ever since I was old enough to walk I used to pretend I was some sort of Fox, or wolf, or cat.
I was so lacking in stimuli at home.
living in the remote country, closest neighbors were cows, the days of only 3 channels and we had a library of disney/Don bluth vhs movies.
After years of bounding around our living room with my two younger sisters, I was so immersed in my make-believe that I started to actually believe.
I was there to guard the girls, protect them, and live in the house. I never had friends over, we never did holidays (they were pagan and wrong yknow), and I based my life on being a pet. a tool. a dog.
I ran as fast as I could, climbed as much as I could, lifted things as heavy as I could stand, because I believed wholly that I was part wild animal.
This actually kept me quite physically fit.
I did force myself out of my delusions though.
Just before my boyfriend and I were to move out from our parents' houses and in together, I sat on the floor of my bedroom.
I looked at my hands. "They are human hands, they will never have actual claws. I'm not wild. I'm not vicious. I'm not carefree. I'm a normal, regular, weak , weird human being. "
After a bit of crying I moved on, never tried running on my "fours" again, (its like doing burpees but also going forward.) and accepted that what I was doing was deluding myself out of the most boring life.
I still make sure to try making the best out of bad situations. I'm much older now.
All the magic was logic'd away. I don't even have interesting dreams anymore. The setting is always the same house I'm in, same people I see while awake.
Now a days, I'm trying to make sure we find fulfilling activities, hobbies, exercise. It's an okay life.
andulkaphoto
dailybridgerton
germansingergirl
titsay
izzy806
snowghoul
