Where on earth do I begin?
In your typical reflective process, sorting out what to share and what to keep to yourself, seems like such a chore when you haven't updated in months!
Not in a terrible way of course. Just in the, "Does any of this really have some significance to be shared?".
I guess I shall wait and see
I have always been the kind of girl to put my cards face-up on the table. However, it's not entirely up to me as to how they are read.
I'd say the biggest intrigue for almost the last year in my little world is practically staring at me as I type, meowing her questions at me ever so delicately. The only time she truly ignores me is when she is bathing herself. All other times she is following me around like my own personal little lamb, reminding me that there is a soft spot in my heart that other's (more often then not) are readily aware of.
She is lily-white. Wide and globe like yellow-green eyes and her squishy sort of nose are two of my other favorite features. She is the intricate world in which the both of us share a common place. (Minus the curly white whiskers.)
It's funny how you can see the silliest ideas reflected in another living and breathing thing. At least in my point of view, I see what I do. All of the personal curiosities, the abstained interests, and desire for some warmth and connection. It's all there. Identifiable and catagorized first by myself, then full circled back and recognized unto me.
I really wonder if a story can really ever be told by someone other than the author and the reader. In a way, it's apparent that it can only be comprehensible when the listener is prepared for it.
I guess thats what these blogs are really for. I may have to start my own. Make that my religious efforts. A cathartic example of my personal ironies.
It's time to take a hold of the way in which my story is written, and see what I see through my very own looking glass.
Chapter 1 Synopsis
(Text)
"I need a change of worlds asap"
11:01AM Sat, June 20
To: Cody.Bunny
In your typical reflective process, sorting out what to share and what to keep to yourself, seems like such a chore when you haven't updated in months!
Not in a terrible way of course. Just in the, "Does any of this really have some significance to be shared?".
I guess I shall wait and see
I have always been the kind of girl to put my cards face-up on the table. However, it's not entirely up to me as to how they are read.
I'd say the biggest intrigue for almost the last year in my little world is practically staring at me as I type, meowing her questions at me ever so delicately. The only time she truly ignores me is when she is bathing herself. All other times she is following me around like my own personal little lamb, reminding me that there is a soft spot in my heart that other's (more often then not) are readily aware of.
She is lily-white. Wide and globe like yellow-green eyes and her squishy sort of nose are two of my other favorite features. She is the intricate world in which the both of us share a common place. (Minus the curly white whiskers.)
It's funny how you can see the silliest ideas reflected in another living and breathing thing. At least in my point of view, I see what I do. All of the personal curiosities, the abstained interests, and desire for some warmth and connection. It's all there. Identifiable and catagorized first by myself, then full circled back and recognized unto me.
I really wonder if a story can really ever be told by someone other than the author and the reader. In a way, it's apparent that it can only be comprehensible when the listener is prepared for it.
I guess thats what these blogs are really for. I may have to start my own. Make that my religious efforts. A cathartic example of my personal ironies.
It's time to take a hold of the way in which my story is written, and see what I see through my very own looking glass.
Chapter 1 Synopsis
(Text)
"I need a change of worlds asap"
11:01AM Sat, June 20
To: Cody.Bunny
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
I met a companion spirit of yours in Prague. More a companion face than a companion spirit, rather. She had the same flare for burlesque and the smirk that goes with.