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sorcyressSometimes people need to know how loved they are.
This is kinda one of those days.
See. There's this girl. She's not always a girl, mind, but as today isn't Tuesday or Friday, I can safely use the feminine pronouns in referring to her.
(And that's just one of the hundreds and thousands and millions of things I love about her. )
So. This girl. I met her online, which is not uncommon. I meet a lot of people by trawling around the internets. Some I stay in touch with, some I don't. My contacts list comes and goes, and the people I chat with most tend to change from season to season.
Except her. She's always there. In the three and a half years I've known her, there's not been mor'en a few weeks where we haven't talked. If we had our way, it wouldn't ever be more then a few days. She's there. I've got a lot of people who are willing to hear my secrets, but she's one of the few who I'm willing to spill them to.
"So." I hear you all saying. "There's some girl who's a friend of yours. Get on with it." And I'm sorry to say that I can't just get on with it, not this time. This isn't that kind of post. This is an egoboost, and one that's been more then two years in the coming.
(It's actually almost a joke between us now. She harasses me for not having it done yet, I swear it's forthcoming, or claim it'll never be done. This particular version is at least the third version I've written.)
So.
So. There's this girl. This utterly amazingly wonderfully froody girl. There's this girl, and I love her to the moon and back, and I'm going to have a lot of trouble writing this.
I don't always care about my writing. For her, I am sworn to do a good job. Because in between everything else that makes her so amazing, she is Talented, most especially in the departments of drawing and writing. And because I don't know where to start, or where to go next, or what I should even do with this, I'll just start there.
She draws like she was born with a pen in her hand.
And she draws everything. She can draw fanart. She can draw comics. She can draw irrelevent mailmen and me as a zombie. (And with all these links, I haven't even offered my favourite. She can draw love.)
Like I said, she's good. She knows what humanoids look like, and how to sketch them out and put them into strange positions without making them look like ass. She can draw people in chibi forms or in anthro forms or normal, and she can even draw animals, which I have never gotten the hang of.
She is, in fact, an artist.
And it's not just drawing. She can write too. She's written things that have me rolling on the floor laughing and things that send shivers down my spine. She's good with the written word, and knows how to twist it to her will.
She draws, she writes, she sculpts little figurines of the assassins and wears them around her neck --I'm just pleased her voice is no better then mine. I don't think I could handle it if she sang, too.
There are people who I can count on, and people who I really can pick up the phone at three in the morning and call. She is both.
She is second to none at keeping me from being emo and dramatic. If I have a good day, I can tell her about it and she'll actually be interested and truly listen. If I have a shit day, the same thing.
She doesn't typically hug, but she'll hug me. She'll hold me if I need it, and knows well enough to leave me alone if I don't.
She cares.
About me.
'sa weird feeling sometimes. To realize somone out there really does give a shit about what happens to you, and wants you to do well and be happy and is willing to give up time and energy to worry about you and care about you.
'sa good feeling. Minding your buisness on chat when a window pops up with an enthusiastic *TACKLEPOUNCE* or even just a shocked set of letters exclaiming "SOR!" People need one another to look after them, and I'm truly happy that she looks after me.
And more then anything, she keeps me sane. I need people to keep me sane, I'm very dependant when it comes to my stability. She's been my stability for a long time now, without ever really knowing or realizing what she's doing. Yes, she's just under three thousand miles away. But even through the worst of it, I can close myself off and bury myself in the bits of her she's left in my mind and even without being there, she's protecting me.
Everyone has bad days. Everyone has something equivilant to my pit, which I fall into when I'm not paying attention. Not everyone has someone to pull them back out again, someone to grip on to desperately to keep from falling. I'm glad that I do.
I've met her, finally. Twice now even --once in my world, once in hers.
Oh lordy. Combined, maybe fifteen days or so. Money can't buy happiness, but it sure as hell can buy plane tickets, and that's happy enough.
We've rasseled. We've hugged. I've forced her into cuddling, and half the time she forces me into tickle-wars. We've spent nights close to each other, just revelling in one anothers existance. We've taught each other games and watched movies and gone for walks and wanders, sometimes with other people, sometimes without.
It's all glorious. She drives me mad sometimes, and by this point knows dozens of little ways to drive me mad (Ex: What do you know that I don't? :P) I've no doubt that if forced into close quarters for a long time, we'd be sick of each other.
But fifteen days in more then three years is not a lot of time to get annoyed. Time is precious, moreso with her.
With her, time is gold. And never enough.
Never, ever enough time. And usually my fault, which tends to kill me. She's on the good end of the time difference, when I'm falling over asleep, her clocks are just swtiching to midnight. I've got curfews and classes in the morning, and can't spend the night chatting without hating myself in the morning.
I wish more then almost anything that I could. I wish we could slow down the rest of the world, and spend long enough together to get sick of each other. It'd be lovely.
Never enough time to do it though.
"I saved Roosevelt"
As things to shout go, this one is uncommonly good. It's obscure, and strange, yet still accessible enough to be read as surreal rather then nonsense.
She shouts things at strangers. She dresses up as Italian assassins and eighteenth century chemists. She acts strangely, and it's not an act, it's just doing all the things everyone else wishes they could do on a regular basis. She has no shyness towards asking strangers if they've seen any spaceships (green ones!) lately.
More then anything else, this is where I wish I could be more like her. I wish I wasn't as scared as being thought a fool in public. I wish I didn't have such a fear of acting out and being wonderful. I wish I had her strength, and even moreso, her creativity. Not everyone knows how to truly stop conforming. She does.
She is genuinely weird, in ways that I can only dream about. I am a strange childe, but she manages to find ways and quirks that make her even stranger.
So yeah. This doesn't even begin to cover everything I want to say. Like I said, this is at least the third time I've written this.
I can never remember everything I want to say.
So I leave with this. OtherKat, I love you. I wish you all the best in the world, I wish you happiness, I wish you safety, I wish you ice cream and hugs.
I wish a life free from pain, and I hate that I can't deliver it to you. Hate.
I wish you here or me there. I wish us together. I wish you good luck and hope. I wish you the ability to always cause chaos.
I wish you the sun and the moon (But I have to confess, I wish Henry Jekyll in hell.)
I wish you the perfect pie shop and all the assassins to do with as you choose. I wish you HJ7 and PGGB's. I wish you a towel and a thumb and as many adventures as you want your life to have.
I wish you happiness eternal. I will do everything I can to ensure you have it.
-Unworthy of your love-
Sorcyress
This is kinda one of those days.
See. There's this girl. She's not always a girl, mind, but as today isn't Tuesday or Friday, I can safely use the feminine pronouns in referring to her.
(And that's just one of the hundreds and thousands and millions of things I love about her. )
So. This girl. I met her online, which is not uncommon. I meet a lot of people by trawling around the internets. Some I stay in touch with, some I don't. My contacts list comes and goes, and the people I chat with most tend to change from season to season.
Except her. She's always there. In the three and a half years I've known her, there's not been mor'en a few weeks where we haven't talked. If we had our way, it wouldn't ever be more then a few days. She's there. I've got a lot of people who are willing to hear my secrets, but she's one of the few who I'm willing to spill them to.
"So." I hear you all saying. "There's some girl who's a friend of yours. Get on with it." And I'm sorry to say that I can't just get on with it, not this time. This isn't that kind of post. This is an egoboost, and one that's been more then two years in the coming.
(It's actually almost a joke between us now. She harasses me for not having it done yet, I swear it's forthcoming, or claim it'll never be done. This particular version is at least the third version I've written.)
So.
So. There's this girl. This utterly amazingly wonderfully froody girl. There's this girl, and I love her to the moon and back, and I'm going to have a lot of trouble writing this.
I don't always care about my writing. For her, I am sworn to do a good job. Because in between everything else that makes her so amazing, she is Talented, most especially in the departments of drawing and writing. And because I don't know where to start, or where to go next, or what I should even do with this, I'll just start there.
She draws like she was born with a pen in her hand.
And she draws everything. She can draw fanart. She can draw comics. She can draw irrelevent mailmen and me as a zombie. (And with all these links, I haven't even offered my favourite. She can draw love.)
Like I said, she's good. She knows what humanoids look like, and how to sketch them out and put them into strange positions without making them look like ass. She can draw people in chibi forms or in anthro forms or normal, and she can even draw animals, which I have never gotten the hang of.
She is, in fact, an artist.
And it's not just drawing. She can write too. She's written things that have me rolling on the floor laughing and things that send shivers down my spine. She's good with the written word, and knows how to twist it to her will.
She draws, she writes, she sculpts little figurines of the assassins and wears them around her neck --I'm just pleased her voice is no better then mine. I don't think I could handle it if she sang, too.
There are people who I can count on, and people who I really can pick up the phone at three in the morning and call. She is both.
She is second to none at keeping me from being emo and dramatic. If I have a good day, I can tell her about it and she'll actually be interested and truly listen. If I have a shit day, the same thing.
She doesn't typically hug, but she'll hug me. She'll hold me if I need it, and knows well enough to leave me alone if I don't.
She cares.
About me.
'sa weird feeling sometimes. To realize somone out there really does give a shit about what happens to you, and wants you to do well and be happy and is willing to give up time and energy to worry about you and care about you.
'sa good feeling. Minding your buisness on chat when a window pops up with an enthusiastic *TACKLEPOUNCE* or even just a shocked set of letters exclaiming "SOR!" People need one another to look after them, and I'm truly happy that she looks after me.
And more then anything, she keeps me sane. I need people to keep me sane, I'm very dependant when it comes to my stability. She's been my stability for a long time now, without ever really knowing or realizing what she's doing. Yes, she's just under three thousand miles away. But even through the worst of it, I can close myself off and bury myself in the bits of her she's left in my mind and even without being there, she's protecting me.
Everyone has bad days. Everyone has something equivilant to my pit, which I fall into when I'm not paying attention. Not everyone has someone to pull them back out again, someone to grip on to desperately to keep from falling. I'm glad that I do.
I've met her, finally. Twice now even --once in my world, once in hers.
Oh lordy. Combined, maybe fifteen days or so. Money can't buy happiness, but it sure as hell can buy plane tickets, and that's happy enough.
We've rasseled. We've hugged. I've forced her into cuddling, and half the time she forces me into tickle-wars. We've spent nights close to each other, just revelling in one anothers existance. We've taught each other games and watched movies and gone for walks and wanders, sometimes with other people, sometimes without.
It's all glorious. She drives me mad sometimes, and by this point knows dozens of little ways to drive me mad (Ex: What do you know that I don't? :P) I've no doubt that if forced into close quarters for a long time, we'd be sick of each other.
But fifteen days in more then three years is not a lot of time to get annoyed. Time is precious, moreso with her.
With her, time is gold. And never enough.
Never, ever enough time. And usually my fault, which tends to kill me. She's on the good end of the time difference, when I'm falling over asleep, her clocks are just swtiching to midnight. I've got curfews and classes in the morning, and can't spend the night chatting without hating myself in the morning.
I wish more then almost anything that I could. I wish we could slow down the rest of the world, and spend long enough together to get sick of each other. It'd be lovely.
Never enough time to do it though.
"I saved Roosevelt"
As things to shout go, this one is uncommonly good. It's obscure, and strange, yet still accessible enough to be read as surreal rather then nonsense.
She shouts things at strangers. She dresses up as Italian assassins and eighteenth century chemists. She acts strangely, and it's not an act, it's just doing all the things everyone else wishes they could do on a regular basis. She has no shyness towards asking strangers if they've seen any spaceships (green ones!) lately.
More then anything else, this is where I wish I could be more like her. I wish I wasn't as scared as being thought a fool in public. I wish I didn't have such a fear of acting out and being wonderful. I wish I had her strength, and even moreso, her creativity. Not everyone knows how to truly stop conforming. She does.
She is genuinely weird, in ways that I can only dream about. I am a strange childe, but she manages to find ways and quirks that make her even stranger.
So yeah. This doesn't even begin to cover everything I want to say. Like I said, this is at least the third time I've written this.
I can never remember everything I want to say.
So I leave with this. OtherKat, I love you. I wish you all the best in the world, I wish you happiness, I wish you safety, I wish you ice cream and hugs.
I wish a life free from pain, and I hate that I can't deliver it to you. Hate.
I wish you here or me there. I wish us together. I wish you good luck and hope. I wish you the ability to always cause chaos.
I wish you the sun and the moon (But I have to confess, I wish Henry Jekyll in hell.)
I wish you the perfect pie shop and all the assassins to do with as you choose. I wish you HJ7 and PGGB's. I wish you a towel and a thumb and as many adventures as you want your life to have.
I wish you happiness eternal. I will do everything I can to ensure you have it.
-Unworthy of your love-
Sorcyress