24 November 2012
I want to be a writer. Writing impossible, fake, characters. Werewolves, space aliens, people who don't mess up, soulmates, Best Friends FOREVER, outgoing soicialbutterflies, and people who raise the roof just as well as sumo wrestlers can lower the floor. Writing makes it possible to have a rendevous with Santa's elves and for everyone to thinking turkey bacon is the bomb diggity. I could be a pretty pretty princess,the dream of a naive 5 year old girl. It could rain butterflies and I could make sense. Mystery. Realistic Fiction. Historical Fiction. Fables. Tall Tales. Narritive Nonfiction on goats. Memiors. Stupid random junk that means everything to me. Pigs could raid grocrey stores, lobsters could take over the world, and people wouldn't have to say yum after another says Red Robin! Everything I want to exist could be real with just a notebook and pen.
Confusing Ol' Me Chapter 2 • Opuss № I