airy story

They say you can bear anything if you can tell a story about it.

Once upon a long ago,
Stories happened, I dunno …

It’s a pity so many stories start with once upon a crime, but they do and mine did, and perhaps yours did too. And for far too long, the damn and damned crime defined me. By the time it stopped – by the time I stopped it – it was too late for what feels like everything.

Checkitout, this is my life – not all of it and not always, but still …

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It isn’t like that now. I’m hell bent and determined it won’t be that way again.

Once upon a something or other …

There was a beautiful and brave dragon … weeellllll can you imagine me as a princess? I freaking hope not. The dragon was blue, hir wings shone silver by moonlight and hir talons were pretty damn nifty. Yes babies, we are making old lizardlips a hero for a change. Ze subscribed to the Joseph Campbell theory of heroism, sacrificing hir individuality for the greater good. Blah blah threat blah battle blah nemesis blah fair genderfuck etc and so forth. *fast forward tape noises* The dragon fought fights and fucked genders and fairly regularly, set fire to everything by mistake. Ze believed in hirself and dreamed dreams. And so on and on and on … on a möbius trip. Then a thatched roof went caught alight, sparks leapt until the village burned and the people fled screaming. The dragon flew as fast and far as hir wings would bear. Ze landed on a beach and licked hir wounds and then …

rewound to human.

Not important, because life ain’t storyshaped, no matter how hard you try to bend it. Happily ever after is as fraudulent as dragons. That doesn’t matter either. There are no absolutes. Crappily ever after can be achieved by accident or intent, so I’d rather set my sails for chance, rather than fate. And then shrug a zen shrug.

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