I’ve been here for a year now, happy Birthday to trueecho22.wordpress.com my personal corner of the interweb. I should probably use this time to reflect on how much I’ve grown and the people who helped shaped the new me, the me that’s type this up today. So instead of that I’ll just post this short thing and act like everyone whose been so genrous as to enhance my life with their presence knows already how much I appreciate them, saves time that way, such is blog.
A full year, that’s impressive probably, if you’ve enjoyed this time with me, have some imaginary birthday cake, or subscribe.
My mother’s birthday is this weekend, which as a few of you may know is also the birthday of the echo blog, not sure what one gets a website but there will be celebrations. Mark my words, or not, maybe you’d rather tag then or something, I know I’ve been posting less and reading other blood less, not that any of you could possibly trip but that’s because I’ve been dealing with my brain problems, adhd. An annoying little issue where my brain pretty much glitches, a lot of people joke about having add, and I get the jokes it’s funny, but sometimes my inability to, it’s difficult to explain something so fundamentally wrong, it’s like if you woke up and your bed is an inch taller, you instantly know something is off about the way your took looks today but can’t tell what, that happens in my head, and it ruins my day every time. Other than that life is swell, multiple possible employment opportunities, signed up for a certified nurses aid program, and I no longer have access to the iphone. But of a mixed bag really, but I’m hopefully, which has to count for something, right?
The night was alive, the shadows darted back and forth along the walls as he sat and wrote, trying to capture his feelings with mere words so his love would see why he sought her so. By the dim light of his candle the shapes on his walls wiggled and shivered, crafting the form of people, not just a few, but a crowd, a surprisingly large crowd. He ignored them, but they didn’t seem to ignore him, it was as if a real crowd were watching him admiring as he poured his hart onto the page. Just as he finished his labour of love he finally took notice of the shaded regions of his room, distraught by the imagery he blew out the light, and that was the last of him. His note delivered by his scarred form lead most to assume it a bizarre suicide over some girl who would pay him no mind, but the girl herself knew it wasn’t the case, mostly because she attempted to flirt earlier that day, the only others to know, were the shadows, who were full now, but still keeping an eye out, knowing they would soon need to hunt again.