toilet-paper-people

Once upon a time, __hat woman_ seemed more comfortable with herself. Once upon a time, __hat woman_ appreciated a slimmer physique and relaxed into natural poses that felt less rehearsed. Once upon a time, __hat woman_ matched the path she had laid out for herself. Her closed eyes now threatened to open at any second, her tight skin bursting with the artificial flavors and toxins she had been assured were good for her. __hat woman_ had surrendered herself to anything that would make her path clear. __hat woman_ expected everyone to buy into the lies that she did. Her self-worth depended on it. So would mine.

The Persian rug served as their country with people living injade green jungles and others living in an opal cream sky.They were so light. No one would ever be able to tell thatthey had lived there.

The Persian rug served as their country. The brawnier toilet paper people opted to live in its jade green jungles while the more sensitive and reflective toilet paper people preferred hiding in its opal cream sky. They were so light. No one would ever be able to tell that they had lived there.

Still on speaking terms with the Toilet Paper People, they consented to a box full of Legos that overnight manifested itself into a recording studio. I quickly remembered the power of my hands, my imagination, my will, and my conscience. These were tools I would never let myself get bored with. I would find myself in Blue Ocean Strategy and in other defining ways.

Too afraid to touch anything, I found sitting in the custom made indow cubby the safest place for me to be as I played games with raindrops. Rainy days made the time pass more quickly as I pretended I was the tiniest raindrop on its descent down the glass. My goal would be to not make it to the bottom. I counted on morphing with the other, bigger raindrops and kept count of the times I won and the times I lost. The heaviness of the storm would dictate my luck. The heavier the storm, the more likely gravity would ruin my chances at survival. When I started losing more than I was winning, I rested my forehead on the cold hard glass and asked them if disintegrating on impact was really all that bad. It was time for a new distraction.