:: Searching for Puck... ::

:: Monday, February 03, 2003 ::

I wear lives like stolen coats.

I am warm, and happy for a time, but I know that these lives are not my own. I can see through the eyes of others, share in their triumphs and joys, but still I remain what I was born to be..a gypsy vulpine with a closet full of stolen costumes.

I can take my life in a hand, and glance over it, and still it is alien to me. I might as well be asked to live my life as a star, or a snowfall. I cannot comprehend why I am given this life, and what I am to do with it. So far, all I am able to do is watch and imitate, much the manner a child might. I still do not understand what it is to be grown, to be an adult. Hardships and sorrows that I have been given, and dragged through...these give me the mask I need to walk unnoticed amongst my peers, but leave me wanting for the true knowledge, the absolute knowledge, of what it is to live.

My happinesses and my sadnesses are like summer storms...fierce but terribly brief. I grasp at them, try and gather them to me, hide them away to study and bind, and yet I might as well try and keep a raindrop a raindrop. My experiences either become a vast and indistinguishable puddle or, more often, evaporate and leave only the debris behind.

How very strange it is to know that you should be something, and yet, for anything you may try, you cannot even begin to.

~Fox
Penny for your thoughts?

:: Fox 2/03/2003 08:24:00 PM [Say what?] ::
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