..I am a lover hater
I am an instigator
..She walks the night with a small smile on her lips. There's a brisk breeze, but she doesn't mind, she prefers it. Her hands find their ways into the pockets of the sweater she's wearing and she walks with a pace that's in tune to the music playing inside her head. The night is dark, no stars to be found, and the moon overpowers the sky with it's fullness and intensity. Her feet make a repeating pattern of sound as she travels down the street. Cars pass by, creating a multitude of flashing lights, and the shops beside her glow with their own. She breathes. Night air. It has a calming effect on her. The earth smells strongly from being recently gardened and the smell of dirt grounds her to nature. Her life being forgotten, she allows herself to split and to rise as it will. The writer had been missing, had been lost. The artist was full of power and she worked endlessly. But it was she who caused it to happen when she faltered and fell. She soon found herself in place of the writer, as the writer came forth and roared for being forgotten. The writer reminds the being that these two entities should not be apart. They should coexist, becoming more efficient and more passionate as they work together. With newly awakened determination, the girl walks down the street with the small smile turned into an unrestrained grin.
