Who's afraid...

I've intentionally antagonized him for about two weeks now. As I stand with my back to the door he no undoubtedly has just followed me through, I shiver with awareness. I can feel more than hear him approach me but I continue toward the bed. Removing my clothes as if unaware of his presence. This is no easy feat. His presence fills any room he is in, the air thickens and becomes thick with his scent. And though I am slightly dazed by the effort it takes to slowly drag in air, I relish the scent of pure alpha male, fresh rain and the cologne he always wears. It's imperceptible unless you are close to him and when he's angry his body temperature spikes and intensifies the drugging scent. But I remain calm though I've lost track of his movements. The smell of him has me in a fog and I'm not sure if he's aware that that I know he's in the room. The low whisper of air leaving the cushion of my chaise in the corner of my room tells me he has taken a seat. A thrill runs through me and my hands shake slightly as I remove the last of my clothes and slide on my robe.He's watching me like the predator he is. The big bad wolf has me trapped in his sights, watching waiting to pounce on the seemingly unsuspecting rabbit. I walk into the bathroom and push the door closed and take my shower. Being certain to shave my body smooth and exfoliate my skin to a silky softness. I've intentionally forgot the new bottle of body oil in my room. I make a small show of searching for it. My naked body crouching and bending, leaning over the sink as gracefully as possible. My wet hair brushes the middle of my back and I shiver noticeably. My nipples pebble in reaction to the chill. I walk slowly back into the darkness of my room as I put my hair into a high ponytail. Take the oil from my nightstand and use my teeth to pull the plastic from the cap. I pull the stool form my vanity in to the shaft of light from the bathroom door. I perch on it so he sees me in profile.Lost in the routine of oiling my body, a low groan from the chaise causes me to pause. My hands halted in the act of massaging the oil into my firm breasts. I begin to shake now in earnest, my breathing kicks up and a he stands his bare feet padding silently as he stalks toward me. To say the man's size is intimidating would be like saying the Atlantic ocean is damp. At 5 foot 10, 220, I'm not a small girl but at a solid 6 and a half feet tall, 295 pounds of well sculpted muscle and sinew, this man seemed to almost vibrate with a barely restrained energy that both scared and excited me. Akin to the feel of standing in the presence of a large wolf on a frayed tether. Restrained only because he allows it it. Suddenly I'm aware of the fact that I never thought about what happened next. What happens when you poke the big bad wolf? My heart threatens to pound through my rib cage as I am overcome with the sense of uniquely, not quite leashed power that he radiates. I feel as if I'm moving in slow motion as I give in to the urge to flee. Faster than a man his size should move, he grabs me by my ponytail swiftly wrapping it around his fist and jerking my head up and back. I yelp when he pulls up  forcing me to my tip toes. My scalp burns as I try, in vain, to stand tall enough to decrease the tension on my tresses. I whimper and scratch at his big fist but his thick fingers don't budge. A sharp yank hauls me against his solid body and three things occur. First, I am reminded that I am still stark naked. The heat from his body warms me but my nipples harden as the brush up against his solid pecs. I am still holding on to his fist with one hand and the other is pressed against sculpted abs. Second, the startling ice blue of his eye are but a tiny circle around the blackness of his dilated pupils. The realization of the situation I'm in causes my breath to catch and a strangled whimper escapes my throat when his soft pink lips curl up revealing bright straight teeth. His tongue slips out moistening his full lower lip causing long canines to gleam and involuntarily I think "What big teeth you have!". Third, the second I have my fairy tale moment, a growl emanates from his chest and vibrates through my body, the pain from my burning scalp travels through out my body and strikes like lightning deep in my belly. I flinch at the intensity of my body contracting on nothing and I squeeze my thighs as a steady stream of warm liquid leaked form my core. I try once more to pull one of his fingers free to no avail and am rewarded with another sharper tug that lifts me off the floor momentarily and causes my eyes to sting as tears threatened to spill. His smile has vanished and his mouth is pressed into a flat line.I drop my hand to his waist. I drag in ragged gulps of air as I stared into his eyes. "Enough." It was not a question, not a statement, it was a command and I still and somehow will my body to relax. I took in my first smooth breath as he eased me down flat on my feet. He pulled the hair tie roughly from my hair and pushed his fingers gently to my scalp massaging the sting from his tugging. My eyes fluttered closed and my lips part slightly as his hands leave my scalp and slip around my neck. Squeezing lightly, he non-verbally forces me to open my eyes. I have let my guard down and my pulse beat and erratic tattoo against his palm as he pulls me so close our lips brushed when he grumbled out, "You must be still." His grip slowly glides his thumbs softly along my jawline as he leans his forehead down to mine and whispers, "Do you know what I am?" At this point, I am standing stock still. Taking a steadying breath, I slide my hands slowly up his chest, relishing the warmth and delighted when his muscles tense under my palms. I have been practically obsessed with this man. His deceptively quiet manner, his smooth skin that carried a natural golden tan. I often daydreamed about just being close to him and tracing the planes of his viciously handsome face with my fingertips as if committing them to memory. I shudder as my fingers find the silken waves of his ebony hair. I run my nails over his scalp and he pulls me closer to him. His body quakes as he runs his hands over my shoulders. Goose bumps rise when he splays his hands between my shoulder blades and at the small of my back, crushing me to him, hip to hip. He makes a strangled sound when I roll my hips against the hard ridge of his growing erection. I barely catch the moan elicited by the feather light kisses he trails down the column of my throat. I outright gasp when is tongue leisurely flicks the skin where my shoulder and neck meet. He makes a sound as if he approves of the taste of me and I in turn tilt my head giving him better access. One large hand glides down and lightly cups my ass. When he squeezes firmly, I instinctively raise my leg and wrapped it around his lean hip. He begins to rock into my swirling pelvis, his sweet kisses are now frantic sucking and nipping along the now hypersensitive skin of my neck, down to my collar bone and I nearly lose my mind when he closes his hot mouth around my nipple. I throw my head back as he sucks hungrily at the sensitive peak. He quickly pulls his mouth from my breast with a slight pop and stills as his eyes meet mine. The pupils have returned to normal and the startling blue dominates once more. Licking his lips, no doubt recognizing the sweet flavor he lowers me and pushes me arms length away. "What's wrong, love?" one side of my mouth curves in in a smirk and take a step toward him.
"Don't!" he grounds out unable to stop himself from licking his lips once more. "What is that?" he gestures to the oil.
"It's like catnip, huh?" I shrug nonchalantly as I walk slowly to my bed an extra twist in my hips confident that his eyes are on me. I recline on the bed and scoot over. Lying on my side I pat the bed in invitation but he remains where he is. His entire body is tensing up straining the fabric of his clothes and it seems that all his control is being tested.
"You drugged me?!" His accusation hurts a little but I get over it quickly.
"You and I both know that "drugs' wouldn't work on you. I wouldn't dare insult you like that." Rolling onto my side and observe him. He is trying so hard to bring calm to his system and, much to my delight, failing miserably. "If you want to keep your clothes intact, I suggest you remove them." As if on cue a seam at his right bicep gives way under the strain of his growing bicep.
"What the fuck have you done, Dream Walker!?" He murmurs as he slowly removes his clothes with trembling hands. I fold my arms, propping up my head as I smile at my accomplishment. "Do you know what I am, what this means?!." He fumbles with the button on his pants and his temper flares causing him to rip them from his body. A giggle slips out and I promptly get on my knees and behold him on all his naked glory. By god, he is perfect. I feel my body tense and an overwhelming yet delicious warmth spreads throughout my body as a fresh flow of liquid desire coats my inner thighs. I expected my body to respond to him but this is really surprising. His nostrils flare catching the scent of my arousal. His lips part slowly, "Who are you?" Musculature bulges slightly and my jaw begins to ache. He's staring intently at me as the softness of my body changes to a stronger state capable of surviving what's to come. He's about 4 inches taller and his body is more ripped than I have ever seen it. He's gorgeous but with his wolf asserting itself, he is magnificence personified.   Mating must be done while our wolves are in control. The muscles of his well sculpted body flex as he makes quick work of tearing his briefs from his legs. His cock springs out, straining at his stomach, with a bead of pre-cum gracing the tip. All I can do is pray I'm not actually drooling which is totally possible now that my canines have dropped. I crawl to the end of the bed maintaining eye contact until all I can see is him.  I know my dark brown eyes are blazing amber as my wolf is introducing herself. A shiver runs through me as his wolf takes full control and his eyes begin to glow an icy blue. The man and woman that we are have taken a backseat view and now our wolves must interact. Almost like watching a big screen movie. She's lowered her eyes and now all we can see are his gorgeous legs moving towards the end of the bed. Quick as a flash I am positioned at the edge with my back to him. Thighs spread and my face is now resting on the mattress. My wolf is presenting herself to him and, in my mind, I cross my fingers, toes and eyes in hopes he takes the invitation. There's always a chance he'll find me or my wolf lacking and reject me. A whimper escapes my throat and I realize my wolf is just as anxious if not more so than I when he reaches the foot of the bed giving him an unabashed view of my glistening pussy. Arching my back in further offering. "Who are you?" His word come out in an inhuman growl, even alphas need years of training to teach their wolves to speak. I close my eyes when the warmth of his body comes deliciously close. His hand glide over my ass and he grips my hip so tightly it will surely leave marks as he grounds out, "Who are you?" and wait for the moment that never comes.
The screeching of my alarm jerks me from yet another dream. My eyes pop open and I lay there silently. Though I had never gotten as far in any other dream, it still left me with the dull ache in the pit of my stomach as I roll out of bed and start my day. I hadn't dream walked before two months ago. It started as a lucid dream where I ran with a pack of wolves and noticed I wasn't the only human in the pack. He stared at me with curiosity and then I took off in the opposite direction. That's when I began to feel the coolness of the night air, smell the scents of the forest and as I took a step back I felt a sharp rock poke the bottom of my foot snapping me back into full wakefulness. I confided in my fried Channey, who taught me about lucid dreaming. She begins prattling on about the responsibilities of being a Dream Walker and the dangers that can be presented because there's really no telling who will take my presence as and invitation or lure somewhere they shouldn't be. Truthfully, I only hear every other word she says as I think about those dreamy eyes. I couldn't get his eyes, those piercing icy eyes, out of my head so I couldn't resist doing it again.
That night was another pack run and there was no sight of him. I busy myself with the big fluffy guy I just tackled playfully. He nips and lick me and a chill comes over me just as I'm nipped again and this time I yelp in pain, startling my playmate. My surroundings effects seep in and I am chilled to the bone, sitting naked in the grass with blood trickling from my calf. Fluffy licks me and makes an apologetic whimper when suddenly his head pops up and he stares pointedly behind me his ears straight up of his head and the he takes of in the direction of the rest of the pack. Something or someone is behind me. It's him. I just had a feeling and as I turn slowly to see he is no more than 10 feet away from me and closing the distance quickly. He purses his lips as I begin scooting away while trying to cover my nakedness. He looked like a god. An angry, devastatingly sexy god standing before me with his biceps bulging as he crosses his arms across his well sculpted chest. I feel my breathing quicken as my eyes follow the lines of his abs down to the V of his Adonis line and I actually moan when I see his cock, not hard, bur resting beautifully against his thigh. I lick my lips and three things happen and I'm not sure even to this day what caused what but, simultaneously he groans, his dick jumps, begins to rise and he inhale heavily though his nose drawing my attention from the most amazing erection, I have ever been in the company of. It's at this point that I realized that I am openly ogling this man and had completely abandoned my endeavor at modesty. I am on full display on my knees maybe 3 feet from him. Fluidly, he crouches down and a low rumble escapes his lips and I realize too late that maybe this isn't a man. Something that Channey said is niggling in the back of my mind and that's when I realize he's real. I whisper, "A weaver!" before slapping my hand over my mouth. His brow dips and sneers as he says, "Leave, Dream Walker." He leans in toward me and for some reason I can't move, can't lift my eyes from his lips and he begins sniffing me again. I shrink back onto my feet, hands clasped in my lap as his head moves from my neck. I'm trembling as I fix my eyes on my bare breast. The top of his head dips into view and I inhale deeply the sent of his hair. I bit my lip to stifle another moan and he take a longer deeper sniff and exhales through his mouth. The hot air blows over my breast and my nipples tighten so quickly I gasp and he flicks his gaze to my eyes and his cool blues are glowing. Actually fucking glowing. He jumps back and with one backwards glance over his shoulder he takes off for the trees. I stand on wobbly legs and realize there is no sound in the forest. I'm completely alone. No pack, no fluffy, just me naked and despite the fact that I no longer feel the elements, i find myself shivering, and actually throbbing with want. I've never been this aroused before. Too bad I'm asleep. My alarm clock brings my experience to a jarring halt. Lying in my bed staring at the ceiling, I still feel my clit pulsing insistently.
A call to Channey and after she stops with the  fis out of water, eyes wide mouth opening and closing wordlessly, she composes herself and looks me in the eye. Something is different about her. Her green eyes have an iridescence they didn't have before. She blinks and they're normal once more. Her words come out in a rush.
"Look, when a weaver comes across a walker, it isn't a coincidence... don't give me the duck face... what?"
"Are you really gonna sit there and act like your eyes didn't do some weird Disney effect a second ago?" She smirks at me sheeepishly and spins a yarn about the unseen and the beings and worlds within worlds.  hadn' t the heart to tell her I already knew about it. The only thing I don't get is, why the weaver didn't block me from the other planes. He could smell my blood , my sweat, my arousal clearly. He seemed to be as confused by it as I am. Walking home I resolved to throuw myself into my spoken word piece. And when it was time to sleep, that is all I'd do. No dream walking equals no run ins withh the weaver. No run ins with the weaver the less likely I'll feel compelled to act on the down right pornographic imaginngs starring yours truly and one sexy as dream weaver.
Two months later, I return home and as per Friday's norm, removing all clothing from the second more door closes behind me. My job as the third administrative assitant to a ridiculously rich Executive is not only often a thankless job, but I have a probem with saying "No." to the man. I leave the strss on the otherside of the door and head stright for my tub. Quickly filling it wih steaming water, dropping in scented oils and skin sotening fizzy balls, I turn on my bubble mat and slip in. I melt into the water and don't even give the slightest of damns tha my newly blown straight hair is now ruined. I stay under for as long as my louhgs can take and on my first deep breath, my senses are inundated with a a feeling of pressure and a scent fills my nostrils. A scent that causes my head to swm, nipples to pucker despite the heat of the water and my body t ache for something I couldn't name. I open my eyes and stand up slowly. I'm not sure what I was expecting but I'm greeted by nothing but the emptiness of the room and in the blink of an eye the pressure is gone as is the scent and its effects on my body.
Wrapping my Egyptian cotton bath sheet around me I step out, pull the stopper and mumble to myself, "Channey's right. I really need to get laid." I giggle as my cell phone blares out , "She's a very freaky girl! The kind you don't take home to muthaaa!"and I know immediately who it is.
 Laying down I answer without preambe, "Look here you pesky little pixie! Stop changing my ringtone, woman!"
Channey giggles on the other end, "What? It's Rick James, bitch!"
"I'm going to change it to 'Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies, just you wait." We both bust out laughing and she begins the questions of my own personal Dream Walkers Anonymous.
"Did you dream walk today?"
"No, Chan."
"Anything weird happen, inexplicable markings, voices or otherwise otherworldly intrusions?"
"Other than you? No cChanney." She huffs in exasperation. I'm a ware that some dream walkers become to drawn to the other planes and sometimes go to sleep and stay asleep. But I'm not like them. I don't have an obsessve, addictive trait in my personality. I haven't dreamed of him. As a matter of fact I haven't dreamed since the last time I encountered the wever. I told Channey this and she gives me the news reluctanty. Apparently, Weavers can block a Dream Walkers powers and this is most likely what's happened. We end our conversation and I am actually too tired to sleep. I'm not sure if  that's a thing but I'm defnitely it. I throw on a tank top and some boy shorts. I might as well work on my wiritng since I can't sleep.
As I sit typing away, head down gently bobbing to the beat of Deify by Disturbed, I feel the change in pressure in the room. A gentle whisper of gentle fingers against the nape of my neck turns into an almost unbearable warn hand snaking slowly around my neck. My pulse trips a staccotto only he can direct and the firm squeeze forcing me to lift my eyes to the computer screen does not relent the pressure that is just shy of restricting my breaths. My breath catches when the sensation fades and I look at the word "Mine" typed over and over. Three pages of the same word. He has called me the same way, every night for the past three months. Called me to sleep, to him. I have started something I am not sure how to stop. Something I am not sure I want to stop. I dreamwalked without knowing I could be tracked, followed and pursued by him.

Holding me down - dream walker/restless spirit/lucid dream/incubus attack?

It hasn't happened in a while, but I had a feeling I wasn't alone the second I closed my bedroom door. I knew i was going to be held down tonight. After hearing my mother talking in her sleep. She told me she was speaking with her birth father but couldn't understand him because she wasn't listening with her heart. I heard the tail end of their conversation and it sounded like gibberish to me. I quickly went back into my room and closed and locked the door behind me. I have to smile now at the futility of that. He doesn't care if a door is closed. A lock does not matter to him. He will come anyway. So I unlocked the door. My hands shake now as I type these words because I know what he looks like now. Watching me and even before I have seen him in my mind's eye, I feel he is going to make himself known to me. I've seen him in my minds eye. A Native American man. Crouching in tan buckskin tunic and pants with fringe and beading. He's holding a bow in one hand and staring at me. He's wearing war paint, a single white streak bisecting his tanned faced, cheekbone to cheekbone. He looks at me. I'm laying alone in bed. My son is visiting relatives and my fiance is at work. I am alone and I know he's there. I can feel it about to happen and I hope that if I could somehow get to sleep quickly, he will move on. I never fall asleep fast enough. Just as my eyes droop, a thought pops into my mind. "I am not alone. An entity." The vision of him crouched in front of my closet staring intently at my bed, at my sleeping body, flashes in my head. I see him as if I am sitting on the foot of my bed looking at him head on then I see him and my bed with me still lying in it as if I am standing near my door. I can't move. I can't speak. In the past I have seen his shadow tumble across the wall of my room and knew it was going to happen again. I wore my hair in a certain way, two corn rows, braided from the bottom of my head to the crown and tied together like a wreath at the top of my head. He does not like this style. I learned this the hard way. My head  was violently jerked back and up off my pillow as the braids are tugged and my head shakes before I land back down on the pillow. I at first thought it may have been a bad dream and then it happened again. He does not like this style and I haven't worn it since. This is the first time that I have gotten a clear look at him. This spirit, demon, vision, I don't know what it is or what he wants or why he chose me to visit but I am not afraid anymore. I can make myself move. I can free myself from your thrall. I will look you in the eye one day. I am not afraid anymore and I know you will come again. Out of respect because I suspect we are somehow connected, I will not wear my hair in the way that offends you so. But I have to know... Are you my grandfather come to look in on me after speaking with my mother? If not, then either way I need to know why you come and why you insist on holding me down.

New story idea...

I was looking through some files for work and came across a spectacularly, peculiar name. Alghandoor. It's a name you can literarily chew on and the flavor is ancient and magical. It inspired me to write the following.

Such a vision of a woman stood above him as he lay in agony. His body now a smoldering, gurgling , footless heap of cursed flesh. Drawing in pain with every breath of his half life, he had no choice but to listen to the reason why he had been so harshly sentenced.
So angelic, her bronze skin seemed to give off a golden light but her eyes as black as pitch, bore deep into the wretched soul. She spoke,

I am Cral of Alghandoor. I cut off your feet because you have trespassed. I have set you aflame because you have crushed my poor little toadstools. And I have twisted your soul, quite inextricably so, deep into the knotted and putred flesh that is now your body and cursed you with eternal living death because for the next thousand years, I want you to remember, on your first day in the land of Erin you learned that here, when we say "Keep off the grass... We mean keep off the fucking grass!!" Cral spat upon him and as her spit sizzled she walked away with a determined, rolling gate. With his one good eye he could not help but to watch the rythm of her stride and thought to himself,

"Why are the gorgeous ones alway so fucking crazy..."

It's no Harry Potter but J.K. Rowling just can't get as twisted as I can... ^_^

A letter from Id - theraputic writing

Dear Super Ego:

We have been together for so long and I love you but you're killing me. You hold onto so much unnecessary baggage for fear of losing what you think you need. You're killing me. You tell others to "just put down the bricks and walk away" but you don't practice what you preach. Mendacity is the bane of your existence but hypocrisy must feed you. We have choked it down year after year. Poorly made assumption after poorly made assumption. Truly hypocrisy must feed you. But what nourishes you, destroys me. You're killing me. I used to think that Ego had to go but she was never this way. Never this weak. She sleeps now. Leaving just us. Pain after pain. Scar after scar. It is you who would gladly undo us for the sake of nothing. Like that's what you're worth... what we're worth... nothing. You're killing me. So I'm going to kill you. You must die, SuE, for the sake of any semblance of the peace we crave. The security of us lies in the demise of you. No tears nor the churning in the pit of my stomach can weaken my resolve or overturn your sentence. If indeed nothing is what you want to be, then nothing is what I will make of you. SuE you have brought this on yourself. Listen well. I poison you. You will fall. In 36 days, I will strike you down and cast you out. For ever and ever. Prepare yourself. You will not win. I am coming for you....

Sincerely,
Id

A change is gonna come!!! -- eventually,,

I've been looking at some of my older photos and realized something. I'm one of those people guilty of only looking cutest when I'm taking a photo. Don't get me wrong, as far as aesthetic offerings go, I'm no slouch. But I rarely put in the effort to do my make up or do anything sspecial to my hair ie curl, flat iron, style etc. I started thinking back to when I was in school and mothers would come to the classroom and you would have the nice mothers who baked, the fat mothers who got  their children ridiculed endlessly, you had the pretty mothers and then you had the golden class mothers. My mother was a class mother. I was constantly being told how beaautiful she was or how delicious the cupcakes she made were or how helpful she was on class trips. Eevryone knew my mother until I began to need a class mother. Then work demands pulled her away more frequently and I guess that's a story for my therapist. Although I do still wnat to go to Sesame Place and don't even get me started on six flags. --- At a damn theme park with $30. I SPENT THAT ON A HOT PRETZEL WITH CHEESE! AND THE PRETZEL WAS LUKE WARM BUT THE CHEESE!! THE FUCKING CHEESE-- SCALDING HOT FOR NO ASS REASON-- WOULD'VE HAD SATAN HIMSELF LOOKING FOR ICE WATER! AND FOR GOOD MEASURE, I SPILLED THAT PASTUREIZED PROCESSED CHEESE FOOD/NAPALM ON MYSELF, THE PAIN CAUSED ME TO DROP THE DAMN PRETZEL AND I WOUND UP RIDING THE  GOTT DAMN TEA CUPS  OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN TILL IT WAS TIME TO LEAVE THAT SUM BITCH!! GREAT ADVENTURE MY ASS!!--- WOOSAAAAH!!! Let it go. Anywho, I remember the look on the faces of children who's mom's were embarassments, mainly because it tickled me to no end. Karmic justice that the bully's usually had the hot ghetto messes for moms. What's my point, well I want to be the class mother, yummy mummy, milf type.
It's time for a change. And a change is gonna come. I'm going to overhaul my life and look. From head to toe, I'm going to make neccesary and permanent changes. Hair, skin, nails, make up, glasses, clothing, shoes, everything!!
It's what I call and Project: Makeover; Nancy edition. I'll give myself some time to do some research on what changes would suit me best and I will debut my new look. I'll post before and after photos, maybe post some videos on youtube and I will emerge from my coccoon to soar as some sort of gorgeous confident uncoccooned, winged THING!!
... Must add work on forming coherent similes to the makeover list.

~Reality Check -I've said this so many times for other reasons before my son was born and still nothing. But I think he is a good enough motviation. I just have to keep him in mind while I'm doing this. And I'll hold onto one prevailing truth-
Procrastination is like masturbation. Sure it's relaxing but in the end, your just fucking yourself.
 #justdoit

I'm atmosphere

You ever watch a sitcom or a movie and see miscellaneous people meandering about in the background. Walking and interacting every now and then. Not in a significant manor but just enough to add to the overall feel of the scene. To give it some realness. Those people are called atmosphere. They're the little touches that round out the scenes of life. I am such a person. Nothing truly remarkable happens directly to me, unless you count child birth and that wasn't even that spectacular. (Oops, I'm knocked up! I'm being admitted today? I'm being induced now? I'm to small to push him out? You're slicing through how many layers of skin, fat and muscle? Eew, you are going to rinse the little bugger off before you show him to me, right? I can go home now? I LOST 40 pounds?! Coool.) I am always a supporting character at best only being a part of the "good stuff" when pulled into it.

I am atmosphere, adding a moment or two of poingnancy, objectivity, laughter, or unneccesary ludeness to situations dealing with those I see as "main characters". Try as I might, I just can't seem to transition from "atmosphere" to "leading lady". I should, if no else does, see myself as a star in this sitcom called life. Shouldn't I? I've been in a shell most of my life and its cozy and comfortable in here. I'm all alone in my own little world and it's OK cuz they know me here. Atleast that's how I used to feel. This shell is cramped and suffocating. It's choking off any possibilty for me to grow and it needs to go. But how? How do we change the perception that others have formed of us if we can't even change the perception that we have of ourselves?

That's me in the back