Published in Frosty summers
Published in Frosty summers
Published in Frosty summers
Image credit by Lindsay Moe
Image credit by Lindsay Moe
Image credit by Lindsay Moe
Resigner Luth
Resigner Luth
Resigner Luth
Bloody heck, Christmas is expensive! Guess who's going nowhere without an act of [enter deiety of choice here]. Resigner wishes you the best, while struggling with the rest. (P.s, the bio pic is because of a dare I made).
Bloody heck, Christmas is expensive! Guess who's going nowhere without an act of [enter deiety of choice here]. Resigner wishes you the best, while struggling with the rest. (P.s, the bio pic is because of a dare I made).
Bloody heck, Christmas is expensive! Guess who's going nowhere without an act of [enter deiety of choice here]. Resigner wishes you the best, while struggling with the rest. (P.s, the bio pic is because of a dare I made).
November 18, 2023
November 18, 2023
November 18, 2023
Stay cool
Stay cool
Stay cool
Only inside
Only inside
Only inside
Who is on the nice list?
~ is there even a list?
Yes, I did. Not my proudest moment. (Relax, I'm kidding).
I refuse outright to write a heartwarming X-mas story. I am an artist, not a leech on pagan holidays. I'm sticking to that, Google it.
Frozen in Time
Some context: On the 23rd of March this year, I was surprised as heck when I saw my own face on a stage. Just do not ask.
And now I've lost that ice in my veins, to say "I'm swimming with the fishes" is THE UNDERSTATEMENT of the year, hence the bio pic.
Only inside (my head?)
"Look Mom! I got an etcha-sketch!"
I saw her pained smile. "That's terrific, is it not?"
Me, age 4, sensing something wrong. With one sentence, I caused the first of many icy stares but at that age, I only felt the temperature drip. I did not understand the reason.
It's painful to admit that after that year, my mother would be the soul provider when it came to presents. It's not as if my father did not try, it's just that like all Dad's he adored his eldest and only son more. He got the bicycle and I got whatever his change could buy.
By the age of ten, my mother had ensured that I got everything a girl can dream of. The Barbie's, the dresses, the clip-on earrings. (I was not allowed to pierce my ears until I was 12.)
Funnily enough, as I grew older, I came to realize:
My dad was pushing me to follow his footsteps
My mother was holding on to me for dear life
Looking back, I now know that I am who I am thanks to the two most stubborn people in my little word. Something to cherish. That feeling of belonging.
Then everything changed.
One decade later. The shy girl no more, I had survived through what most people only wish they could get past. Things that I never talk about to anyone ever. This is the story behind the story, and I'll wear a smile in hell if I don't publish this through a publishing company - as a work of "fiction".
Adrift
~ Finally, story time.
Gather round friends, for this tale that I tell.
In a world not unlike our own, where shadows whispered secrets and every alley held both mystery and danger, there lived a young soul named Isabell. Born into obscurity, she possessed a spirit that sparkled with curiosity and a hunger for life's adventures.
One fateful night, a mysterious stranger appeared in Isabell's life, offering the allure of a realm beyond the mundane. This enigmatic figure, known only as "The Vanisher", beckoned her with a promise of vanishing into the tapestry of the world, escaping the shackles of a predictable existence.
Eager to taste the thrill of the unknown, Isabell embraced The Vanisher's teachings. From the art of blending into crowds to the skill of navigating the city's hidden folds, every lesson taught the art of disappearance.
In no time, she became a master of the unseen, slipping through the bustling streets like a wisp of smoke.
However, as the shadows welcomed Isabell into their embrace, a realization dawned.
The art of disappearance was a double-edged sword. In fading into the background, she risked losing not just visibility but also connection. The warmth of friendships and the joy of shared moments began to slip away like grains of sand through fingertips.
Realizing the delicate balance between vanishing and thriving, Isabelle now known as Elizia, sought wisdom from an old sage who dwelled in the heart of the city. The sage spoke of the importance of presence, of being seen and remembered. With newfound understanding, Elizia wove wit, common sense and charm into the art of survival.
Harnessing the power of invisibility when needed and emerging from the shadows when she desired, Elizia navigated life with a newfound grace. Her story echoed through the streets, resonating with every reader who had felt the yearning for both solitude and connection.
In the end, the cautionary tale of a girl once called Isabell taught that while disappearing into the background might shield one from the harsh glare of scrutiny, it's the delicate dance between invisibility and visibility that allows one to truly thrive.
So, my dear readers, like shadows in the story, we are left to ponder: the wisdom of knowing when to disappear and when to step into the spotlight and learning the art of survival through the ebb and flow of life's enigmatic dance.
⨔Fin
One day, you'll read this and relate. We all have histories, some are best left behind. Some should be bound on your shelf.
Rushing off dear readers, there is a life that needs living.
Remember to keep looking up and never stop moving forward.
Resigner 💜
#justmoveforward
🪝It's obvious that my attention is everywhere and nowhere at the moment. Bear with me, I'm waiting till high summer before Cinders' and Red sets fire to that dark forest.
Stay safe. I care ❣️
Who is on the nice list?
~ is there even a list?
Yes, I did. Not my proudest moment. (Relax, I'm kidding).
I refuse outright to write a heartwarming X-mas story. I am an artist, not a leech on pagan holidays. I'm sticking to that, Google it.
Frozen in Time
Some context: On the 23rd of March this year, I was surprised as heck when I saw my own face on a stage. Just do not ask.
And now I've lost that ice in my veins, to say "I'm swimming with the fishes" is THE UNDERSTATEMENT of the year, hence the bio pic.
Only inside (my head?)
"Look Mom! I got an etcha-sketch!"
I saw her pained smile. "That's terrific, is it not?"
Me, age 4, sensing something wrong. With one sentence, I caused the first of many icy stares but at that age, I only felt the temperature drip. I did not understand the reason.
It's painful to admit that after that year, my mother would be the soul provider when it came to presents. It's not as if my father did not try, it's just that like all Dad's he adored his eldest and only son more. He got the bicycle and I got whatever his change could buy.
By the age of ten, my mother had ensured that I got everything a girl can dream of. The Barbie's, the dresses, the clip-on earrings. (I was not allowed to pierce my ears until I was 12.)
Funnily enough, as I grew older, I came to realize:
My dad was pushing me to follow his footsteps
My mother was holding on to me for dear life
Looking back, I now know that I am who I am thanks to the two most stubborn people in my little word. Something to cherish. That feeling of belonging.
Then everything changed.
One decade later. The shy girl no more, I had survived through what most people only wish they could get past. Things that I never talk about to anyone ever. This is the story behind the story, and I'll wear a smile in hell if I don't publish this through a publishing company - as a work of "fiction".
Adrift
~ Finally, story time.
Gather round friends, for this tale that I tell.
In a world not unlike our own, where shadows whispered secrets and every alley held both mystery and danger, there lived a young soul named Isabell. Born into obscurity, she possessed a spirit that sparkled with curiosity and a hunger for life's adventures.
One fateful night, a mysterious stranger appeared in Isabell's life, offering the allure of a realm beyond the mundane. This enigmatic figure, known only as "The Vanisher", beckoned her with a promise of vanishing into the tapestry of the world, escaping the shackles of a predictable existence.
Eager to taste the thrill of the unknown, Isabell embraced The Vanisher's teachings. From the art of blending into crowds to the skill of navigating the city's hidden folds, every lesson taught the art of disappearance.
In no time, she became a master of the unseen, slipping through the bustling streets like a wisp of smoke.
However, as the shadows welcomed Isabell into their embrace, a realization dawned.
The art of disappearance was a double-edged sword. In fading into the background, she risked losing not just visibility but also connection. The warmth of friendships and the joy of shared moments began to slip away like grains of sand through fingertips.
Realizing the delicate balance between vanishing and thriving, Isabelle now known as Elizia, sought wisdom from an old sage who dwelled in the heart of the city. The sage spoke of the importance of presence, of being seen and remembered. With newfound understanding, Elizia wove wit, common sense and charm into the art of survival.
Harnessing the power of invisibility when needed and emerging from the shadows when she desired, Elizia navigated life with a newfound grace. Her story echoed through the streets, resonating with every reader who had felt the yearning for both solitude and connection.
In the end, the cautionary tale of a girl once called Isabell taught that while disappearing into the background might shield one from the harsh glare of scrutiny, it's the delicate dance between invisibility and visibility that allows one to truly thrive.
So, my dear readers, like shadows in the story, we are left to ponder: the wisdom of knowing when to disappear and when to step into the spotlight and learning the art of survival through the ebb and flow of life's enigmatic dance.
⨔Fin
One day, you'll read this and relate. We all have histories, some are best left behind. Some should be bound on your shelf.
Rushing off dear readers, there is a life that needs living.
Remember to keep looking up and never stop moving forward.
Resigner 💜
#justmoveforward
🪝It's obvious that my attention is everywhere and nowhere at the moment. Bear with me, I'm waiting till high summer before Cinders' and Red sets fire to that dark forest.
Stay safe. I care ❣️
Who is on the nice list?
~ is there even a list?
Yes, I did. Not my proudest moment. (Relax, I'm kidding).
I refuse outright to write a heartwarming X-mas story. I am an artist, not a leech on pagan holidays. I'm sticking to that, Google it.
Frozen in Time
Some context: On the 23rd of March this year, I was surprised as heck when I saw my own face on a stage. Just do not ask.
And now I've lost that ice in my veins, to say "I'm swimming with the fishes" is THE UNDERSTATEMENT of the year, hence the bio pic.
Only inside (my head?)
"Look Mom! I got an etcha-sketch!"
I saw her pained smile. "That's terrific, is it not?"
Me, age 4, sensing something wrong. With one sentence, I caused the first of many icy stares but at that age, I only felt the temperature drip. I did not understand the reason.
It's painful to admit that after that year, my mother would be the soul provider when it came to presents. It's not as if my father did not try, it's just that like all Dad's he adored his eldest and only son more. He got the bicycle and I got whatever his change could buy.
By the age of ten, my mother had ensured that I got everything a girl can dream of. The Barbie's, the dresses, the clip-on earrings. (I was not allowed to pierce my ears until I was 12.)
Funnily enough, as I grew older, I came to realize:
My dad was pushing me to follow his footsteps
My mother was holding on to me for dear life
Looking back, I now know that I am who I am thanks to the two most stubborn people in my little word. Something to cherish. That feeling of belonging.
Then everything changed.
One decade later. The shy girl no more, I had survived through what most people only wish they could get past. Things that I never talk about to anyone ever. This is the story behind the story, and I'll wear a smile in hell if I don't publish this through a publishing company - as a work of "fiction".
Adrift
~ Finally, story time.
Gather round friends, for this tale that I tell.
In a world not unlike our own, where shadows whispered secrets and every alley held both mystery and danger, there lived a young soul named Isabell. Born into obscurity, she possessed a spirit that sparkled with curiosity and a hunger for life's adventures.
One fateful night, a mysterious stranger appeared in Isabell's life, offering the allure of a realm beyond the mundane. This enigmatic figure, known only as "The Vanisher", beckoned her with a promise of vanishing into the tapestry of the world, escaping the shackles of a predictable existence.
Eager to taste the thrill of the unknown, Isabell embraced The Vanisher's teachings. From the art of blending into crowds to the skill of navigating the city's hidden folds, every lesson taught the art of disappearance.
In no time, she became a master of the unseen, slipping through the bustling streets like a wisp of smoke.
However, as the shadows welcomed Isabell into their embrace, a realization dawned.
The art of disappearance was a double-edged sword. In fading into the background, she risked losing not just visibility but also connection. The warmth of friendships and the joy of shared moments began to slip away like grains of sand through fingertips.
Realizing the delicate balance between vanishing and thriving, Isabelle now known as Elizia, sought wisdom from an old sage who dwelled in the heart of the city. The sage spoke of the importance of presence, of being seen and remembered. With newfound understanding, Elizia wove wit, common sense and charm into the art of survival.
Harnessing the power of invisibility when needed and emerging from the shadows when she desired, Elizia navigated life with a newfound grace. Her story echoed through the streets, resonating with every reader who had felt the yearning for both solitude and connection.
In the end, the cautionary tale of a girl once called Isabell taught that while disappearing into the background might shield one from the harsh glare of scrutiny, it's the delicate dance between invisibility and visibility that allows one to truly thrive.
So, my dear readers, like shadows in the story, we are left to ponder: the wisdom of knowing when to disappear and when to step into the spotlight and learning the art of survival through the ebb and flow of life's enigmatic dance.
⨔Fin
One day, you'll read this and relate. We all have histories, some are best left behind. Some should be bound on your shelf.
Rushing off dear readers, there is a life that needs living.
Remember to keep looking up and never stop moving forward.
Resigner 💜
#justmoveforward
🪝It's obvious that my attention is everywhere and nowhere at the moment. Bear with me, I'm waiting till high summer before Cinders' and Red sets fire to that dark forest.
Stay safe. I care ❣️
