I scooped a well-raked section of cinnamon-brown hair in front of my face, to create the ideal "emo-flop," and then looked at the whole of myself in the mirror, starting at my hair, edgy and rather angsty looking, yet smooth, and professional. My eyes caroused my reflection, moving down my generally untoned seventeen-year-old body, shirtless, on my collarbone a chain necklace with arranged purple paperclips and white on every other link. My lower half, a pair of Ninja Turtle pajamas with word AWESOME! in that exact manner in large white text, in between the radical reptiles themselves. I looked at myself more, slender and tall, my belly soft and untoned, I poked my soft guy-belly, and then breathed out. The slight pouch of my midsection receded with my outwards breath, and thus I would be skinny, provided I do not inhale for the rest of my life. I fit my body perfectly, a soft, sensitive stallion. I pulled a black sock with green and blue stripes across my left foot, it reached to mid-thigh. and let go abrubtly as it clicked against the skin of my leg, and a black sock with purple gray and white stripes across my right. Searching through the well-stacked, detergent-scented pile of clean shirts, I found my favorite, a heather-grey shirt with a print of the poster for "the Empire Strikes Back" , the text was written in large purple Japanese characters. I switched out the jammies for a pair of black skinny jeans, found my favorite Pikachu belt, clicked the seatbelt style buckle, and slipped my stripe-socked feet into my Converse.
After opening the door, to step outside, I felt the chill of the morning winter-borne winds. I walked abrubtly to the coat rack in the hall,inside the tame sanctity of my house: in which my coats hung neatly, obviously not my doing. A purple-striped jacket was my first option, looking in the mirror, it matched the text on my shirt well, and complimented my ebony jeans. On the other hook, weighing approx. 4.1 pounds, was a black pea-coat. I donned the peacoat, which gave me a 20% bonus in my charm and defense stats. and left my house, facing the winter winds, traversing the wildlands, of my frothy front lawn. the slow downpour of snow was pleasant, it accumulated on my shoulders, white dwarf stars gleaming in an expanse of piano black. "Why aren't I always this poetic? If I were I might just have a girlfriend" I asked myself silently in my thoughts, but never in those exact words, I do not think in words. after thinking about how my thoughts do not translate into my head as words, I repeated the words that I did not previously think as words in an English accent in my head, or was it Scottish? I don't know.
My heels hit the familiar soft grass of my front lawn, and soon of my dirt-and-gravel driveway. Whenever I left my home for a hike in the woods, I felt like a Pocket-Monster trainer, taking his first finite steps from his home in Pallet Town, on his journey into the world. His objective: to catch all 500+ Pocket-Monsters. It was never cold in poke-land. The one thing that no Pocket-Monster trainer ever caught that I may: Hypothermia. It is an invisible viral Pocket-Monster that surprise attacks you in the cold, but if one catches it, a pokecenter will not help in the real world, only a diet of hot super-potion, err soup, and antidote, err. Water.
I trekked through the white and green pine-scented woods, the temperature upgraded from frigid to pleasant, yet the wind in the woods wagged like a womping willow wallowing in the grip a wool-weighted walrus wishing for a white wallaby. Wind blew about galaxies of starlike snow among the encompassing treescape. One of the frost-galaxies plummeted towards my face, quicker than I could dodge the oncoming attack, I stuck out my tongue for defense, and caught a few snow stars on my tongue. "Lucy was wrong," I thought to myself; fresh December snowflakes were more delightful than those of January.
I enjoyed my escapades through the woods, seeing everything in realms of fantasy, an adventure, right outside my doorstep, a very youthful way for my supposedly jaded mind and lurid heart to percieve the world, yet my soul had always regressed to lands of fantasy as an escape to the deep thoughts and often stresses and more agonizingly dull thoughts of the real world surrounding my castle in the sky. I had just remembered as I was walking through the leaf-laden land of snow and sapling, that I had not even checked my facebook after I left the house, I have three different versions of me that post on my page. Me, who usually posts 'inspirational thoughts' that I actually put tons of braincraft into such as: " You only live once" (No wait, that's the ironically cliche tween living inside me) and the me that cries and whines that supposedly love will never find me.
My mind, now back in my surroundings, the frost covered thick and thimble around me. I came here, and placed my back to my favorite tree, and held both knees close to my body, where I could be alone, and as far away from reality as possible.
