DarkLightLuna
Can you tell a tall tale that doesn't start once upon a time ago? Can you tell a tall tale that'll last the whole night long?
Words can take you far away, stories double up as wings. How far away can you soar and how far can you sink?
Tell the stories, spin the tales, never be afraid to fly.
Withered branches on an old tree. Forever or just for this winter?
A word I knew in Chinese, but need to brush up on.
Everything leads to brainless panic in my mind.
I wonder what it would be like to be normal?
A lot more boring I would think.
I'm as normal as I'm going to get.
Judging by this stepping stone of thoughts, that's not very, .
Flames, flames on the side of my face!
I can't believe it took me that long to see that movie. It is one of those nice times where the fuss is really worth it.
Which reminds me. It says something about my life right now that I'm too tired to watch movies when I get home. So much for my plan to keep turning over Netflix DVDs.
Not that my very spotty mail delivery service is helping that along any.
I do wonder what happened to my shoes.
Who is weak? The boy who can't bend a bow or the one who can shoot straight but won't stand up to a bully?
Whether his arms shake or his knees lock up, do the details matter? Or is this courage and not weakness?
What about the one who eats the whole chocolate cake? Is he too weak?
Sentenced for a something he didn't do. Sentenced to a life she never wanted. Sentenced before he's even born.
Sentenced with two short words.
"I do."
A knock on the door can start an adventure or end a day. Is it Gandalf offering you the one ring or the pizza boy three hours late with your four cheese and veggie? Or an old friend showing up out of the blue, needing a place to crash for the night. Knock knock, who's there? No one you know.
Adding to and adding details. Are my stories the truth or did I add something to make them brighter? Or do I just collect bright stories and bright people with stories because I love the details. But at the heart of all my stories is the truth. The embellishments are few and far between and rare. Or have I just re-written the past to fit the bright picture in my head. I gotta write that book.
Remember English class senior year? All sorts of topics, but one of them was the idea that all of reality is just a shadow we see on the back of the cave. It was by some philosopher from Greece. I really should brush up on my philosophers. I mean, I learned them all in psych and history but I do need to review on Memrise or something.