I would like to be a worm. A carefree existence, where I eat as much dirt as my stomach can hold, and unload it all the same.
Where I remain hidden from view under a cool, safe rock.
Where if I were split in twain, I would have a new friend to nurture together.

The more I think of it, the more my life resembles that of a worm already.
We even bleed the same.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Life does not have to be all misfortune, but you aren't getting it without effort. Be it as little as the strength to open your eyes. In seeing both fortune and less, contrast is built. Through contrast we can view the world in new ways, and work to change it for the better. Though, sometimes it is not your own eyes which you have to see through.

Happy Friday the 13th~.

Thus the time of change comes, the world alters around us. Each step, each decision, we mould it. And it turn, it moulds our vessel. But, that is only what the world interacts with, our masks. There is something deeper, the roots that fuel the high crowns of verdant splendor, something our decisions merely scratch the surface to.
Yet, in time, even that can wear.

Happy Filthy Friday the 13th~.

There is this phenomenon, where what an artist puts the least amount of time and effort in, compared to the rest of their works, will be what gathered the most attention. If it received 20% of the work, it receives 80% of the attention. Some say it is close enough to be likened to mere confirmation bias, you see the times an artist has a catalogue of work they are proud with - less so the further back you go - but what got them where they are is in comparison, small, inconsistent, reductive...

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It is a funny thing, because I haven't thought about it much. That thing which many crave, to which so much prose is drafted, to which so many tunes are sung. Perhaps it has been easier to not think about it. Perhaps it is something I desire, despite the fact I have not sought it. There is a nagging sensation in my mind, asking me if I can truly be satisfied without it. The answer has always been foregone for me. But, perhaps it is just foreign to me. Unlike so many others, who claim: we're no

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Honestly, I'm not at all surprised. Their films aren't even good in the first place. Nobody asked for unnecessary Ice Age and Rio sequels.

Majority of the films verge on funny and ridiculous which I'm really not a fan of. Them playing it safe by adhering to the "animation is for kids" ideology garnered their cash cow films with mixed/average critical reception.

That's what happens when money-driven corporations like them don't innovate. Goodbye and good riddance, I guess.

Recurring Symmetry is a lot of firsts. It's my first one-shot over five thousand words, first G5 fic, and first fic where I've engaged with the wider Fimfiction community. It has also spurred me to try and clean up my grammar, a difficult notion I won't lie. I can't say it's perfect, but I'm trying (with help) and anything noticed would be of great aid.

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How much excitement is your time worth? If an experience brought you less excitement than it has done in the past, is it worth less to you? What if you did it with someone else? How much is their excitement, worth in terms of your time? Had you spent your resources elsewhere, and gained further satisfaction and excitement alone, was your time better spent? Each other person, surely does the same, so should each care only for their own investments?

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Long nights and cool stars, the sounds of road frogs croaking, time passes us by and through it we venture. Some steps you have cherish, the ones you enjoyed the most, for their mark on you is fleeting, and on the road even more so.
It is the memory that entertains the goodwill of those steps, even if by time the memories erode and reshape. It does not matter if the step you remember were in reality as great as you conceived, all that matters is what it means to you.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

This week, we continue with the chronicles of the unfortunate Changeling, though this time, they are going on new ventures. Another chapter opens, and we will see what fate he shall be lead to.

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Perhaps what awaits us is pleasant? A notion often dismissed by those who have thought deep on the topic. It grows all the more pleasant, the less we know about it. Often, we can see things up, but we only notice the bottom, when it is clearly labeled. How much do we have provide?

Happy Filthy Friday of Matte Month~.

1, 2. 3, 4. The strands vibrate beneath my touch. 1 rings empty, 2 rings empty, as does 3 and 4. Perhaps, it was the ripples through the rest of my web? Perhaps the rhythm dispersed before it reached the end. Again. 1, 2. 3... was that? 4. Empty. It has been empty, each time I tried. Suppose nothing is coming.
...
1, 2. 3, 4. Empty. 1, 2. 3, 4... Perhaps, I should cease? The night bears down, silence reigns. Better to retire, and rise rejuvenated.

1, 2. 3, 4.
1... got you.

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Sometimes, despite doing all I can, the result is the same. Sometimes, despite all the resistance I put up, the opposition makes it through. In those times, my thoughts stray towards capitulation. There is little you can do to resist the forces out of my control.
Or, is there?
Thinking there is nothing one can do, breeds an ill behavior within me. And I think back to what I heard long ago: The bravest are those who know the odds are impossible, and still try.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Years become like days, as we traverse our paths. For each steps allows us to experience, and reflect upon all previous. Our journey becomes longer, and with it, our experience of it shrinks. An hour was a day, but now it is but a minute, a gradual change constant through our existence.
This awareness begets wisdom, a spark we cherish, and pass on for the future travelers.

Happy Filthy Friday, enjoy a scillitant weekend~.

When answering a question, take heed to consider if the answer you are providing is merely a recital, a regurgitation of what you have heard previously, what you have been told previously. And what importance does it serve? What can your personally add to it?
Or, what are you already adding, superfluously...

Happy Filthy Friday the 13th~.

Memory of pain differs so from the pain in the moment, a memory can amplify the hurt, can make it more meaningful in the living now. But, as memory fade, so eventually does the pain. We can tell ourselves it still hurts, though at some point, we just have ourselves, telling us we remember it. Those who can get through their pain, that is.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Today we have a new story coming up, how will Twilight react when all her friends have shrunken

Vision blotted by tears, the window to the soul grows dim. It shields the self in a bubble, reflecting ever inwards to offer a moment of respite. Perhaps it shuts out the world for a moment, to pretend nothing else exists. But, it is in the world that the self is made. However painful it becomes, eventually we blink.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Off in the distance,
The whistle of a kettle,
Receding further...

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Wish you well, Pikamee.

Today we continue the Throne Chronicles. With so many seats met before, how will this one hold for the changeling ambassador? Will they rise above, or be flushed down the drain.
Check out the story below.

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“What if,” Spike said, “Ginger Gypsy hadn’t been afraid to confess her love? Would you still hate her so much?”

I frowned. “Hate is a strong word. I never said I hated her.”

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