TaggedTagged by :iconChaosCrossing:
Rules (Made by the original owner):
1. Write the rules. (Or copy and paste them, whichever you prefer.)
2. Write 13 things about yourself.
3. Answer 13 questions made by the person who tagged you, and make your own 13 questions.
4. Tag 13 deviants. Make sure they know that they are tagged.
5. Don't say ''You're tagged if you read this".
6. It is forbidden not to tag anyone.
7. Tag backs are allowed.
8. If you don't make this tag in a week, you need to obey a wish of the person who tags you
13 Facts about Me:
1. i'm african american
2. i have a fear of heights
3. i have a strong love for dairy foods
4. i have two dogs
5. i tend to be anxious more often than not
6. the first games that i ever recall playing were a blues clues game, jak II, and demos of crash team racing and spyro 2
7. i hope to become a prominent cartoonist/game designer
8. i have a fascination with things that a majority of people don't know about or remember
uh yeah some title or something... I have no idea what to call this (lmao). I'm basically just going to be rambling a little bit here and discussing what I've got going on. If I'm being entirely honest, it's really nice for me to just jot down what's happening here every now and then, because I tend to look back at my journals a lot. And yeah, most of the time I look back at them and just cringe (like a lot, seriously, all the cringe) because I'm constantly changing (evolving?), but it's a nice thing for me to do anyway.
So I think the thing that I had to talk about when I started that last trainwreck of a journal was college tours. My high school spring break was this week, and the college spring break was the week before. Over the last few days of my college "break", I went down to California to check out colleges. It was, uh, something. I don't even remember what I had to say about it when I was going to discuss it, probably just that I'm still not entirely sold on the idea of
I have three mothers. The first brought me into the world, yet I have never seen her face. The second spared me, and gave me a new life. And the third raised me as her own.
I asked the third, ‘Mother, why I do not have wings like you, a tail like you, or sharp teeth and claws like you.’ She told me she held me when I cried, fed me from her scaly bosom, and loved me as she would the child she lost. It was all the answer I got.
Mother says I was meant for great things, that one day I will leave her.
I think Mother is scared. She knows I will go someday and see many others that look like me. She thinks I will see the first mother, and find her more beautiful. Mother thinks I will stop loving her.
I learned m
tuesday nights are the best nights There was nothing quite like a cozy Tuesday night spent watching low-budget horror movies. Reagan was always antsy in the evenings as she waited for Nadia to return home, and this frosty January evening was no different. Well, she’d never been very good at being patient to begin with. Never had been, probably never would be. At least Nadia didn’t mind.
She was perched on the edge of the couch, swinging her feet when the front door unlocked with a quiet click. Nadia was thrown backwards by the force of Reagan’s hug – hadn’t she just been on the couch? It had only been a moment, after all – but accepted it with open arms once she’d regained her balance. “Why the sudden assault?” she asked, prying Reagan off of her after a few moments. No immediate response came, so Nadia busied herself with setting down the grocery bags she’d been holding and starting dinner.
“I missed you,”
coffee dates The coffee shop was warm and small, a personable space filled with the chatter of customers and the clink of cups, the hiss of steaming milk and the squeaking of chairs against the scuffed floor. It wasn’t even close to Reagan’s typical scene – well, yes, she worked as a barista, but she would never spend her free time here – and yet there she was. The things that Nadia could convince her to do. Though it admittedly wasn’t her usual scene, or anywhere that she wanted to be, Reagan had to admit that she was having a good time. Something about Nadia brought good times along with her.
“You know,” she said, swirling around her latte in its yellow mug, “I enjoy these little outings of ours. Coffee dates are always nice.” Nadia blinked, her dark eyes displaying some unreadable emotion.
“Dates?” the witch asked.
Her gray skin seemed even more flushed than usual in t