These days I grow sick, sick of the world, sick of deer...sick of everything. I wish for a curse of loneliness. I wish for anything to get away. I have made a pact to myself. I shall only see who I wish to see, and it is but two.
So long it has been since I have recalled events. They are fuzzy, nothing more than a worthless memory. How I wish they were completely gone. Memories are nothing but ties to the past which are not needed. If I could crack my skull open to remove them I would.
A few days ago I came across a thick group of deer. I decided to say hello, which should have been my first clue as to this being an off day. I never approach groups of deer. Perhaps with my vision cleared of poppy pollen, I grew brave.
Still, I say my proper hello. Still, I think they do not understand my head tilting. I came into your space. What is it you will do next? Stand there. There was lots of confused standing. I hate it when they tilt their heads back. Do something, amuse me. I demand it.
They figured it out and so they danced. It amused me so greatly I joined in for a short time and then quickly grew bored. It is true, magpie pelted deer are dreadfully boring. Even I considered myself a snore. Perhaps that is why I rely on the foolish deer to amuse me.
I quickly shut myself off from the world, casting myself into darkness.
_
Then it came again. A want, a pull to the crying idol. Something demanded I go there. I stood, creeping forward and looking about. It was then a ghost of a figure appeared and ran to the other side. I dared not peek at this perfect replica. Something inside me told me it was best to let it be.
