Snowflakes & Drizzle

I woke up in a daze this morning. It would appear the rain outside has numbed my senses most profoundly. It has not stopped for days and days now, and almost as if the drizzle has blurred my vision, I need glasses. Upon a trip to the opticians I was notified of such, secretly pleased that my inner librarian could at last be released by whipping out the ultimate accessory every inhibited intellect needs. I have always wanted glasses because I have always thought of them as a hidden persona that one can wear, quite literally, whenever one wants to express themselves in a different way, as though you can be two different people at once. The dream I forever chase. I am told I am short-sighted and so must wear glasses for activities such as driving and the like; the light starts to blur in my vision and my head starts to dully ache otherwise. 

I wade further and further away from the title of this post. It is rather more suited to the title "glasses" now that I seem to have given a detailed report on the ins and outs of my eyesight. I was supposed to be divulging in one of my favourite outfits for the wintry holidays where the days simply merge and melt away with the rest of the slushy snow that barely grounded. Never mind, let's hope for this drizzle to vanish and be replaced with falling snowflakes all around to match my leggings ^_^ . I have been practically living in this outfit for the past few days and believe it is to become my "go-to" outfit for the upcoming chilled months. I use that word in the true sense of the meaning as well as in the fashion of the "chilled out" demeanor that I will no doubt be accommodating in the comfort of home over the next few days.

It proves the perfect attire as it enables you to slouch around the house in comfort whilst not succumbing to the disgrace of wearing your pyjamas all day. I can leave my days of hiding away in shame when the post lady rings the doorbell behind me and instead jump in haste to answer the door with pride; what a sneaky disguise this outfit doth prove. I have my upcoming exams in just a few weeks, so you must excuse my ragged hair and weary expression, I have not been sleeping well zzz; a severe case of "the boxing day blues" has caught me unaware. 

Flower Power

I apologize profusely for the unoriginal title but I could not help myself.

I have always had an infatuation with the hippie style, oh what an era the sixties would have been. I am hardly channeling this look or doing it any justice apart from perhaps the flowery headband, but alas, any excuse to speak of being a gypsy. 

Ever since I was little, I wanted to become a gypsy; to run away to the forests and live with the wolves, the nymphs, the elves in their magical worlds. I just had an obsession with the clothes they wore; they looked like dreamers floating on air, and the copious amounts of jewellery hanging from their necks, threaded around their wrists, beaded through their hair so that whenever they would move the sound of wind chimes echoed. It was their beauty without effort that enchanted me, their hair like vines growing in rainforests, flowers sprouting from their spiritual thoughts. Perhaps my image of them is distorted a little by watching Esmerald in The Hunchback of Notre Dame, thinking she upholds the gypsy life. Yet what fascinatedme most of all was the way that they could travel anywhere, whenever they liked. The simplicity of their lives enabled them to escape, to not stay in one place for too long. For that destroys people. I was jealous of them, it's what I've always craved.

I don't remember what happened at school today, only that I had a wondrous day.

I felt confident.