I Get Called Childish Often ~by Jaye L. J. Clydesdale
It’s a defining trait. I remember once I strived to be miserable, I never let things interest me and I never longed for joy. The shining stars never reflected in my eyes and everytime a songbird sang I would cover my ears, not wanting to be infected by happiness. It was existence without purpose. I was a lifeless puppet dancing for a loveless master preforming…
