I've curled myself around things shinier than I could imagine. I have found that a certain type of birth happens when one has been so far up the metaphorical mountain. The cold air is more than refreshing; and somehow it thaws out the bones that have been frozen for so long. It's my Serephita. I belong among the cretins, I am not presumptuous enough to think I am above that (below it, actually) but I yearn for that...neutrality. I guess every human being longs for it.
I have stretched my wings and I think I can finally handle the pain of having them.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I am just another ball of thread. Sometimes I guess I think too, too much. Other than that, I'm too grey for my own liking. But if I can handle my own time, I can become the being, whether it be yami, hikari, or neither, that I want to be.