Curled into a little cream ball of fur within my mindscape, the lilac eyes I used to have reflected in an unnatural glow they never had… against the impossible sideways glass cup of rippling water I've been staring into. Wondering idly what would actually happen if it was either poured out…
> Or poured into by any more than this, by the people that have been trying to tell me that it is alright to have a full glass. Yes, I know, I'm being dramatic. That I am not a 'teenager' anymore. <
Yet still, I am thinking of the metaphor that focuses on what something *is* at the moment of observation. Because that suggests the way we react to the world at any given moment. Whether one is an optimist or a cynic.
An optimist would look at everything that has happened to me and all that I've gained - in this world or the last - before likely declaring that every worry I still have will 'work out'. Which tells me all I need to know to qualify… that such a thing is not what I am.
