Formality and I, do not go hand in hand. At heart, I think I’ll always be a child of the wild. Still, for a time, I can encase myself within the confines of tight fitting tailored clothes and leave the colours at bay. But only for a time.

The beat of the drums, the splash of coulour, the sparkle of a glittering, chaotic mess. These are things I’ll never trade for small talk with classy strangers, wine receptions or polished black shoes.

Pretty Shiny Things

Lies are pretty, dainty and fragile. The truth is ugly, harsh and indestructible. The truth is so unbearable in it’s purity that we hide it behind sugary, sweet falsities. I strive for truth, I strive for something that is ugly and I don’t know why. Surely a lie is better? Can’t I just pretend that the pretty illusion is reality. That’s what I usually do, I ignore that which exists in front of my nose in favor of the pretty colours in my head. I smile, laugh, jump and dance, because I despise the ugly truths which I see. The world can be viewed through lenses, some pretty, some ugly. It’s no shame that most of us choose pretty, shiny things.