That’s cool tho. I would never think to do something like that!

Ugh, other people. And backlash. Sometimes we want to say, Screw ppl I’m doing my thing! but then we’re hard on ourselves for being wary about how they might view us. Struggle.

D’aaw. I can understand that panic. For what it’s worth, I think short hair looks great on all people. And I think you’d rock it if you ever go that route :)

the itch was inconsolable

my compulsion is flushed with a recycled kind of pink ner vious ness

the kind that makes itself dizzy and makes you pinch your ears so it’ll just stop

you’re greased and catharsis-charged and rumaging for a reason to just run

the sidewalk slicks down to peel the amber from the streetfog

shouldn’t drape the moment in logic anyway, take your chance captain

So realisticallyoptimistic hosted a writing challenge to write short snippets for her followers based of their blogs.

You're welcome. Keep writing :)

Roggy 

And sometimes, the smallest girl grows up and out until she is sure the tips of her fingers will graze wisps of sky. Despite everything she keeps her arms locked at her sides.

Chin tucked into chest, she smiles. Secretly, she knows what it is to be endless.  At night, when there is no one left to look, her arms reach so she can cradle starless sky. Nimble fingers shred clouds like tear away pieces of cotton candy.

She allows herself a taste and then back to the business of gathering dreams.

She lives humbly, hiding cotton-candy magnificence from the others. The others make their business normality; not as exciting as dream gathering, but with better hours.

 The smallest girl doesn’t care about this though, she’s happy to spend her daylight hours fabricating the illusion of being infinitesimal.

This way, at night she can become all the more tremendous.

It’s then that dreams become her strawberry jam and tea cake, her flowery wallpaper or her eccentric aunt: one of those peculiar little pleasures in which one indulges from time to time, but never publicly or with friends.

She keeps her compiled dreams for herself, locked away in a leather-bound notebook with a cloud for a book mark. She looks at them when she’s alone. The smallest girl holds the door open for you and receives no thank you, the smallest girl gets a haircut that no one notices, the smallest girl never gets more than a second glance from people in the street: she’s practically invisible. But you should keep your eyes peeled for the smallest girl, because one day you might come across her and not pass her by. And if you notice her and you stop to appreciate her and you’re very, very careful not to step on her, she might just let you see her full height.

Trust me, it is worth the wait: For in her quiet growth there is an astounding beauty that confounds the ordinary with unusual wonder; sweet as candy floss, twice as addictive, and infused with the odour of far off dreams.  Good luck finding her.

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