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We weren't born with a name, we were given a name. A hedgehog doesn't have a name. It's just a nameless thing with a handful of flesh and skin and a beating heart. A hedgehog doesn't even know it doesn't have a name.
 
 
   
 
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
 
Daphne is not one to self-destruct. It's just not in her nature. She may spiral downwards for a period of time in self-loathing and guilt. And possibly hoping something would come along and unmake her. But she's a tough bird. She forges on amidst the scars and wreckage. In spite of the fact that she doesn't want to. But she does it anyway. She trudges on in self-pity, wretchedness and misery, and the thought of unmaking the entire mess by some vile, underhanded means, be it by her own hand, or someone else, will permeate her thoughts endlessly, like an earworm that won't go away. But by her very nature, she will not capitulate. And lives each day as it comes, miserable, but never really showing it. Hoping for that ray of light to finally shine on her, or that crack of the lighting which will end it all.

'She's a tough one.'

 

 
   
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