December 21st,

I don’t even know how to begin this, perhaps, in a way, this is a metaphor for me no longer being able to give myself out to people.

My life is full of metaphors nowadays..

I often stay up at nights, thinking. Always thinking..

What if there’s more out there?

Isn’t that why we’re all here? Constantly wondering if there’s more out there.

Wanting more out of the safety net of our homes, of the people we’re with, of our current situations..

How selfish are we if we’re constantly craving, hungering for more?

I’m quite insatiable lately. I want the lives I read about.

The ones consumed by romance, passion, and darkness.

I want what I can’t have. What I shouldn’t have.

So I go along my day, hoping to be noticed. Hoping that my softness attracts the attention of the broken. Hoping that my sweet scent lures the wild ones to me.

After all, wolves love to hunt.

And I, stupidly, love to be hunted.

So, I move my hips gracefully everywhere I go. Making even the simplest of steps such as walking - beautiful, to look at.

Am I something beautiful to look at?

I wonder, as I stare at myself in the mirror. Masking myself in the innocence and softness of a woman.

Only that way, do I look beautiful…

I wonder though.. What if the hunter found out I’m a hunter as well?

Two wolves engaging in some sort of a dance, sizing each other up..

A dance.

Would he run away?

Run away from the wolf in sheep clothing.. One that bites and snarls and so desperately needs to be cared for..

I wonder..

In the words of c.r. Elliott:

in this world so full of dark

she didn't want to be saved she wanted to be seen

and among the chaos

she didn't want to be heard she wanted to be understood.

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