They raised me to be traditional. Learned the arts, music, rituals, prayers and promised to keep to myself. For years that is what I did. It was persona I adopted and accepted as my own personality. To them it was always about being prim and proper. I was treated like a delicate flower. One that was fragile and beautiful but cherished for fear of wilting.
At first I made a living off writing delicate and sensible poetry. It was a humble and earnest means but as the market died on that I had to move on. I still lived with my parents and so I tried to put my writing out there in new ways. I transitioned to working for a magazine company writing articles but from a cubicle.
In my co-workers eyes I was just the silent blue-eyed-doe. I was quiet, watchful and to some beautiful for the sheer fact I hardly wore any makeup. I learned from them that I wasn't myself. I was more than just another shy girl. See it is different writing in the privacy of your parent's home, to writing in an office building. I had a chance at social interactions, which meant I had to try and create some friendships. However, in order to do that, I really had to first spend time getting to know myself. Thankfully once I got the job at the magazine I was able to afford something of my own.
When you're at home and it your home it is totally different. You know no one is watching or will disturb you. You don't stress or get afraid someone will bust in which in my case meant I could finally let loose. Having my own place lead to personal freedom. I got to stray from traditional without having glares and "ahems." Finally being able to listen to whatever I wanted. Who knew that "rock" actually has some merit behind its lyrics? It is like a new musical poetry I have yet to master for myself. Also those short shorts that make your legs look long. The ones that make it look as though you stand on stilts are actually quite comfortable?
To even remind myself of the fact that I had a personality, "a flame of my own" so to speak, I got a tattoo. I am sure my parents wouldn't be pleased but it is nothing too grand and is still plenty hidden. It is the kanji for fire on my left hip. It wasn't for rebellion but for of myself and to only myself since it remains hidden pretty much everywhere outside the home.
While I take pride in the little victories I have over learning out about myself I still have a long way to go. It all still remains very hidden but who knows? Maybe, after I am comfortable with the true me, I could make a friend and share that secret. Or I could just write it all away in my pieces to the magazine until someone figures it out.
Story by Permanent
KasaiNeko has a minion!
KasaiHebi the Fire-Oubi
KasaiHebi the Fire-Oubi
The Reborn Keeto
Age: 11 years, 5 months, 6 days
Born: September 13th, 2006
Adopted: 11 years, 5 months, 6 days ago (Legacy)
Adopted: September 13th, 2006 (Legacy)
- Level: 5
- Strength: 21
- Defense: 25
- Speed: 21
- Health: 19
- HP: 19/19
- Intelligence: 297
- Books Read: 296
- Food Eaten: 0
Knotty Bamboo Slips
Traditional Bamboo Sheeta Hair Brush
Traditional Bamboo Kumos Hair Brush
Traditional Bamboo Detail Brush
Mystical Foxhair Paintbrush
Traditional Ink Stick
Rouge Traditional Ink Stick
Indigo Traditional Ink Stick
Umber Traditional Ink Stick
Blue Traditional Ink Stick
White Traditional Ink Stick
Vermilion Traditional Ink Stick
Gamboge Traditional Ink Stick
Mineral Blue Traditional Ink Stick
Mineral Green Traditional Ink Stick
Burnt Umber Traditional Watercolor Chips
Crimson Traditional Watercolor Chips
Indigo Traditional Watercolor Chips
Mineral Blue Traditional Watercolor Chips
Mineral Green Traditional Watercolor Chips
Vermilion Traditional Watercolor Chips
Burnt Sienna Traditional Watercolor Chips
Indigo Paint Pot
Ocher Paint Pot
Crimson Paint Pot
Chrome Paint Pot
Carbon Paint Pot
Azure Paint Pot
Rainyday Solar Flare Kimono
Fuchsia Koi Brocade Dress
A Collection of Verses
Book of Poetry
Vanilla Chai Tea