Illusion Like a weed

When I'm happy it seems I have less to write for some reason. Rabbits out of hats, ribbons out of sleeves, coins out of ears; Illusionist. I'm stubborn. I still refuse to stop believing the so-called impossible. When I think about it carefully, I've only heard what the rules of the world are from other people's mouths, and they've heard it from newspapers, and other people too. Why should I have to take anyone's word for anything? How can they say something is impossible, just because someone else says so, or because we all generally accept it to be true? That doesn't necessarily mean it's true for me. So I'll continue being stubborn. Like a weed.

Not the Whole Story

The purpose of this blog is to give snippets and tid-bits of my life, and not the whole story. I've never been very great at giving the whole story. Call me the person that believes in riddles and mysteries. I think people should maintain their own sort of mysterious air. Not a snotty, rich-kid air, but an air that doesn't impress everything about yourself on other people. Don't wear your heart on your sleeve, you know. And don't wear your mind, either. Only when the stage calls for it. Or when you call for it. If you always wear your heart on your sleeve, someone might steal it, you know. Or it might fall and break into a thousand pieces. What will you do then? And simply, don't repeat the same stories a thousand times, even if it's to different people. Use that energy to go and find some new ones. It would be infinitely more interesting that way.