skopz
I've been called egotistical by some. though it isn't really egotistical, it's just confident in my own abilities, i like to think. every online quiz i've ever taken says i'm clinically narcissistic. thats troubling, but not too shocking. i find myself abnormally talented, and i love to look at myself in the mirror. over confident? perhaps just a touch.
the mist solidified into ice over the tired and restless adventurer who tried, in vain, to huddle over for warmth. The winter and the mountains were bitter foes, and, unfortunately, they were also the bitter victors. The mist splayed the hillside with gloom, and now, with peril, as well.
the bushes rustle as I turn my head. the trees are dark. the ground is moist. everything around me is startling or haunting in one way or another. i feel like a character in one of those cliche horror novels. however, if something were to jump out at me, or perhaps take me captive, at least i would die knowing that I- AAAaaaaa!
overhead I see a plane go by. i wonder who's inside and i wonder where it's headed and i wonder where it came from and who's in first class and who's in coach and if there's a baby that's driving everyone nuts with its screaming and if the movie is any good and if there's a stewardess that's pissy because she got lots of drinks spilled on her.
underneath the willow tree and next to the pond, I contemplate the summer's day. I contemplate the heat, and why it makes me sleepy. I contemplate the wind, and why it makes me feel dreamy. I contemplate the pond, and why its waves are like a lullaby. However, after all this contemplation, the only thing left to contemplate is the underside of my eyelids.
and there stood the statue, gazing down on the town like a guardian. it was solemn, but graceful. gentle, but not lazy. it was there to be gazed upon and enjoyed, but no one spent much time gazing at it. it was there, and it was appreciated, but it wasn't something one would spend a day admiring.