milky poodle and honey

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2014-07-14 16:52:39 (UTC)

Randomness, madness and.. cake?

I may not have remarkably changed over the years but there definitely has been some significant improvements (I hope, at least)
For one, my fear of almost everything has diminished. I've learned voices from outside the window are more often raindrops than serial killers trespassing, feeling and allowing myself to, even if it means risking rejection will only wash away future regrets. Being wrong in situations is not the end of the world, it's experience. BUT what I will be forever afraid of, even if the world turns to cake and ducks, will be cockroaches. Never, ever ever ever will I move on from this. It's the sort of feeling you know deep down in your bones.
Speaking of bones and ducks, I had a very vivid memory of when I was little and stole a dozen eggs from the kitchen. I sat on them hoping my love and warmth will hatch them into ducklings (never mind the fact that they were chicken eggs) but unfortunately, I was covered in egg yolks and shells and had to a face a very furious mother.
THAT is a perfect example of how my love is something not everyone can hatch from (???)
I'm almost seventeen but feeling sixteen feels odd. I'm the same age as a lot of novel protagonists {(not that the prospect fascinates me, particularly because there exists no supernatural creatures (or well none that we know of because I'm not ready to let go of vampires yet)}
Still, it's an awkward age. You're no longer a child, but you aren't an adult yet.
Hmm, like cake that has been in the oven for while. It's not raw, it's just not there yet.
Rising, but not quite done.
I like being cake. I formally declare myself cake.
Speaking of, when WILL I eat a piece of cake again? *sighs and daydreams into oblivion*