She could change into anything she wanted, a butterfly, a bat or even a bulldog depending on her mood, which was really happy or really sad. But whether happy or sad, she was always pretty. Pretty like a daffodil, which she could not change into no matter how hard she tried. But she didn't need to, because daffodils were only one color, golden yellow, and she was all the colors of the garden.
kid(at heart).
- :B
- All was still and quiet. It seemed as if a magician had placed an enchantment upon the Earth and that everything in the world was bound in an eternal sleep and would remain frozen and unchanging forevermore underneath the watchful gaze of the twinkling stars, or rather the spinning blades of the ceiling fans, until some teacher taps on my table and demands i awake from my drooling slumber. I sleep alot, maybe too much in fact. My Mum always tells me that dreams are our actual lives, the lives we lead are the actual dreams, Buddhism.. Dying in your sleep would be the best way to die actually, it's ironic isn't it? I seldom let what people say get to me, even if it's true. Why ponder about what these "friends" say when you define your own existence? I'm always up for a nice chat, doesn't matter if you're beauty or beast. bitefrost-@hotmail.com, speak your mind. Be prepared for a session of mind-blowing intellectual debates with a cheeky 17 year old kid at heart.
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