Secret Society of One

I found myself writing away this evening, but the writing was so personal I felt compelled to retreat to a world from my past to share said nonsense. Some will know where to find that world, others will simply scratch their heads in puzzlement! But it's of little importance. 

I find the whimsy of life beautiful and vibrantly expressive, however, I find society a hinderance and so, I retreat. 

I listen to music and write pages and pages in a notebook of air only to crumple and tear it, time after time. And all because I write as me instead of as myself. 

It is insanity, to be certain... but just as Twain could not pen as Clemens, neither can I as Appleby! It is a hinderance of mass proportions. And for that I apologize. 

But I do not regret... Goodnight my dears! Perhaps another day will bring better fortunes for us all:) Or not. But another day will bring another day and for that~ we can be eternally grateful! 

Dream Happy!